Many months ago Judy and I decided to start our six-month adventure in Turkey and developed an itinerary to work our way across Europe. So, we flew from Philadelphia to New York, New York to Paris and then Paris to Istanbul.
We discussed the recent bombings and unrest in the world but decided that fear was not going to stop us. We’d be mindful and hope for the best. Besides, who can predict when or where the next violent rampage might happen in the United States.
Like Bubba Gump and his endless variety of shrimp, Southern cooks like to fry just about everything. I’ve sampled more than my share of fried pickles, fried okra, fried green tomatoes, fried oysters, fried catfish, fried turkey, fried peanuts, fried apples, fried cheese, corn dogs, fried hand-pies, fried onion rings, fried Oreo cookies, fried sweet potatoes and, of course, fried chicken.
I’m a city girl temporarily living on a thoroughbred horse farm in Ocala, Florida. That’s about a 180 degree flip, but the change has become a blessing. Bucolic pastures of grazing horses now surround me; most with pregnant mares as it is late winter/early spring. I awaken to the sounds of a rooster crowing, hens clucking, horses neighing and dogs barking. When I walk out my apartment door or return to open the car door, five dogs welcome me. I’ve never felt such a loving atmosphere.
I see firsthand the ongoing duties necessary to keep the Broken Back Farm thriving. Here, all creatures are treated with meticulous care and sincere respect.