I believe a man is only as good as his meatballs.
Which is to say that from our earliest days as a species, when chucking spears at the nearest saber-toothed mammal took the place of, say, chucking spent beer cans at the TV after a Browns interception, there has been a primal connection between guys and food.
Tom Hanks, in Castaway, knows what I mean. "I have made fire!" he roars.
The scene left on the cutting room floor is from the next moment, when Tom, weeping, realizes there's no good flank stank for a thousand or so miles. Somehow, a grilled Wilson volleyball doesn't go as well with fermented coconut juice.
Simply put, real men cook.
Read the full essay in the February 27 edition of the Youngstown Vindicator, online here: