We’ve all heard it, that scolding, scalding, “Don’t fiddle with your food!”

Well, now I’m old and retired, have some time on my hands and an encouraging wife and there’s nobody around anymore, who cares if I play with my food.  So I’m going to play to my heart’s (and stomach’s) content!

I’m not an expert at anything.  Heck, I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.  I’m most certainly not an expert at food, but I enjoy it, eat it, cook it and best of all – I play with it.  Who wants to eat the same old stuff day after day?  For that matter who wants to be confined to the same old recipies day after day.  I’ve been experimenting with life for the past 57 years and now, I’ve decided to experiment with food.

 I’ve had a modicum of success lately, at inventing my own recipies.  I’ll be sharing some with you, which you can duplicate if you wish.  But, I’ll also be sharing the adventure with you in hopes of encouraging you to do some experimentation of your own.  So, my blog is not so much to give you a window on my lab (kitchen) as it is to encourage you to fiddle with YOUR food!

Hi, my name is Myke and I’m an addict.  I’ve been hooked on food ever since Dr. Worthlin severed my umbilical chord.  And unlike my friend Darwin, I love to eat!  I have never met a food I didn’t like!  I have eaten Balut and Durian in the Philippines.  (Both are especially suited for fiddling with.)  I’ve eaten Cod Tongues in Newfoundland and Fried Green Tomatoes in Georgia.  I’ve had Century Eggsin Hong Kong and Borschtin Chicago.  I have loved them all and eagerly look forward to trying other wonderful and new tastes, textures and temptations.  Through it all I’ve only failed to acquire at taste for one thing – Buttermilk.  I love to cook with it, but drinking it straight, like my mother often did, remains a challenge for me.  I do make use of it (straight) though.  When driving, should I get sleepy, butter milk is my perfect remedy.  Instead of taking NODOZE I buy a quart of buttermilk.  I promply take a big swig straight from the carton.  Then I tell myself, “If you get sleepy, you’re going to have to take another swig.”  Works every time.

Just writing this has made me want to make up a big batch of my mother’s Spanish Rice.  I’ll spread it all out flat on my plate as I did as a child.  Then, without any fear of reprimand, I’ll cut trenches, paths and avenues through it as I merrily eat away!

 P. S.  My sweetheart is a better cook than I and every bit as adventurous.  She’s taught me most of what I know about the kitchen.  We cook separately and together and the kitchen is the favorite room in our house.  Much of my fiddling will include her and I look forward to her contributions to my plate and palate.