I’m a mess of shit in a bowl,

spicy, smoked,

maybe left on the stove a little too long

and not stirred quite enough

so the bottom sticks to the pot

and no matter how hard you try,

you just can’t scrape it out,

and if you tried,

you’d scratch up your favorite bowl.

I’m andouille sausage and shrimp and crawfish and rice and vegetables,

a little French, and yes a little African

because my children, the people I love the most in this world

are brown-skinned and beautiful.

And it’s all mixed together

in a brown rue,

looking like a jumbled mess,

and tasting delicious, savory,

comfort with a kick.

I'm every bit the nutrient-rich, slightly fatty, humble, suet-like cake of my native American ancestors. I am not for everyone and definitely not designed for every day consumption. I'm a little too substantial for that.

While I can admittedly be somewhat dense and boring (especially to more refined palates), I can also save your life when things go wrong. I have the ability to encourage, sustain, and bridge you over to better times. I am dependable that way.

Unfortunately, I'm not something you'd probably ever look forward to having. Not when there is an entire world of fancy, laboratory-derived, “power” bar type snacks in shiny packages available. However, will you ever be glad to find simple me at the bottom of your daypack in a survival situation.

Take me along. I make a decent companion for life's journey.

I'm the finely chopped onions

Sprinkled upon a bed of noodles

that hide naked beneath the soup

I'm the finely chopped onions

Peering over the edge of the bowl

Witnessing the crispy, tender meat,

the silky, bouncy tofu,

and the soft, fluffy rice

all come and go

I'm the finely chopped onions

Carrying the burden of chili oil

While suffocating from the flavorful steam

that constantly rises into my face

and escapes the cage

that I cannot

I'm the finely chopped onions

Desperately clinging onto the warmth of the sinking noodles

While gasping for air

as I sink with them

Into the suffocating world of hidden spices

Into the embrace of savory waves

that slowly wash over me

I'm the finely chopped onions

That stick to chopsticks like a leech

That rise and fall as they command

While catching a glimpse of the sweet, sweet world

that I can never dream to join

I'm the finely chopped onions

That notice the abandoned peanuts

from the very first dish,

shivering in the cold

while longingly looking at the lively dance

of the newly arrived mango puddings

I'm the finely chopped onions

Left in the bowl at the end

Feeling soggy and wet

Alone and unwanted

But also unscathed

Crisped wings to convey that somethings wished to fly, and they still got shot down and served to someone who will always reign over them-- that my aspirations will always get shot down and serve to a higher instinct in me. What that higher instinct is, I have no clue. Some hole that can be ascribed no emotion or feeling, just indiscriminate ignorance. Pizza to represent something generic that everyone likes as a standard, not because they traditionally like it, but because everyone else does-- just a safe meal. Easy for me to be a pizza-- to fit in with the crowd and let conformity sedate my individualism. Burn my aspiration with the crisp of the wings and bury my uniqueness in the pizza's cheesy grave.

i don't love sweet things

any of my friends will tell you this

i drink my coffee without sugar

and i prefer eggs to pancakes

i'm the type to eat pasta for breakfast

and extra dinner for dessert

all the people i love best prefer sweet

they all like me more than i do

i'm a good accompaniment

but i don't see the point of me alone

i'd like to say i'm honey

and maybe someone who loved me would

but even i like honey in tea

If I were a food, I would be a gourmet three-course meal, with each course representing different facets of my personality and life experiences. I would start with a light, refreshing salad, followed by a rich and hearty main course, and end with a sweet and decadent dessert.

For my first course, I would serve a fresh and vibrant arugula salad with a homemade citrus vinaigrette. The peppery arugula represents my bold and confident personality, while the citrus dressing symbolizes the zesty and adventurous spirit that drives me forward. The salad would also be topped with crunchy walnuts, representing the strength and resilience that has helped me overcome obstacles in my life. I would serve this salad as a reminder to always stay true to myself and never be afraid to take risks.

For my main course, I would serve a slow-roasted prime rib with garlic mashed potatoes and sautéed asparagus. The tender and juicy prime rib represents my compassion and empathy for others, while the savory garlic mashed potatoes symbolize the comfort and warmth that I strive to provide for those around me. The asparagus adds a touch of sophistication and elegance, representing my love for art and culture. I would serve this main course as a reminder to always prioritize the well-being of others and to never forget the importance of self-care.

Finally, for dessert, I would serve a decadent chocolate lava cake with a side of fresh berries. The rich and indulgent chocolate cake represents my passion for life and my desire to live it to the fullest, while the berries symbolize the sweet and simple pleasures that bring joy to my everyday existence. I would serve this dessert as a reminder to always cherish the moments that make life worth living and to never forget to savor the sweetness in life.

As for why I chose this particular meal to represent myself, I believe that each course represents a different aspect of my personality and life experiences. The arugula salad represents my bold and adventurous side, the prime rib represents my compassionate and empathetic nature, and the chocolate lava cake represents my love for life and all its indulgences.

In conclusion, if I were a food, I would be a gourmet three-course meal that represents the many facets of my personality and life experiences. From the peppery arugula salad to the rich and indulgent chocolate lava cake, each course would offer a unique and delicious glimpse into who I am as a person. Whether you prefer a light and refreshing salad or a decadent chocolate dessert, I hope that my meal would leave you feeling satisfied, inspired, and eager to embrace all the delicious experiences life has to offer.

In a firehouse the most important attributes you can bring are integrity and the ability to cook. Each shift starts with a discussion and one of the topics is always about what's for dinner. One of the traditional meals that hits the station table often is chili, for many reasons. Chili is hearty and filling. It can be served many different ways to appease the liking of whoever is to consume it. It rarely is cooked the same way twice; mixed with different spices and ingredients each time. Versatile and flexible for most situations and kitchens. There are several components causing contrast and depth in their own way, but the base remains the same. Protein, beans and a sauce serve as the blueprint. It will feed a crowd and can be served over days while maintaining its taste and form. Reliable and dependable. Most find it appetizing and satisfying. A true entree to be proud of.

So in conclusion. I'm a potato.

I used to be filet, until I was put into my place. I was forced to mingle among others who saw nothing special when they saw me. My self-erected pedestal was cut down to ground level--or perhaps below that. Maybe even on its way to six feet under.

I was humble pie. I was subjugated by those who informed me--and not so gently--that I was nothing there. I had to stay. How the mighty fall as entertainment for those who have never known might. How the powerful become nothing among those who have never known power.

You are what you eat, and I was eating humble pie. Unspiced, bland, and nothing special. My pride was well done, but I forced it down anyway. With a dirt chaser.

Next course for me to eat--crow. After that, for dessert, I suspect I will eat shit and die.

I am hardly ever one's first choice of friend.

I've felt all my life as the necessary side dish at many a breakfast buffet. A staple.

But nothing that one would look upon with great excitement.

You need me.

Plain and simple me.

I'm the one to be used, to be called upon when exciting opportunities present themselves. I'm handy and important, but never the main dish. Never the cake, but a component, nonetheless.

But during some special occasions, I may be molded into something delectable in the hands of a proper chef. I may just become devilishly good, I may offer deliverance in benediction, I may become light and carefree and more full of fluff than clouds brushing the heavens.

And still, I make others violently ill.

Allergic. They wish to perish in my wake.

Even when you don't expect it, I am there.

A solid presence. A necessity. A friend that will never leave you hungry for more.

Eggs.