Fried Green Tomatoes

Spring always makes me think of gardening. And gardening always makes me think of my dad. And my dad always makes me think of growing up in the South. And growing up in the South always makes me think of fried green tomatoes.

My dad enjoyed cooking quite a bit more than my mom did. Not that Mom didn't cook, because she did ... I just never felt that she truly enjoyed cooking. Daddy, on the other hand, made quite a production out of things when he cooked. And when he cooked fried green tomatoes, it was like watching a gifted artist or talented musician at work.

The process began with Daddy donning an apron, which would always make me smile. My dad was a big guy, and he was a rugged guy. And yet, when he cooked, he didn't care if he had on an apron that was more manly or one of Mom's frilly pink or yellow ones. It was all about the cooking with Daddy, and never about the chuckles that his appearance might invoke.

Dad would dip the sliced tomatoes into an egg and milk mixture, and coat them in yellow corn meal ... taking great care to make sure that each tomato slice was adequately dipped and coated. He would then carefully place them in a skillet (cast iron, of course) filled with sizzling oil. He would stand watch over his creation as it cooked, knowing just when to flip the slices over to brown on the other side. Finally, at just the perfect moment, Daddy would take his "special" spatula and throw the slices into the air, catch them on a plate and proudly serve them to anyone who was there to dig in.

Looking back on those fried green tomato times with my dad, I realize now that Daddy was always teaching me something in everything he did and said. Sometimes it was a lesson on having fun, sometimes a lesson on growing compassion for others, sometimes a lesson on dealing with hurt or pain, sometimes a lesson on building a strong work ethic, sometimes a lesson on being happy and content. I've also come to realize that my heavenly Father is much like my dad in that regard ... nothing He ever does in my life is without purpose or meaning; there is always a lesson, always a reason, always a reward at the end.

Come on ... let's go to the kitchen ... I think I smell fried green tomatoes cooking.