I’ve said it before — I’m no foodie.
Many of my friends bemoan the fact. Here I am, living in New York City, a bazillion wonderful restaurants literally steps from my apartment, and I go out to eat rather infrequently.
I’m an embarrassment to my ‘hood, no doubt.
But send me back to the South for no more than 24 hours, and every Facebook post I make…is about food. Not the delicacies you would find at the five-star restaurants lining the streets of Manhattan.
I wax poetic about the Southern-style veggies served for lunch at Cracker Barrel. (Sweet potato casserole — I mean, come on!)
Shed a tear at how much bacon they put on a breakfast platter at the airport diner. (Nine strips. That’s just wrong, but oh, so right.)
Smile nostalgically when asked if I’d like “sweet or un-sweet tea.” (I always choose un-sweet and add my own Sweet ‘n’ Low, but you know you’re in the South when you hear those words.)
I guess you can take the girl out of Fancy Farm, and tempt her with ‘fancy foods,’ but I’ll always have more simple tastes.
Or, as my friend Denny Keller would say…
“You’re so simple.”