A few weeks ago I wrote a column about one of my all-time favorite snack foods Screaming Yellow Zonkers.

Until then, I thought that Screaming Yellow Zonkers had been relinquished to the junk-food trash heap of history. I hadn’t seen them on supermarket shelves in years and had resigned myself to living a Zonker-free existence for the remainder of my days. more...

How far will a man travel for a good piece of fried chicken?

The answer: 383.75 miles. more...

Rule number 237 of the 362 Undeniable Truths of the Deep South Restaurant Business is: True Southerners never drink mint juleps. more...

In 1969 my Mom, a widowed art teacher raising two small boys on a limited income, taught painting classes out of a small studio room in our attic. Her students— various ladies from the neighborhood— learned how to paint mushrooms onto small blocks of wood using shades of avocado green and harvest gold. more...

When dining in a restaurant and the chef approaches your table asking, “What are you in the mood for?” Your reply should be, “What do you recommend?” more...

My son grabbed a couple of the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and I made a plate of barbeque, although I was eyeballing his plate. Being an adult and wanting to make sure that each of the children got a sandwich, I resisted the pbj temptation and stuck with the grown up food. It was either that, or I just didn’t want to embarrass myself by eating kids food while there was plenty of “grown up food” available. More than likely it was the latter rather than the former. more...

My last New Orleans meal prior to Hurricane Katrina was a lunch with my wife and children at K-Paul’s restaurant. I have often revisited that memorable experience during the stress and rebuilding of these last four months. For my first dining experience back in the city I wanted to return to Paul Prudhomme’s mainstay on Chartres Street. more...

As is the tradition in this column, every December I compile a list of the top ten dining experiences I enjoyed over the past year. The list is never based on price or atmosphere. I believe that good food can be served in a fine-dining environment or in a run-down diner. The only considerations are good food and good friends, which always lead to a good time. more...

These are the letters to Santa that my children dictated to me last night (Holleman 8-year old, Harrison 4-year old). I wrote down everything they said as they said it. I then forwarded the letters to Santa. We’re keeping our fingers crossed for Harrison! more...

Christmas is a season for reflection. As I look back over 44 years, I am humbled by the joys and blessings that I have received, and I am in awe of all of the warm Christmas memories that have been created. more...

Christmas is full of compromises.

When couples wed they bring many things into the union. I’m not talking about bachelor-apartment wire-bale coffee tables, milk-carton two-by-four college-dorm shelving, or great-grandmother’s tacky faux-antique tea set. I’m talking about family traditions and ideas about how things are done within the family unit. more...

As far as my literary agent in New York is concerned, I live in a small Southern town. In reality, I live in a medium-to-large-sized town by Southern standards. more...

Mississippi is full of unsung heroes. The problem with unsung heroes is inherent in the name. they mostly go unsung. The high-profile types get a lot of credit- all deserved- for helping others. There are tens of thousands of unrewarded heroes out there who fall between the cracks. Not as long as I have these 750 words available to me each week. more...

True story: A woman once called the Butterball Hotline to find out how long it would take to roast her turkey. The hotline worker asked how much the bird weighed. The woman responded, "I don't know, it's still running around outside." more...

Mississippi’s literary history is well documented and recognized nationwide, from Mr. Faulkner to Walker Percy, Willie Morris, Eudora Welty, and John Grisham. more...

I receive a lot of e-mail about gumbo.

The majority of the people who enquire about the Deep South’s favorite soup ask about roux. Most e-mailers are scared of roux. more...

It’s cookbook testing time, again.

Last week I started a new diet. This week I started the recipe-testing phase for a new cookbook. Testing recipes and watching calories go together like the New Orleans Saints and the Super Bowl, never the twain shall meet. more...

Last week I invited my eight-year old daughter on a date.

It was the first in what I hope will become a quarterly event. No mom, no wife, no brother, no son, just my daughter and me. more...

I have written often about the quirkiness of some New York restaurants.

Last year I wrote about a Manhattan restaurant that serves blowfish ovaries. Blowfish ovaries, when prepared by a novice chef (and sometimes a skilled one), can kill the person eating them. I also have written about an Upper East Side restaurant that forced diners to eat in complete and total darkness. more...

My sweet tooth has mellowed over the last three decades. However, when I was a 12-year-old kid, my appetite for candy was voracious.

My early days were filled with enough sugar and candy to fill up two childhoods. I consumed more sweets in a week than I would let my children eat in an entire year. more...

In my opinion, the best candy in the long, cavity-filled history of candy was the Marathon bar.

The Marathon bar was produced by the Mars Co. and was introduced in 1973. A Marathon came in an 8-inch long, bright red package with a ruler printed on the back. It was made of braided caramel covered in milk chocolate and took a long time to eat. more...

Last week I was the featured speaker at a ladies luncheon club.

A nice-sized group of 50 ladies were in attendance. The meeting was held in the formal living room of a stately 100-year old home in Brookhaven. Before the speech, the ladies were served tea, cheese straws, and finger sandwiches. more...

Early on, he screamed like a banshee while eating in restaurants. Later, during his terrible twos, he graduated to holding conversations with customers seated at surrounding tables while they were hopelessly trying to finish their meal. Today, in terms of enjoying a peaceful meal away from home, we are miles ahead of where we were in his early years. He no longer yells and screams at the table and rarely, if ever, disturbs neighboring patrons. more...

Last week Austin Leslie, the creator of Creole-Soul food and a true New Orleans culinary journeyman, died in Atlanta. He was 71.

Leslie, who most recently manned the stoves at Pampy’s Creole Kitchen, was best known for his groundbreaking Creole Soul-food restaurant Chez Helene and his world-class fried chicken. more...