I could eat blueberries by the handful. In fact, that is my preferred method. Sure, I could get Tracie to make a pie, or I could mix up a tasty batch of blue lemonade. But why? I enjoy them just as much by themselves, and it’s far less work for everyone involved. And less waiting for me.
Some of you are old enough to remember when a fried chicken dinner required not only a frying pan but also either kitchen shears or a big knife. That’s right, back in our day chickens were purchased in grocery stores, not drive-thru windows. And they looked pretty much like actual chickens, just without feathers, heads and feet.
When my mom served us fried chicken, she insisted on taking the back. That’s a piece of chicken the Colonel doesn’t serve, of course. But it’s there, right there with breasts, thighs and drumsticks. I always thought she was “taking one for the team,” as mothers often do — leaving the choice pieces for the rest of us. Now I’m starting to wonder if Mom was playing us.
