I’m a fairly decent Country/Creole/Tex-Mex cook.  Anyone of the three, I can handle.  I can make a roux, a gravy, and an enchilada cheese sauce.  I can fry okra, roast potatoes, and make rice.  If I invite you to my house, there’s gonna be food involved.  My friends can attest that you will eat and take food home with you when you come see me.

Bubba barbeques and even has his own special house out back for it.  ‘Nuff said.

That’s why there’s things I don’t understand.  Now mind you, I do not slaughter my own meat or grow all my own vegetables.  But, I certainly do not buy ice tea.  Good Lord, it involves water and a tea bag.  If you can’t do that, get the hell outta the kitchen because you’re gonna eventually hurt yourself.

So, I read today that kids got poisoned because they ate frozen chicken quesadillas.

Chicken quesadillas are not like Julia Child has some 80 step recipe for.  You get two flour tortillas, throw some chicken – hell, you can even use canned chicken if you’re especially lazy – and some cheese and heat up that sucker.  That’s it.  Ta Da!

Next thing you know they’ll be selling frozen peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and people will buy it “for convenience.”

What is happening?  Have we moved out of the cave, marveling at fire, and into the frozen food section, gathered around the frosty glass marveling at frozen scrambled eggs?

Cook something!  It’s good for the soul.

Which reminds me, my friend Bob Dunn is my favorite gentleman farmer and has the best recipe for mango salsa I’ve ever made.  Nothing welcomes spring quite like a juicy mango.

Good eating this weekend, y’all.

By request – Bubba’s Barbeque Condo