LICK CHICKEN

                Lick Chickeners would a named their little flock Finger Lickin' Good, but state law forbade three word towns; so Lick Chicken it was.  And in small town Lick Chicken, Fat Pats was the place to be.  "Just about the only place to be," locals liked to say bout what most Lick Chickeners considered second home.

                "Like coffee with that cream?" Fat Pat giggled at Slim Jeno still a 4 am a dream with cream server a stuck a tilt. "Your cup runneth over, Hun." She giggled again at her dark haired Hungarian.

                "What?" Coffee ran off diner counter top onto his apron. "Well, that's one way to get caffeine." Slim Jeno mumbled.  As wife built napkin dam, he sat server down. Without stirring he bent over, mouth to coffee mug, slurped away coffee and cream surplus.

                "My aren't we a little piggy this morn?" Pat snickered, elbow nudged struggling to awake hubby.

                "Oink," Jeno punctuated with semi-giggle of his own.

                From the kitchen they heard clank of pans. "The faithful staff arrives." Fat Pat sighed.

                "Ah, faith, the substance of things hoped for; the evidence of that not seen," Slim Jeno quote, almost awoke.

                "Ah, and Biblical too this beautiful morning.  Was that Hebrews 11:1, King James no less?  Who is this husband of mine?" Pat smiled, drew strength, for the a hungered hordes, they were a coming.

                Jeno turned attention from morning brew.  Took time to drink in the beauty before him, "Freckles of auburn, matching eyes and curls of a girl with svelte curves, how I love you." Slim Jeno gave wife lips to lips peck, rose from seat, stretched eyes wide, sighed, "Time to roll out the old szilvas gomboc," and headed for kitchen door.

                As she did every morning, Fat Pat turned it over in her mind, and spilled out mouth one more time, "Szilvas gomboc, Hungarian plum dumplings, who knew?" She spoke of once struggling slapjack diner turned country wide sensation.  For even 20 miles away the szilvas gumboc a hungered big city folks due north were deterred not even by predawn dark. "Lord, thank you for my husband," Fat Pat a tad misty eyed sat, and added, "and thank You too for the good folks of Lick Chicken."

                Slim, not portly, local patrons had mis-dubbed Patricia Ann Foszakacs, Fat Pat.  Portly, not slim, Jeno Foszakas had received similar mis-nomer, Slim Jeno.  Perhaps the nicknames said more about the coiners than the recipients there of.  For you see the folks of Lick Chicken were a nest full of affable good good eggs near always on the verge of hatching local peep of small town adage; all be it a bit scrambled.

                "After all," so ran the oft misquoted Lick Chicken motto, "a licked chicken tastes better cooked." While the official town motto really twas, "A licked chicken tastes better tallow fried." Yet, even the for real town motto reflected name of Lick Chicken to be somewhat askew; seeing as how the areas main industry to be cattle and a tallow rendering plant. "Seems oft we ought trace the seams... of what seems to be..." Lick Chickeners were apt to often say.

                But we digress, for while the non-fat Fat Pat tended cash register setup and the hundred other details of dining area; in the kitchen, as morning tradition, the staff huddled round one round Slim Jeno.  Together they repeated morning prayer, "Dear Lord, in Jesus name we pray, the food we prepare this day, be blessed nourishment unto the least of these our bretheren." And with a big, "Amen," their hearts and hands sprang into action.

                In little more than an hour, thru kitchen door wafted doughy cinnamon and brown sugary sweet szilvas gomboc.  And no coincidence was it that in that same little more than an hour the first wave of a hungered hordes, well in they invaded. Some half asleep a mug of coffee needing to drain, some slapping old pal backs, more than a few greeted by crowd by name.  And the newbees, well the door barely hit them in the behind afore the no chicken lips Lick Chickeners gave shout out, "Newbee Welcome!" Sometimes they sang this welcome tradition in unison, sometimes they sang it in echo ripple, but everytime every person got good greeting.  For at Fat Pats, Lick Chickeners liked to say and do, "In Lick Chicken nobody... remains a nobody long..."

                And those special somebodies began their mornings at Fat Pats with healthy homemade food, not a usual cuisine for an establishment that had started as slapjack greasy spoon.  The menu and plates served abounded with fresh fruit and vegetables from garden green bean scrambled eggs to slapjacks fresh peach inlaid, and of course the number one requested Hungarian plum dumplings. The a hungered hordes ate that szilvas gomboc 'for here' and ordered 'for there' an extra dozen or two 'to go' for co-workers and family.  More than a few called ahead to place special orders over two dozen.

                 But the peculiar people of the peculiar Fat Pats, Lick Chickeners and newbee honorary Lick Chickeners alike, had one more peculiar tradition... At exactly 7 am each morning Monday thru Saturday, Slim Jeno and faithful staff emerged from kitchen... And all listened to what Slim Jeno had to say, "In Matthew 25: 35 KJ, our precious Jesus said, 'For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in..."


The meaning of this little story may be found in Matthew chapter 25 verses 31 thru 46, a parable by Jesus in the recipe of Life, the sweeter than honey Holy Bible.  Key words are, "...an hungered... and ...the least of these, my bretheren..."

And I wonder, just wonder, bout the symbolic significance of them small town Lick Chickeners and even that szilvas gomboc... I just wonder... Could it possibly, not so much by chance, have a little something to do with the heart of every dumpling being plum filled with fruit... (fruit: verses 5 & 8 of John 15:1 thru 12)


                                           ...Food not only for lips of flesh...