My Gran would always ask us this when we’d eat dinner together.
We would always nod, affirming that what was on our plates felt good inside our little bellies.
There is joy from seeing people enjoy ones food. I’d say it’s one of the main reasons people like to cook. We love the reaction. The smile. The “mm” and “MM”. It’s all too enjoyable for us.
As I begin to prep for our 4th Mardi Gras Party this Saturday, I dive deep down into the tradition that is Southern Louisiana and Mississippi cookin’. I turn on some Junior Kimbrough and Professor Longhair.
A little Dr. John as I add the okra.
A pinch of cayenne when the Treme Brass Band yells, “Do What You Wanna!”
It fills me up.
Always so excited to share this food with dear friends. It’s part of my story. I’m always talking on and on about food and story and how it’s all connected. Food gives us a sense of place. Nostalgia. Deep and rich.
Like roux. Taking time to develop flavor and depth.
I start talking about that still river inside my body that fills up. Seeing the faces of people dive into food they don’t often get to eat — expressing that this just might be the best fried chicken they’ve ever had. What better compliment to a tired, tipsy and happy cook. 🙂
It all pays off. The ache in the arch of your foot. The endless dishes and lack of space in our tiny little kitchen. Yet we do it. And I can’t say that I’d want it any other way.
So when I hear that question, “Is it good yet?”
“It’s always good…”