Food and Family
On this particular day, lying in front of me was the Kentucky special, better known as the Kentucky Burgoo. Kentucky Burgoo, which in some way looked like a modern version of Louisiana gumbo, contained several types of meat, such as beef and poultry. Also, it had vegetables like potatoes and onions. I think what makes the meal unique is that when one eats it, the Burgoo taps every sense of taste in the mouth due to the variety of ingredients present. As I sat there admiring the tasty dish in front of me, I noticed the restaurant’s interior design that brought out some cozy home-like feeling.
As I sat there eating, I fell into an abyss of thoughts on why I love Burgoo so much. Besides tasting good and nourishing our bodies, Burgoo has a significant impact on my appetite and moods. For example, when looking forward to eating Burgoo at night, I will have a huge appetite the whole day, accompanied by a good mood. On the contrary, when I think about having food that I don’t like, ratatouille, I will have a bad day since I feel like I have nothing to look forward to.
Generally, everyone relates to food in one way or another. It is hard for me to think about celebrations, traditional routines, faith, culture, and relative human connection without thinking about Burgoo in one way or another.
Growing up, my mother rarely made Burgoo for diner, and on those days the whole day, I was in a good mood. I remember that praying and serving the food seemed to take an eternity on those particular diners. My love for Burgoo was so great that it was the first meal that I learned how to cook. Through learning to cook, I realized that I did not depend on others for food preparation.
In my family, we celebrate birthdays with the “birthday breakfast” food ritual where the family sets the breakfast table with the birthday celebrant’s favorite meal. On my birthdays, it was a no brainer to select the famous Kentucky Burgoo for breakfast.
On my eleventh birthday, in the family dining table, my mother came from the kitchen to the dining table. In her hand, everyone knew it was a burgoo, but surprisingly everyone waited for the Burgoo as we had never seen it before. It seemed that every year my momma’s skill in cooking the Burgoo was aging like fine wine. No sooner had we served the Burgoo than we all started eating. The stew was thick and chunky, each mouthful contained at least one piece of meat. As much as they were not spicy, they were tangy and flavorful.
It was hard trying to maintain the proper table manners while suppressing the urge to eat greedily. Sharing the Burgoo with my siblings and parents did not make the situation any better as I thought I had enough appetite to finish the whole dish alone. As if they heard my prayer, my parents and older siblings threw in the towel. They said they were full. By then, I was not smart enough to discern that on that day, my parents and siblings forfeited having full bellies on the pretense of being full so that I could eat to my fill and enjoy my birthday.
When I finished, I noticed that the whole family’s attention was on me. The love that I saw in their eyes was amazing. That night my love for Burgoo grew more significant to the point that now I can’t think about good food without thinking about Burgoo.
I returned to my senses when I heard a sharp melamine sound. On looking closely, it was my spoon hitting the bottom of the dish, Alas! I had finished my bowl of Burgoo, so sad.