hominy, hominy, hominy

Today I took a big step.  I overcame my fear of hominy.  Yep, hominy.  I had a unfortunate experience during my young adult years that involved an open can of hominy, a fork, a filthy house and a hypodermic needle.  I’ll spare the details, but I’ve refused to eat it until tonight.  

Actually I was pleasantly surprised. Jason likes the texture. He’s a texture man when it comes to his food. He likes that mushy middle of a hominy kernel.
I tried out a new recipe for a hominy casserole that I found from thepioneerwoman.com, a site that I check out regularly these days.  I’m envious of this transplanted city girl who gets to stay home, live on a ranch, and homeschool her children.  Uh…I could do without the homeschooling and, well,  the children too. But the staying home and living on a ranch part would suit me just fine. 
 
If you say hominy 3 times fast, you sort of sound like an auctioneer.  Go ahead.  I know you want to.

3 thoughts on “hominy, hominy, hominy

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