HUNGRY GERALD

When HG was five or six years old, the little fellow spent a year in Athens, Georgia, before returning to the family apartment in the East Bronx. HG accompanied his grieving mother who was in Athens to help nurse my older brother, Bernard, whose right leg was amputated below the knee following a barnstorming airplane accident over the University of Georgia campus where he was in his junior year. Mother and HG lived in a boarding house. It was at the breakfast table there that HG had his first happy encounter with that southern staple–Grits. The jolly and ample Black woman cook served HG the best breakfast ever: Big bowl of grits flavored with ham gravy; fresh from the oven homemade buttered biscuits; large cup of hot milk darkened with a bit of coffee. Nicely nourished, HG was off to play in the backyard with his companions, the cook’s two sons and a daughter. Yes, it was a sad time at the Athens hospital but all was joyous for HG at the boarding house. Years passed and HG never tasted grits again until a business lunch in New Orleans with HG’s public relations client, The Sazerac Company (national distributor of wines, vodka, brandy, bitters and N’awlins specialties like Herbsaint). HG ordered shrimp and grits. Wow! A revelation. HG became a grits addict. When motoring cross country with HG’s beloved wife, BSK, at the wheel, HG always stopped at Waffle House locations for lunches of grits, scrambled eggs and waffles. Thankfully, BSK (and daughter Lesley R.) enjoy grits and cook them to creamy perfection (A chunk of cream cheese is added to the boiling grits, a maneuver learned from Lesley). Sometimes, BSK adds finely chopped cooked baby spinach to the grits that are flavored with parmesan and butter (or virgin olive oil). Last night, BSK cooked grits (stone ground and organic) and topped the grits with shrimp sizzled briefly in oil, garlic and herbs. Yes, BSK transported happy HG to the South.