Memory

Just as Violets and Bird of Paradise flowers remind me of my mother, a shaker of dry, grated chili reminds me of my dad. Growing up, I always marveled at how he would cover his spaghetti sauce with cheese and peppers.  The cheese was okay. I'm a fan. But the chili?  I just didn't  get it. Then, well into my 70's, I thought I'd give it a try.   Oh my glory be. My dad had been on to something.  And now? That little Shaker, filled with shaved, dried chili's, is always on the table.  🌶