On the menu for lunch… sorry, dinner… today is catfish, or, what inland Southerners classify as... Seafood.
Our mud-sucking, bottom-dwelling fish will be breaded, fried and served with ample sides of slaw, white beans and hushpuppies, and steamed to succulent perfection in its Styrofoam container for roughly fifteen minutes: the drive time back from Harper’s legendary Catfish House, just across the State line, in Kentucky.
Aside from the sarcasm, I count a half-dozen challenges in the above paragraph alone, where I can apply what I’ve learned in the past month, and possibly overcome.
I don’t know about the Styrofoam though. It gives me the heebs... that squeaky noise. I don’t have to have compassion for Styrofoam, do I?
I hope not.
Anyway, it’s an adventure. Right?