Tag Archives: delicacy

Corn

Corn: (n) a tall cereal plant having a jointed, solid stem and bearing the grain, seeds, or kernels on large ears.

I tried to get lost in America.

Many times.

Although I visited every large city, there were occasions in my touring, travels and interaction with the populace that I purposely placed myself deeper and deeper into smaller and smaller regions.

It was enlightening.

It was invigorating to drive down a country road at twilight and not see a building taller than two stories for ten miles in any direction.

What I could never escape was corn.

It’s everywhere.

I judged my tours by its growth.

I began each tour traveling when little, tiny green heads were barely popping out of the earth.  Matter of fact, someone would have to point out that the “field over there” was corn, because it looked like a promising acre of weeds.

Time passed.

I logged some more numbers on my odometer, and now the green weed was nearly knee high—often before the fourth of July.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

But it still didn’t look like much.

More travel, more little towns. More diners which surprised me with a particular delicacy that tickled my fancy.

The corn just kept growing.

Pretty soon you could make out tiny ears sprouting, getting ready to hear further instructions from Mother Nature.

And then—all at once—there were huge fields of it in all directions. Corn stalks blowing in the breeze, chock-full of magnificent cobs, ready for the munching.

It was delicious.

But it was also forewarning—the warmth in the air was soon to be replaced, and traveling gypsies like me needed to find warmer climates, and spend my time watching the oranges grow.


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Chopsticks

Chopsticks: (n) a pair of small sticks used as eating utensils, especially by the Chinese

I’ve taken the precaution of donning my suit of armor, which, by the way, already has quite a few dents. I’ve also calmed my spirit and satisfied my soul that all is well.

I must do this every time I launch into the cultural “holy of holies” and begin to make fun of sacrificial lambs.

Chopsticks are stupid. Worse than stupid, they’re pretentious.

Unless you were born in China and have never heard of a spoon or fork, using chopsticks is your way of establishing your superiority over those around you, who
insist on eating the cuisine of another country while using God-fearing American utensils.

I will be honest. I haven’t even tried chopsticks. What I have done is watch other people attempt to consume a meal while balancing the food on tiny wooden surfaces. Eventually what happens is, the bowl is picked up, brought close to the mouth, and the sticks are used as a shovel, to thrust the delicacy onto the tongue. So to use chopsticks, one has to break every other universal law of table etiquette. Once again, fine if you live in China, but not really required at the Main Street Chinese Buffet.

Pretension is bigotry done with a smile, and offered with over-explanation.

I don’t like chopsticks. Chinese people are fine. Chinese food is okay.

But chopsticks are Step Three in a process of ten in learning how to consume food more effectively. In other words, it began with fingers, went to hands, moved to chopsticks…

By the time you get to ten, there should be a damn fork.

 

 

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Chef

Chef: (n) professional cook

“Vanity, vanity, kitchen is thy name.”

You may note that I have altered the adage.

It does not matter if it’s a man or woman–if you start talking about cooking, the reaction falls into two categories:

  1. “I don’t cook, I will never cook, I will not touch a pan. Serve me.”
  2. “I’m such a good cook, people think I should start my own restaurant.”

Folks get very nasty about their ability to stir sugar in with spice to make something nice. They’re convinced they have the best recipe for any delicacy.

This is confirmed by dozens of shows on television, with chefs competing with one another for the honor of being chief cook and bottle washer.

What is it about the human race that causes us to believe that we have a passable ability to serve a meal instead of the overwrought notion that our platter of “pleasables” should be offered to wine and dine kings?

Do you really have the best barbecue sauce in the country?

Is the secret to a great turkey to deep fry it?

Are green beans better with almonds?

Does the extra thirty seconds of whipping the egg whites truly make a better meringue?

Is hot sauce the universal elixir for “delish?”

Even if we can convince all the brothers and sisters of Earth that we are alike, equal and that no one is better than anyone else, after that meeting is over, there will be someone who will insist they should cook the victory meal–because they’re a better chef.

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Caviar

Caviar: (n) the pickled roe of sturgeon or other large fish, eaten as a delicacy.

Fishy, mushy and salty. That’s how I would describe caviar.

I will now pause and consider if any one of those words is appealing.

Fish, themselves, have to be careful not to be too fishy.

We normally fry our mush so it won’t be mushy.

And salty is a lovely taste if it’s bringing out another flavor which takes predominance.

I won’t even mention the abortion of sturgeon babies that’s involved in the process of putting together this little delicacy.

But I did learn a long time ago that part of being opulent is convincing yourself that you like things that other people don’t, simply because they cost a lot of money.

It doesn’t matter if it makes you miserable or if it causes your taste buds to recoil. Learn to enjoy it so when people see you doing it they will place you in a category which is superior to the norm.

It also explains much of fashion, music and politics. If there’s money for it, then there must be a reason for it.

I am hardly a country person–but if offered caviar on a cracker, or sausage gravy on biscuits, I will pull my chair up with those south of the Mason Dixon line.

 

 

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Brought

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Brought: past participle of bring

It is brief.

A breath in time.Dictionary B

A question suspended in the air, seeking an interesting reply.

It often happens at a pot-luck dinner.

If you find yourself walking in with a covered dish, someone may ask, “What have you brought?”

At that point it is up to you, in as few words as possible, to explain your offering and make it so alluring that someone wants to dash off to grab a spoon and partake.

Much time can be spent preparing food, but it is more important to come up with a promotion for your entree which will cause the world to salivate.

I see people walking by me every day.

I sense the need inside them.

I can sometimes even feel the pulsing greed.

  • They want.
  • They yearn.
  • They expect.

But since we are not surrounded by a planet of waiters who are constantly inquiring, “What can I get for you?” we must realize that the common question from those we meet will be, “What have you brought?”

What is under your cover-up?

What have you decided to put together to enhance this party?

Often it is not the quality of our preparation but instead, the joy we bring in unveiling it.

What have you brought?

What delicacy can you present to the human tribe?

Have you decided how to feed the hunger in the hearts of human beings–or do you come weak, requiring sustenance yourself?

What have you brought?

The answer will often determine whether you’re accepted or rejected.

 

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Broth

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Broth: (n) soup consisting of meat or vegetable chunks, and often rice, cooked in stock.

Although it may seem bewildering, it is one of my fondest memories.

I was in the midst of one of my festering needs to lose weight and had fasted for about a day-and-a-half (though at the time I would have insisted it was two).Dictionary B

I was hungry.

You see, as a fat man, I never allow myself to become hungry. The presence of food is the ushering in of appetite.

I’ve never been able to consider the consumption of calories to be nutrition for survival, but rather, a pleasure I grant myself in large quantities, to confirm that I have the power to relish what is available.

Bluntly, I’m never starved. I just eat.

On this particular occasion, though, I actually gained the pangs, the passion and the purpose to receive food.

My body was growing weaker and weaker, and threatened to shut down in protest over my abstinence from meals.

Yet there was a thirty-minute passage of time when I felt more alive than I had ever felt before. I needed something–and was fully aware that I was about to receive it.

I was really famished.

I sensed a yearning rather than a burning.

And when I sat down at the end of that half-an-hour, to steaming broth with floating pieces of carrot and rice, smelling of chicken, I will tell you it was probably the most delicious delicacy I have ever devoured.

It had fragrance, taste and promise.

I’ve often wondered why I can’t return to that same fervency of appreciation.

Because on that day, a bowl of broth tasted to me like heavenly manna.

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Baloney

Baloney: (n) foolish or deceptive talk; nonsense.Dictionary B

Bologna is a luncheon meat that is derived from unknown sources. The origin of this delicacy is so frighteningly unknown that some individuals refuse to eat it.

On the other hand, most Americans consider it to be a staple of life, and in the throes hunger, one of the tastier ways to soothe the gut.

But the reason we refer to stupid conclusions and ridiculous notions as “baloney” is because our society is very good at taking crap and throwing it in the blender, and then using the “press” to produce a conclusion which has questionable origins.

Matter of fact, there are things we just accept today which twenty years ago, we would have ridiculed.

The reason we accept them is because we are afraid to deal with the issues that might come up if a real conversation was held on the subject.

It’s why the old adage, “never discuss politics and religion” has been ignored in favor of believing that further debate will somehow or another bring about revelation or harmony.

Let’s be frank. Politics and religion are useless if they don’t make our lives better. Matter of fact, almost everything is useless if it doesn’t make our lives better.

Case in point: I was sitting in a gathering of mournful souls who were lamenting the loss of a loved one. It wasn’t even ten seconds before someone intoned the platitude, “He’s in a better place.”

Obviously, that’s baloney. We don’t know where he is. We are mortals, held on this Earthly plane without any awareness of the universe.

But “better place” is an idea that can quickly be pressed together to form a product which is palatable.

It’s like in politics, when we say, “We’re looking for the best person for the job.”

Of course we’re not. The best person to be the President of the United States could never be elected President because that person’s background would be too colorful and could never survive the vetting process.

Baloney is what is served up to the public without revealing how it was actually processed and ground up to form a thought.

And like its counterpart, bologna, it is normally stuck between two pieces of white bread and adorned with something cheesy.

 

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Anytown, U. S. A.

dictionary with letter A

Anytown, U.S.A.: (n) any real or fantasy place regarded as being typical of American small-town appearance or values.

As a verified vagabond who has done my share of stopping at the local convenience store to inquire about the best diner in town, I will tell you that the similarities which exist among these little burgs are few and far between.

I know we would like, for the sake of political or spiritual agendas, to categorize certain locales as possessing the true crust of the American apple pie, but just as in the case of that delicacy, the fruits that fill them are varied.

I grow weary of listening to pundits portraying America as a conservative nestling of Puritanical, family oriented souls huddling over a common fire, exchanging “favorite scriptures.”

Likewise, America is not a bustling metropolis of cosmopolitan, creative beings on their way to the next cocktail party to discuss the brush-strokes of a new, controversial artist.

People are magnificent as long as you understand them. And here are three things I have learned which reflect the only commonality in the human family. They bring me both comfort and a bit of comic relief:

1. We are obliviously self-centered.

Even though we would be offended by the notion that we are highly focused on our own thoughts and lifestyle, it is just the way we survive. Without it, we probably would spend too much time correcting mistakes or being hit by buses.

2. Our values change as our problems mount.

It amazes me that someone who insists they are against some particular vice will suddenly become more forgiving when one of their children commits it. You can call that hypocrisy if you want to, but to a certain extent it is a necessary blending of survival, mercy and inconsistency.

3. If given the chance, we really don’t want to hurt anyone.

The trouble is, there is so much animosity in the air that we are continually tempted to be assholes. But if you can separate people from the media, politics and religious arrogance, they generally have enough heart that they want to make sure to give the other guy a chance.

If you comprehend these three things, you will find them anywhere you go, with anyone you meet, at any time.

If you have a mission to separate the “good people” from the “bad people,” to create a superior chosen race which is more “American,” then you will be a contributor to the insanity that divides us … instead of the understanding that unites us.

 

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Advantage

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Advantage: (n) a condition or circumstance that puts one in a favorable or superior position.

“Tall, dark and handsome.”

I never acquired any member of that trio. I do not possess that advantage.

IS it an advantage? I think if you’re tall, dark and handsome, you do get an immediate pass to the front of the line. Unfortunately for you, if you don’t back that up with “smart, hard-working and caring,” you probably will be booted to the curb quicker than someone who is plain-looking.

Why? Because you’re disappointing. You promised SO much with your looks and delivered SO little with your personality.

Therefore what seems to be an advantage quickly can become a disadvantage if you end up thinking you are a fleshly mannequin instead of a real human being.

Yet I will tell you that we all NEED an advantage–something that truly sets us apart instead of us merely “moving our parts” and getting “set in our ways.”

So I worked on ME. Actually, it’s a work in progress, so please do not think that I’m done. Three areas, paralleling “tall, dark and handsome:”

Since I couldn’t muster “tall,” I decided to be faithful. By faithful, I mean true to my own word while sensitive to the needs of others.

I went opposite on “dark.” I decided to be a light–to bring possibilities and hope instead of merely stating the obvious and offering gloom to the room.

“Handsome” out of the question, I chose to be attractive. Now you may think those are the same, but they aren’t. What is most attractive to other human beings is a glorious blend of humor, talent and humility. When you are able to mix those three spices together, you can put them in any dish and create a delicacy.

  • There is no advantage in being good-looking if you’re dumbfounded.
  • There is no advantage in wealth if you’re selfish.
  • And there is no advantage in being popular if you’re not prepared for the day when you will be pushed away by the latest fad.

The greatest advantage any human being can have is to tap your resources … and give a damn.

Abloom

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Abloom: adj. covered in flowers.

I like flowers.

What I don’t like is pretending that I’m uninterested in flowers because if I stated in public that I was, I might be perceived as gay.

With all the necessary and valuable discussion going on about human relationships and civil rights–including equality for the gay community–it has heightened people’s defensive nature concerning what is gay and what is not.

So if you’re a guy, you can be nervous about going to a movie with another guy, feeling the need to worry about whether the appearance of two dudes together sends the signal that you’re sharing more than a bucket of popcorn. If you happen to be the kind of person who just enjoys good movies and doesn’t believe there’s any such thing as a “chick flick” or “macho films,” you can be seen as a borderline case–ready to jump into the rainbow coalition.

If you know your way around a kitchen and like to cook, you have to make sure that you have a beard, spiked hair and talk gruffly about things like motorcycles and football–or people might wonder if your delicacy is Twinkies.

It’s horrible.

I would love to walk outside and see a field abloom and be able to discuss the colorations and sheer utter magnitude of the vision without wondering if people thought I also had a poster of Judy Garland hanging in my boudoir. Is it going to be possible to actually become more open-minded, when we attribute certain levels of appreciation to a sexual preference instead of just plain human enjoyment?

  • Do I like Broadway musicals? Some of them.
  • Do I know how to decorate a room? Yes–even though I welcome other people’s opinions.
  • Can I say that the “fields are abloom” without people thinking that I am queenly? I fear not.

I will know we have grown as human beings when we talk more about human beings than we do about men, women, gay and straight. To me the whole thing is similar to our fourth grade obsession with cooties. Guys really liked girls but weren’t sure whether we were supposed to or not–and because of the eyeballing of our friends, we pretended that touching one of these females would cause multi-legged insects to infest our bodies. Let me be the first to say it: cuties don’t give you cooties.

And reporting that a field is abloom does not make you Anderson Cooper.