“Hey, could you put me some -insert food here-?”
Put it where, you ask? This phrase is actually something relatively new to my twenty-odd years of life
I love food. I am rather svelte, just over 6’0” and it seems that I am shrinking, annually” By the decade? But, I love to cook. Now, that doesn’t mean that I am good at it. I surely don’t leave a scrap on my plate. I even like liver! I didn’t at first, but I got used to it. Gee, I remember one Halloween, Mom (Dad was out at sea), well, she wasn’t wild about trick-or-treating. How can you have three kids and not be wild about it all? I mean, I am sure it was in the air, the water! We would always be psyched about Holidays, everything. We would dress the dog up like a little leprechaun, on Christmas our lone reindeer, was a bit over worked. After a year or two, Dad went into Naval intel from submarines. I guess the pay was better in intel than subs. But, that didn’t really matter much to me, then. So, we (the family), were shipped off to Iran, to Tehran, Iran in about 1970. It was a strictly hush hush. I thought, or maybe I had just hoped, that we were going there for the food. There was damn good food there. The shashlik and lamb was to die for. There was this rice; it wasn’t your regular kind of rice. Even the tea! The tea was great. Maybe, here in the states, you will get some okay to good tea, but that was great tea. Gee, if I could only go back. I would have to go back in time and place since it has really changed so much, particularly for 6’1” red heads. You can probably imagine that, as a diplomat, Dad and the family, were treated, well, sometimes we got the “royal treatment.” There were also times when various governments wanted nothing to do with us. Politics, shmolitics, I just wanted some of that delicious food.