Poop on a Brick

I announced to more than one person today that I would be making Poop on a Brick for dinner. You know me, I didn't call it poop. As I was making my Hamburger Gravy on Biscuits tonight I realized what a huge role Poop on a Brick has played in my life.

My mother has always claimed "I will never win Mother of the Year." There is an entire staff at Up With Kids Day Care who will support that claim. I distinctly remember asking my mom in front of everyone if we could have Poop on Toast for dinner. Sorry mom!

The first time I made Poop on Toast myself was a complete disaster. Three distinct factors came into play. First, I was following the lead of my mother. She's a wonderful cook who just kind of wings it. It's not like I was working off a Betty Crocker Cookbook. Second, I have a grandmother who lead me to believe that when it comes to anything with the word Gravy in it Kitchen Bouquet is the way to go. WRONG! Third, I follow in the footsteps of a grandfather who thought more salt made everything taste better. I agree, but not everyone else does. My failure was a pan of brown sludge. Dad suggested we have something else and I try again some other time.

Shit on Shingles, Poop on a Brick, whatever you call it, it's good stuff. Unlike the "One Big Nacho" I'm unable to share my recipe. There's no big family secret here. I've jut finally figured out how to wing it too.