My favorite food.

I don’t know if I can remember the first pizza I ever had. I can tell you without a doubt it was a Chef BoyArDee. McMinnville didn’t offer a pizzaria. I did love the pizza.

Then, some years later, Roma Pizza Parlor opened. In Roma, they tossed the crust. Sure, it was middle Tennessee farm boys tossing it into the air. But it seemed so international. I’ve never thought of it until this moment, but it was probably my first “international experience.” I had no idea that pizza was really made this way. Tomato sauce, mozzarella cheese, pepperoni, italian sausage – things I didn’t even know existed. Roma pizza was incredible.

It started a 30+ year love affair between me and pizza. It has always been my favorite food. I can eat it any time. We don’t eat as much pizza as we once did, but it doesn’t matter. I could eat it today, tomorrow and the next day. For me, it’s one of those foods that, if you smell it just after eating a huge meal, the aroma of oregano and sauce still makes you a little hungry.

It’s been my favorite food for years. But I have a new favorite.

A few weeks ago, I described a ragout that Aprill made. It has kale, white beans, diced tomatoes, zucchinis, sausage, onion, garlic, and some various spices. It is just awesome.

She made it again this week. We had it twice. I love it. I cannot think of a more perfect food.

I’m not ready to throw pizza under the bus just yet. Equity means a lot to me, and pizza has built up a lot of equity with me through the years. But ragout…ragout…it’s on the charts…with a bullet.

Lima Beans

Speaking of Chip, he wrote this piece for his enewsletter – and I thought it was great. So I’m reproducing it here – without his permission, but giving him 100% credit.

(For the record, I love lima beans.)

From Chip Cash…

I don’t like lima beans. Some people call them butter beans. Doesn’t really matter to me what you call them. Either way they have neither a butter taste nor a lima taste–whatever that is.

My grandmother loved lima beans. My mom loves lima beans. My mother-in-law loves lima beans. My wife loves lima beans. Since I don’t, I have taken it upon myself to stop the lima bean chain with my children’s generation.

My son liked lima beans for a while, but God is faithful to those who continue to pray. I don’t want generations of my descendants enduring what I consider to be the worst vegetable on the planet.

But you know, there is one time I’m going to ask for lima beans. If I get the option, I’ll ask for them for my last meal on earth. A lot of people talk about what they’d eat for their last meal if they knew it would be their last. They talk of filet mignons and hot fudge sundaes. Not me. I want lima beans.

I want lima beans because it will be the last less-than-perfect thing I have to endure before I see Jesus. See, a filet and hot fudge sundae are a deceitful last meal, because they make you think that you’re going to miss them when you’re gone.

Let’s put this in spiritual language: we ain’t going to miss jackdiddlysquat about earth when we get to heaven. Heaven is the full and final redemption of our souls. Heaven is a promise fulfilled. Heaven is the garden restored. And anyone with any sense who has ever eaten lima beans knows they came after the fall in Eden.

So give me lima beans. I want them to remind me that this world is not my home. I am a stranger here–only passing through as an ambassador for my King. While I am here, I will watch others–even those in my own family–eat lima beans. And I will be reminded that one day I will sit at the foot of the throne of the One who made me. He’ll pull out a loaf of homemade bread, and I will be served communion by the One who originally came up with the idea–with nary a lima bean in sight.

Charleston

OK, Charleston is really good.I have to explain this statement a little to all of you Charlestonophiles out there who have always extolled to us the virtues of Charleston (and whom we’ve largely ignored).Aprill and I have spent the last couple of days in Mt. Pleasant, SC, just across the Cooper River bridge (officially named the Ravenel Bridge – one of the prettiest bridges I’ve ever seen. Google it!) We’ve been with our good friends Joe and Stephanie Shuster who have been house-swapping here for about 3 months. Mt. Pleasant is one of the coolest waterfront communities in the Carolinas. Mainly residential, quaint. Of course, like all Carolina coastal communities, housing here has become completely ridiculous. A shack costs $750,000. Oh well – glad I don’t really want to live here.Anyway, we had only been to Charleston once before – about 16 years ago – and we just didn’t really have that great a time. So we haven’t been back. Our loss. Just walking around Charleston is a visual feast. To me, it’s New Orleans without the trash and decadence. The homes are gorgeous. The streets are picturesque. You can look into the backyards of the homes and imagine all of the events that have happened there through the centuries.There is amazing food. We had mahi mahi both nights! Sunday night we went to a restaurant near the beach, and last night grilled at the Shusters. Yummy. Love mahi. We brought Henry, and it’s been fun hearing Joe campaign to Stephanie all three days about how nice it would be to have a dog. We thought about renting him to them for a month, but I think we’ll go ahead and take him home with us today.The Shusters used to own “Java Joe’s” in Charlotte. So they have a really nice espresso/cappuccino maker. It’s hard to beat fresh cappuccino made by a professional when you get up in the morning.As if it couldn’t get any better, we spent both days here relishing in Tennessee heading to Charlotte to play in the Sweet 16 on Thursday. Anyone hear of any available tickets? (BY THE WAY…I have no idea why when I post on Aprill’s computer it doesn’t break paragraphs. Sorry!) 

Trouble in Paradise

Ever hear a song that you haven’t heard for a long time, and it brings back a vivid memory?

The other day, I heard the song “Trouble in Paradise” by Al Jarreau. (As a side, if you’ve never listened to Al Jarreau, or the only thing you remember him singing is the theme from “Moonlighting,” you really should take a minute rediscover him. And it is getting to be the perfect time of year to listen to Al – as this story will attest.)

Anyway, for the first 3 years we were married, Aprill and I lived in Schenectady, NY. It was a great time – cold at times, and under mounds of snow and ice occasionally. But the summers were festive and jam-packed with good things. One of those things was SPAC and the Kool Jazz Festival. SPAC is the Saratoga Performing Arts Center. It’s in Saratoga Springs (25 minutes north of Schnectady). It is an outdoor amphitheatre in the vein of Tanglewood (as opposed to the Verizon Wireless Amphitheatre). Built into a natural setting, serene and a very cool, shaded lawn.

All three years we were there, we would enjoy SPAC. We saw Dan Fogelberg, Bob Dylan, Kenny Loggins, Whitney Houston (it was her first concert!), Henry Mancini (with the Philadelphia Philharmonic), the Moody Blues and I can’t remember who else. We were able to see the New York Ballet on summer hiatus. And all three years, we went to the Kool Jazz Festival.

The Kool Jazz Festival was a 2-day all-jazz weekend. It was incredible. During the three years, we saw Spyrogyra, David Sanborn, Weather Report, Chick Corea (among others)…and Al Jarreau. Jarreau is such a great performer. Here’s a youtube clip of another of my Jarreau faves – Roof Garden – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X42UySfQTx8

It’s a long set-up to saying that when I heard “Trouble in Paradise” this week, I immediately remembered hearing the initial strains of that song at the jazz festival, jumping off the blanket that we had our picnic basket on, and dancing with my beautiful wife on the lawn. It was a warm evening in July, right around sunset. I can remember the rays of the sun breaking through the pine trees, the first crispness of a summer evening that you only get in the north, and Jarreau wailing in the background.

Good memories are a blessing.

Valentine’s Day

How can you top going to Knoxville and a University of Tennessee ballgame? Well, a trip to Gatlinburg, of course. At least if you’re the Joneses.

Two nights in Gatlinburg in February. Aprill and I grew up going to Gatlinburg. For you Carolinians, think “Myrtle Beach” and you know what Gatlinburg means to Tennesseans.

As crazy as Gatlinburg can be, we love it. We love the main strip with the space needle and the t-shirt shops. We love to get a block of fudge (or Karmelkorn). And we absolutely love the Pancake Pantry. In a way, our entire trip last week was built around arriving at the Pancake Pantry for a Valentine’s day breakfast.

Gatlinburg has a fascination with pancakes. Almost every restaurant not only serves pancakes, but promotes them extensively. And no one does pancakes better than the Pantry. In the summer, the line is long, stretching down the street. They have complimentary coffee while you wait. It was really cold Thursday morning – and there was no line, even though I kinda wanted a short line to enjoy a cup of coffee while my anticipation built.

We were lucky. We were seated with no wait – and we could contemplate what kind of pancakes we wanted. Strawberry? Boysenberry? Buckwheat? Or maybe Swedish pancakes with apricots and cherries? Cinnamon and spice?  There are so many choices – and you don’t want to make a bad one because you aren’t in Gatlinburg every day.

We made two good choices. Aprill got blueberry (with a blueberry compote syrup). I went with the tried and true Pigs in a Blanket. I loved them, but Aprill definitely made the best choice. (I hate it when that happens.) The blueberry compote was the bomb.

Next time…

Honeybells

OK – I have a theory. The reason some children eat too much candy is that they never had a Honeybell orange.

Honeybells are the best oranges. They may actually be the best piece of fruit in the world. But there are some things you need to know about them.

First, they are only grown in Florida. Second, the crop is pretty limited. There aren’t many honeybells. Finally, they are only available in January. And you have to place your order in December or early January and get your “ship date” to know when they will arrive.

Have you ever seen the Seinfeld episode when the Mackinaw peaches are in season and Kramer and Newman are obsessed by them? Well, that’s kinda me when the honeybells arrive. I eat one for breakfast, another one for a mid-morning snack, and usually at least one more during the day. Three, four a day is not uncommon for me.

Honeybells are sweet and juicy. Really juicy. One of the things that the grove that sells them does is that they send you a bib to wear so that you don’t get juice everywhere. Think of a glass of orange juice with skin around it and you have a honeybell.

God must have had fun creating all of the fruits and vegetables that He created. I have no idea of knowing – but my guess is that honeybells are one of his favorites.

Again…absolutely no commission here. www.honeybell.com. Get them while they last.

My First Cup of Coffee

I love my first cup of coffee in the morning. On most mornings, I make the coffee. I enjoy the process – grinding the beans, pouring in the water, trying to get the perfect number of beans to water so that the coffee is just the way I like it. I enjoyed chemistry in high school, too.

I didn’t drink coffee until I was in my 20s. From birth to college, I never cared for the stuff. And when I started drinking it, it was because so many meetings in the workplace are done by “having a cup of coffee.” I tried tea at first – and still love to drink tea (another post for another time). But the solitary tea drinker sitting around a table full of coffee drinkers is always slightly suspect.

Over the past couple of years, I admit to becoming a bit of a coffee snob. Although I have good coffee in a lot of places, my hands-down favorite is from Old Bisbee Roasters in, of all places, Bisbee, Arizona. Aprill and I stumbled onto this place in 2005 when we spent several weeks traveling across the country. I order all of my coffee from Seth (the roaster). He roasts it, packs it and sends it 2-day priority mail. When it arrives, it is the freshest I could imagine.

And I find coffee to be a great place to make a “little splurge.” Average, run-of-the-mill coffee from the grocery store shelf costs $5 or $6 per pound. Seth sells a pound for $12 – $14. But it is good. Really good. Check him out (I get no commission on this) – www.oldbisbeeroasters.com.