There should be a law against boiled okra!

by Michael “Mike” Cavin

Okra.  Just say the word a time or two. It’s easy to pronounce, the spelling is unusual, and the taste is pleasing and very different from anything else from a garden or a market.  Okra is also a very versatile vegetable; however, the only civilized way to prepare it is through frying or pickling.  Please don’t destroy the reputation of this plant by boiling it!!!!!  For the life of me, I cannot understand why someone would boil okra or how they could ingest it once they did!!!  Who on earth did get that started???  Was it the same person that ate the first raw oyster or pickled the first pig’s foot?  About forty years have passed since my first and last time trying boiled okra, but the memory still haunts me.

It happened on a Friday in early August.  We had worked in the tobacco fields all morning, and when noon finally came around, we all headed out for dinner. Usually, I would cross the river to this little store. I would pull a smoked sausage from the jar, and have the clerk cut me off a quarter-pound of cheese from the cheese wheel. This would go with my soda crackers and that would be it. On this particular day, the mother of one of the farmhands called the entire crew to the big house to join her family at the table.  I wasn’t going to pass that up! 

The spread of food was terrific!  About ten of us sat around staring at bowls of biscuits, taters, greens, cornbread and much more.  Someone gave the blessing, then we all started passing the bowls and digging in.  Mom and dad always told me that while eating at someone else’s house, I was required to taste a little bit of everything the host offered, even if I didn’t like it.  That was plain manners back where I grew up since I didn’t want to offend the host by saying, “No thanks, I don’t like that.”  Food started heading my way…green beans, mashed potatoes, gravy, sweet potatoes, fried chicken, biscuits, butter, mustard greens, pickled watermelon rinds, etc.  After a while, I noticed this great big bowl of something heading my way that was dark green in color and sort of jiggling around in the bowl as it was being passed.   No!   Not today!   I realized what was heading my way, but this couldn’t be happening!  The bowl made its way into my hands, and all I could do was just stare down at it.   Boiled okra.   Why?   Why today?   I don’t think I can do this!  In the back of my head, I could hear mama, “You must always try at least a taste of everything when you’re eating at someone else’s house, or you’ll hurt their feelings.”

The next time I have the pleasure of encountering my dear mother, I shall graciously suggest a revision to our societal norms. It is my humble opinion that we should have the option to politely refuse the consumption of repulsive dishes, such as boiled okra.

The bowl was huge and filled to the brim with something that would have made a bowl of cow cud look appetizing.  I slowly attempted to spoon out just a little tad of the nasty substance onto my plate, but before I could clear the bowl, it all slimed right over the spoon.  I made a second attempt, but that too just slimed off the spoon, then a third attempt, and so on.  Before ending up the center of attention, I figured it to be easier to cradle the bowl in my arm and tilt it just enough to let a little of it ooze onto my plate.  Well, it didn’t work as planned.  That stuff has quite the bond, for about four quarts of that putrid, oozy, offensive goop ended up on my plate! It completely smothered all of the good stuff that I had been looking so forward to delving into!  Well, I reckon I’m stuck with it now.  Boiled okra will gag a maggot, so how I was going to force this down with a straight face?  Somehow, I maintained my composure through the okra, and the okra-soaked biscuits and lived to see the day I could put this experience to paper.  Just always keep in mind the following phrase, and you will be OK:  “Friends, don’t let Friends eat Boiled Okra.”

We will be featuring previously written short stories by Thermopolis resident Mike Cavin that are included in his memoir “There Should Be A Law Against Boiled Okra” ©2017.