It’s been a few years.”“May I serve you?”“Please...” He looked at the dishes on the table. “Ham hocks with navy beans,” he remarked. �...�Collard and mustard greens in pot liquor ... grits ... mac and cheese ... skillet bread. It all looks wonderful, Phyllis.”“The boy knows his soul food,” Oscar remarked.Jason scooped some grits onto his plate and ate a forkful. “Hominy grits,” he remarked. “It’s been a while since I’ve had these.”“How do you know so much about this food?” Phyllis asked.“I grew up. Jock was Scottish, old fashioned and, being about sixty had very old-fashioned ways. There wasn't much point in wiggling my ass to win him over; his plan was to make me wiggle it anyway with that horrible looking strap!‘Which one are you going to choose, lassie?’ The old man pushed me for an answer in his broad Scottish accent.I was mesmerized by the thick length of leather dangling from his gnarled hand and tried to imagine the impact it would have on my backside. Luckily I was wearing jeans. More

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