This would violate one of my food taboos (slimy things), but I will eat okra if it’s sliced and breaded and fried. If you come right down to it, I’ll eat just about anything if it’s breaded and fried or covered with chocolate.
Okra is gratifying in the garden: fast-growing (ten weeks from planting to harvest), prolific and beautiful, with attractive flowers and ribbed pods somewhat resembling chili peppers. Cross-sections of okra look like wagon wheels — the same arrangement of seeds and goo that you see in cross-sections of tomato. Okra goo, however, is like… well, a public blog is no place to say what okra goo is like, but let’s say it’s like thin glue and leave it at that.
Okra probably originated in Africa and was brought to the USA by African people kidnapped into slavery. In Angola, okra was called ngombo, which gave a stew thickened with okra its name: gumbo.
This brings me to what brought okra to mind today: Google’s landing page tells me that today is Art Clokey’s 90th birthday, Art Clokey being the blessed being who brought us Gumby and Pokey. Gumbo, of course, is Gumby’s father. “Gumby”, in fact, is short for Gumbino, or Little Gumbo. With that, I invite you to join me in a frolic in GumbyWorld.
My mother loves okra, and I may someday be mature enough to give it the chance it deserves.
WRITING PROMPT: Invent a story, toy, show, movie, or puppet theater production that gave your main character joy when he or she was a child.