Stay in your lane

Usually, I avoid discussing controversial topics in this blog. Indeed, I like to think of this as a safe place where my readers can retreat for a laugh or two. Usually at my expense.

mcdonald'sBut with a controversy of epic proportions threatening to divide the country, I can no longer remain silent. I’m speaking, obviously, of McDonald’s double drive-thru.

When the first double drive-thru came to town, I went on record proclaiming my appreciation for it. My opinion has not changed. Vociferous double drive-thru critics, however, argue that it doesn’t speed up the fast food delivery process. They may be right, but I’m not addressing that issue. I’m concentrating on the question of which lane to choose.

For those of you unfamiliar with a double drive-thru, it’s exactly as it sounds. There are two lanes, each with its own intercom. After placing their orders, customers merge from the two lanes into one that takes them to the pay-here and pick-up-your-order windows. In spite of some confusion over who merges first into the single lane and the violence that has broken out at locations throughout the country, it’s actually a simple process.

Or so I thought. But I’ve recently learned that, for some people, the problem begins at the beginning. In fact, there are those among us who believe that all customers should stay in the lane closest to the restaurant until they’ve pretty much reached the intercoms. Only then, they maintain, should a car move into the second lane.

One of my friends accuses people who bypass the first lane and zip into the second lane as lane skippers. A friend of a friend takes photos of these alleged lane skippers. Another friend flips off alleged lane skippers.

I guess there’s a chance she’s flipped me off because I always choose the shortest lane. Actually, I don’t know why anybody would waste time lingering in the longer lane when another, I repeat, shorter lane beckons them.

What’s more, there’s literally a sign at the drive-thru that gives us permission to do so. That’s right. I take the “any lane, any time” declaration as an invitation to choose any lane I want, any time I want. If I was supposed to wait impatiently in the long line, the sign would advise me to “remain in this long line until you either starve to death or reach the intercoms.”

But it doesn’t say that. So, as long as the “any lane, any time” sign remains, I’ll keep following directions – and risk getting flipped off.

This post originally appeared in the Appalachian News-Express.

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More or less

Last week, I ran across a story that detailed a list of 10 foods that could help raise or lower the risk of dying from heart disease, stroke and/or Type 2 diabetes.

Whilst scanning the contents of said article, my eyes settled on one word – bacon. For one brief shining moment, I considered the potential ramifications of a world where bacon ruled as a healthy food.

Then, I actually read the entire story and realized that bacon is on the stuff-you-should-eat-less-of list. According to the Journal of the American Medical Association, bacon and other processed meats were linked to eight percent of the aforementioned health conditions.

So, I guess it good that I’ve cut back on my intake of bacon. Of course, in the past few years, I wasn’t eating that much bacon. That was not always the case. In fact, there was a time when I feasted on a pack of bacon every week. For reals. I’d fry half the pack one evening for dinner and the other half the next evening. My taste for bacon was so well known that when I recently ran into a work-related acquaintance I made during that period of my life, he pointed at me and said one word – bacon.

I can’t remember what prompted me to drastically reduce my bacon intake, but I cut back to perhaps one or two packs a year. Oh, I enjoyed the occasional plate of bacon at my mom’s or in the cafeteria, and every now and then I treated myself to a bacon and egg biscuit. But that was nothing compared to what I had been eating.

Still, there’s always room for improvement. As the end of 2016 approached, I informed my sister that I was giving up bacon and red meat. (You might ask yourself, “Self, isn’t bacon red meat?” I might answer by asking, “Is it?”)

Anyway, my sister, a woman not known for her silences, responded with silence.

“Do you think that’s a bad idea?” asked I.

“No, I just think that you eat so little bacon and red meat that you won’t even miss it.”

She had a point. I’ll splurge on a roast beef sandwich every few months and I have been known to dip the cafeteria’s roast beef in my mashed potatoes, but it’s not like I eat a pack of red meat (or bacon) every week.

I had been consuming nachos too frequently, though, so I made the decision to give them up. I also decided to end my long-term relationship with fries.

When I shared the latter decision with others, my audience gasped in surprise. After all, I am something of a cheese fries connoisseur. And you know what makes cheese fries better? Bacon.

Thus far, though, I’ve been true to my word. I have not had a fry in three months. During that time, I’ve had approximately six slices of bacon, two slices of ham, two slices of roast beef, two hot dogs and one pork chop. What’s more, I’ve walked past the nacho bar without giving it a third look.

Lest you think I’m a health food freak, I continue to satisfy my sweet tooth and I do not go near seafood, which is included on the stuff-you-should-eat-more-of list.

In case you’re interested, the other good foods are nuts, vegetables, fruits, whole grains and polyunsaturated fats. In addition to red meat and processed meat, sugary drinks and salt comprise the bad food list.

Until perusing the list, I had no idea salt was a food. But the list supports my position that bacon is not red meat, so I guess I’ll support their position that salt is food.

This post originally appeared in the Appalachian News-Express.

My salad days

I’ve come to the realization that I’ve wasted my life.

This epiphany occurred, appropriately enough, as I enjoyed a chicken Caesar salad. You see, recently I’ve developed something of an obsession with the tasty salad. This newfound fascination is all the more compelling when you consider that, for years, I wrinkled my nose in disgust when anyone so much as offered me a bite of chicken Caesar salad.

There’s no good reason for such behavior. As I relished each delicious morsel over lunch last week, I tried to remember what had kept me and the salad apart for what I’ve taken to calling the lost years. The only explanation I have is that I mistakenly believed that chicken Caesar salad was served with ranch dressing. Of course, I can take ranch dressing in small doses, so I’m not even sure that’s an acceptable rationalization.

Regardless, a couple months ago I had occasion to feast on what I later referred to as the best salad I had ever eaten. A week later at a Christmas luncheon, I ordered a house salad at a local restaurant that rivaled the best salad ever.

I did not connect the dots at that point. It wasn’t until a month later, after I actively ordered a chicken Caesar salad, with dressing on the side, that I made the connection. Even then, it didn’t immediately click. As I put only a minimal amount of dressing on the salad, I said to myself, “Self, this dressing doesn’t look or taste like ranch. Actually, this salad reminds me a little of the best salads ever, versions one and two.”

Since then, I have gone out of my way to get my hands on chicken Caesar salad. I waited in line for several minutes to obtain one specifically made for me. I’ve added chicken, romaine lettuce, Caesar dressing, and sprinkly Parmesan cheese to my shopping list. No croutons for me, though.

Whilst compiling my list, I searched for chicken Caesar salad recipes. Yeah, I know. It contains something like five ingredients. But I wanted to make sure I had included all the essential ingredients on my list. According to my research, common ingredients include anchovies, Worcestershire sauce and crushed garlic.

This distressed me. I thought making a chicken Caesar salad would involve tossing some sprinkly cheese on lettuce and chicken and then lightly seasoning the creation with dressing. I was not prepared to crush garlic.

Luckily, further research indicated that the so-called common ingredients comprise the dressing. Apparently, some over-achievers make their own dressing.

Not me. The less time I spend on making the salads, the more time I’ll have to enjoy them.

This post originally appeared in the Appalachian News-Express.

Of red-eyed sots and fat backs

In the third chapter of my cozy mystery, “Murder on Sugar Creek,” amateur sleuth Maggie Morgan joins her parents for a breakfast of biscuits, gravy, raspberry jam, country ham, and red-eye gravy.

Two gravies, you ask?red eye

Well, that depends.

When prepared traditionally, red-eye contains two ingredients – the grease from country ham and black coffee. Some cooks refer to it as gravy while others call it a sauce.

Although it’s written as red-eye gravy in the book and above, I’m stingy with gravy and sauce accolades in my personal life. So, for me, it’s simply red-eye. For years, I called the scrumptious sustenance red-eye sot. I did so until I realized the rest of my family was saying sop instead of sot. Sop, obviously, comes from the ability to sop up red-eye with one’s biscuits.

Some people prefer to slather a piece of ham with red-eye, but not me. I don’t want my ham and red-eye to mix, so I soak the ham in paper towels to remove as much red-eye as possible. Yes, I realize the absurdity of performing this activity prior to or directly after I ingest scraps of biscuits doused in red-eye, but I’ve got to be me.

You should not confuse this fried country ham with the cured ham that produces deli meat and Christmas dinner. You also can make red-eye on pork chops, but I consider ham more tender and easier to pull apart. It must have something to do with all that time hogs lie around on their huge backsides.

Speaking of pork, when I’m feeling really crazy, I’ll try a couple pieces of sausage, but only of the canned variety. Canning sausage involves spooning balls of seasoned, cooked pork into Mason jars. The clear jars make the meat more appealing because you can see the grease coagulate in the jar before it coagulates in your arteries.

My friends, even those from eastern Kentucky, seem disgusted by the idea of eating canned meat. The way I look at it, if canned meat didn’t sell, they would have pulled Spam and Treat off the shelves years ago.

As much as I love homegrown pork, I will not eat what my sister and I refer to as “hog bacon.” Yes, we know all real bacon comes from hogs, but we like to differentiate between brought-on bacon, which we devour, and homegrown bacon. We find hog bacon too coarse, salty, and fatty. It’s almost like fat back, which as its name suggests, comes from the back fat of hogs. I struggle to understand why anyone would eat something called fat back, but Mother insists it’s good and explains it’s like bacon without the meat.

I eat bacon only for the meat, so I think I’ll pass on fat back, but I will take some more red-eye sop, please.