Putting a Foot in It

Last week, when I was swamped with work, my lovely husband Ron made me dinner. A delicious mushroom stroganoff. “That is sensational,” I said. “Yeah, I really put my foot in it,” he replied, which is apparently a common Black expression meaning he did a great job cooking something really tasty. After 31 years in a relationship with a brother, I thought I knew a thing or two about Black culture, but I had no clue what he was talking about. He could not believe that I had never heard that expression. Well, if I heard it, I forgot it, and I don’t think I ever knew what it meant. Fast forward to yesterday. We have a new tradition, begun last year, of cooking Soul Food instead of BBQ for the 4th of July. A small group of close friends shared the Soul Food meal with us last year. Too much fun. Same group got together again this year. We had cornbread, black-eyed peas, mac & cheese, green beans, coleslaw, sweet potato pie, strawberry rhubarb pie, and, the centerpiece of the meal, was fried tilapia according to Ron’s special recipe. (I hear it’s to die for, but I wouldn’t know since I don’t eat fish.) Our trusty Soul Food crew turned up. Friend Jessica’s mom Helene, who’s 83, made the black-eyed peas and Calvin (master of the perfect crust) made the strawberry rhubarb pie. After the meal, when we lay draped across the furniture moaning, Helene turned to Ron and said, “You really put your foot in it.”

He put his foot in it again in the morning when he made biscuits, grits, eggs, and turkey bacon for breakfast. You gotta love this Soul Food.

I could stop with the food, but I want to share another highlight of our 4th of July. I forced our visitors to listen as I read aloud Time magazine columnist Joel Stein’s account of his wife wanting to eat the placenta after the birth of their son. Here is where you can find the article. I read Joel Stein every week, and this has got to be the funniest column he has ever written. If you need a good laugh, check it out. It had us in stitches yesterday.