Well, I have just finished one of my favorite meals—soup beans and cornbread! Down in Georgia soup beans are what we called Great Northern Beans. (Up here they call the same thing bean soup.) When I was growing up, we cooked them up with a ham bone or several slices of bacon or that awful-looking thing Mama bought at the grocery store called “streak of lean.” Today in these more health conscious times, I use olive oil. It took a little getting used to, but now it tastes fine.
Usually I take my cornbread and crumble it right into the bowl of beans, but tonight the cornbread tasted so good by itself (slathered in butter, of course) that I couldn’t quit eating it long enough to get it over into the beans. But as my doctor dad used to say, it all gets mixed up in your stomach anyway. (He used to mix up various food items on his plate and he'd say this when we’d complain about how gross some of his more unappetizing concoctions looked. He also had a clever retort whenever we’d complain about the weevils in the grits: It’s just a little more protein.)
Anyhow, in high school my friend Sharon and I used to talk about what food we’d like to have with us on that proverbial desert island. Hands down we agreed on soup beans, cornbread, and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. Some days we’d include corn dogs, too.
I’m afraid all this digression about food is all you’re gonna get in this blog. I was hoping if I just started writing (as I do when I compose my opening paragraph for the General Store column in Bluegrass Unlimited) something about banjos—or even fiddles---would magically emerge up, but alas! Nada! Maybe next time. I’ll at least give this a musical heading....And for all you youngsters (and those of you who don’t pay much attention to song titles or words to songs), the words in the title that follow the dots are “beans taste fine.” (Not that I’ve been eating steak lately! Mostly it’s been baked chicken, but the sentiment is the same!) Ciao.