Earlier this week I had a craving for pinto beans and cornbread. Cold weather finally hit New York, and hearty bean soup had long been one of my cures for the brrs. I waited patiently as my crockpot cooked my delectable little brown beans. Then, it was finally time. I filled my bowl with beans and prepared to take a bite. One word describes the feelings my tastebuds experienced as the beans slid over my tongue and down my throat--YUCK. I don't know what happened, but they tasted awful. They almost had a soapy taste to them, as though they had been cooked in dishwater. Sadly (and a bit angrily as I hate to waste food), I threw the beans out. Apparently the tale of the beans will be left a great mystery.
Then tonight, I wanted hamburger gravy. Someone on one of my e-mail lists had started a thread about hamburger gravy. Oh what childhood memories it evokes. Buttered bread topped with a generous ladle of creamy white hamburger gravy and a big glug of catsup. I didn't say it was healthy or particularly attractive. So, I bought a package of hamburger and a carton of milk in eager anticipation of childhood memory reborn.
Just like the beans, my hamburger gravy was not to be. After browning the hamburger, I tasted it for seasoning. Unfortunately, the hamburger didn't taste quite right, and no amount of seasoning was going to help it. Into the trash went my hamburger and my chance to recapture my childhood--well, at least a part of it. . . .