Oooo, I Love You Like a Pig Loves Corn!

Sometimes I get irritated, saddened, what-have-you, over the loss of so many of our regional differences in America. My parents refer to this phenomenon using the phrase "Every Town USA" pointing to the fact that you can drive into nearly any city or town in the US and it will have basically all of the same things. Who needs Mom and Pop when you can have Target or Chilis or ughhh... Bucees?

And then...

And then I remember that the staples in our household are salsa, tortillas, red beans, and white rice. I remember that I make a pot of homemade spicy Cajun red beans and rice about once every two weeks. I remember that my homemade enchiladas have been years in the making and that where I come from enchiladas are always served with refried beans. Not black beans. Not pinto beans. Refried beans. Period. I remember that when I serve chili I also serve white rice. I remember that breakfast tacos are a perfect start to any day. I remember that there is nothing in this world that can top a good bowl of my dad's homemade steaming hot spicy gumbo. I remember that my mother once had a cooking intervention with me that included the phrase, "not everything needs to taste like Tex-Joy" (little did she know anything that doesn't taste like Tex-Joy needs to taste like Tony Chachere's). I remember that the loneliest place in Louisiana is Bayou Self. And, as that old Cajun in My Pocket gadget so elequently put it, "you gotta suck da head on dem der crawfish."

I grew up "Texas with a Little Something Extra" and evidently it stuck with me. That's why our children will grow up with a little bit of Texas, a little bit of Norge, a dash of Cajun spice, and a mother who sometimes squeals "Ooo! I love you like a pig loves corn!"