My late grandmother, Veronica, who will have passed a year ago on October 26, had a certain culinary gift. More than her elegant food stylings and presentation, and use of the finest ingredients to feed her family, she had this gift of healing with her soothing stews, and healthy dishes. Among her super foods was Okra, a unique stalky bean known for its high nutrient content and versatility in dishes.
Though, Id be filled with joy at any one of her other hearty stews, whenever Id hear the word okra, my smile would just as quick turn to a pout. I'd make any excuse possible to avoid going to her house for dinner on those nights. You see, not only was I not a fan of okra, I despised the darn hairy vegetable, with its nasty, slimy insides! Still I would grin, and chew, and add extra helpings of rice pilaf, to help offset the other flavors and textures. There was nothing more I could do, as we were fed by one source, and that source was grandmother.
One wild year, however, the year I turned 21, I visited my brother who was then living in Atlanta, Georgia. It was there that I satisfied my culinary curiosity. Among the corn grits and mac n cheese, I discovered this surprising Southern delight, in the form of fried okra!
Besides the fry factor, these diced up hairy buggers actually tasted good, almost nutty, palatable. I came back home to tell my grandma, but she, understandably, would not budge from her traditional "bamia", okra stew. After all, stewed in tomatoes and chunks of beef filet, this was the only fast track.to health!
So, in aftermath of losing a beloved best girlfriend, I had new insights and discoveries in the garden, some metaphorical, and others, quite simply symbolic, like the okra seed! After planting the okra seed, and watching its beautiful flower give fruit, I wondered what Veronica might have done had I offered her them. To stew, to fry...
