In my childhood home there were 3 certainties when it came to your birthday. 1.) You got to pick the type of cake. 2.) You didn't have to help set or clear the table. 3.) You got to pick the menu. All of these "certainties" were subject to expense and reason but, more often than not, you usually got your wish when it came to dinner and cake.
For me, there was nothing like a Bucket of Colonel Saunder's Kentucky Fried Chicken, as it was called back then. This was in a time when fast food was a treat, an indulgence, and long before people started to think eating such crap 3 or 4 days a week was normal. It was certainly well before there was any need to specify "original or extra crispy."To this day I swear I can still taste that crisp greasy treat. The meal was a bucket of chicken, though, not all the other stuff. Mom supplied the potatoes, rolls and anything else one would find in a KFC meal these days.
As I matured the menu choice changed to steak on the grill. How manly can one get? Not only that but my Dad hated chicken and looked forward to any excuse to grill steaks.
In spite of my advancing years the birthday meal slid down the menu tree and has resided somewhere near rock bottom since my daughter was old enough to chew solid foods. I'm happy, though, if not proud. Fortunately my choice is one that is easily adapted to my meatless diet. And so it is, this evening I will sit down and mark the successful completion of an enjoyable and action packed 55 years of life by gobbling up a few Sloppy Joes (made with vegetarian crumbles) and a bag of Cheetos. Crispy fried, of course. Bon appetite.
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