January 23, 2014 (Thursday)
I’m not much of a cook and I practice the art seldom, but I brought home from the grocery store some dried blackeye peas, large lima beans, pinto beans and a small slab of salt pork. I cooked one at a time, a day at a time, eating them each day but having much left over “for a rainy day.” My first effort a few weeks before included a package of cornbread mix, which made it all the better. But night before last I decided I could make my own cornbread with a simple recipe I found on the internet. I did, and was it ever delicious. I have some of that left over too. My sisters and I lived with our grandparents several years, and “Mama,” as she asked us to call her, almost always made either biscuits or corbread for each meal. Occasionally, we would have “storebought” “light” bread, which my grandfather called, “Duffy.”*
So if the weather forecast comes true, today and tomorrow will bring weather that makes hot food taste great. My cornbread will come in handy with pintos, blackeyes or large limas, and also with chili. Should take the pain out of the bad weather. I suppose that’s what this kind of yummy stuff is called, “comfort food.” I am comforted by just thinking about it.
Of course, homemade soup is great, too. And easy to make. So I may just give that a try also. A simple dictionary definition of “food:” “any substance containing nutrients, such as carbohydrates, proteins, and fats, that can be ingested by a living organism and metabolized into energy and body tissue.” What? No comfort?
The term, “comfort food,” according to Webster’s Dictionary, was first used in 1977. The term is not used to describe foods that contain compounds that can physically affect your brain chemistry; instead the term simply means food that makes you feel good (“comforted,” if you will). Whatever it is, I like it, and I’m looking forward to eating my own cooking today.
*”Duffy” may have been a reference to a Catholic Chaplain in France in the first World War. The troops were low on rations, and Father Duffy found 12 loaves of bread which were offered to the men in their tents in handfuls instead of supper. I’m just guessing–I never asked my grandfather why he called bread from the store, “Duffy.” Wish I had asked. Of course, it may have been a name he pulled out of thin air, because he was so fond of nicknames for just about anything and anyone.