I was in South Arkansas today to meet with an account and agent. We ate lunch at this little country hole-in-the-wall buffet--pronounced BUF-fay, here in the South--because it was chicken-fried steak day and the agent was pretty excited about that.
The pretty little greeter knew my lunch companions and told us that, although she didn't manage to shoot any deer over the weekend, her two boys did, so it was a good weekend. I share this so you understand that we're talking real and true Southern country food.
For dessert you could pick from the requisite banana pudding, a square of yellow cake with chocolate icing, or cherry cobbler.
It was no contest. I reached for the dish holding a mashed pile of artificially brilliant red goo and the uniform thumb-sized cherries.
You see, even in the best holes-in-the-wall, they know better than to compete with canned cherry pie filling. That stuff will be at the Feast of the Lamb when we get to heaven.
Some things are just plain good. Like God and cherry pie filling. Being perfect, they don't change. And for that I'm very thankful.
Thank you, God, for cherries, and for red #40 and the folks who make it, and for the marvel of canned cherry pie filling. Thank you for that tart-sweet taste that will always be the same no matter how foreign an environment might seem. And thank you that, much like this gem among desserts, you are sweet and you do not change.