Word: aunt
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...Hare Krishnas. But despite the wealth of culinary choices the area offers, I cannot get a decent plate of chitlins (the correct pronunciation of chitterlings) to save my life. Eating as ritual does not exist here as it did at home. Everyday, I used to stop of at my Aunt Bessie's house for supper. Where I live lunch does not exist as a meal. The word "lunch" itself is too short to signify a substantial meal. It's only one syllable and is often preceeded by words like "quick," "express," or "lite." Those three words, thankfully, have noplace...
...same token, supper takes us touncharted gastronomic territory. When I thinkabout the food I miss from home; I recall imagesof my daily suppers at Aunt Bessie's house. Ifonly in my mind, I can see the hot cornbread or"mixed" bread, rice and gravy, greens of all kinds(usually collard, mustard or turnip), friedchicken and, yes, chitlins...
...meal itself involves a certain amount ofprocedural behavior. For example, Aunt Bessiewould preface each dinner by saying, "I don't havethat much, but you're welcome to what's here."That meant that there was more food than I couldever hope to consume, so I might as well eat untilmy cheeks swelled and closed up my eyes. All thewhile, my Uncle John (yes, I'm named after him)would spur me on to new heights of gluttony bycheering, "Eat!" every 15 minutes or so. He had away of saying it in a high-pitched half screamtypical of Southern exclamation which...
During supper, Aunt Bessie would continuallyask me if I wanted anything. According to custom,I always had to refuse twice--politely--beforeaccepting. Since we were family, Aunt Bessieusually skipped the three offer pas-de-deux andproceeded to reload my plate upon my firstrefusal. These reinforcements often includedsurprises like potato salad, pound cake, homemadeice cream and sweet potato pie. Amazingly, I wasalways able to finish off whatever was given tome. I guess she had a way of being able to discernexactly when I was about to burst, a term I don'tuse lightly...
Although I can understand the owner's concern,I actually liked the rip that adorned the seat inmy booth. It reminded me of the worn butcomfortable kitchen seats on which I spent many anhour Aunt Bessie's table. And I became even moredistressed when I found out that all of the boothsare being replaced in a matter of weeks...