By Leigh Walkup

I’ve said this many times in my life, but the minute I eat something that I ate during my childhood, something happens. I swear, my heart expands a bit, and my soul brightens. Food is the only thing that brings THOSE emotions and feelings to me. I could go back to my grandparent’s big old farmhouse, stand in her kitchen right this instant, and I would not feel the same. Everything would be different; the people are gone, the house has aged even more, and the energy of love and warmth is no longer there. 

However, when we make her barley casserole every year for Christmas, I instantly feel her warmth. I can sense all the times she stood in that big ole farmhouse kitchen preparing it for the people she loved, and I smile. I will never eat that dish and not think of her. Just like every single time I have a fried bologna sandwich, I think of my Nannie. Nannie was my Mom’s mother, and I can still see her in her kitchen frying up bologna. She always scored the sides so it wouldn’t roll up. My mom prepares it the exact same way, and guess what…I make it the same, too! 

It also reminds me of a little trip Mom, Anne, and I took one day when we were kids. On this particular day, we drove a few counties over and decided to grab breakfast at a little roadside diner.

We all studied the menu, and when the waitress came to take our orders, Anne and I both ordered a fried bologna sandwich. When she walked off, Mom looked at the two of us in amazement and said,

“Why on earth would you order a fried bologna sandwich? I make you fried bologna all the time. You can have that at home!” 

Well….the heart wants what it wants, Mom, and given the chance, I’m always gonna go with fried bologna!

Sharing is caring!