Being a Yankee, I did not have a relationship with okra before moving to Texas in 2007.  I've been known to say (in public) that okra is not a food, it's a weapon.  Dried-up, over-grown okra on the tip of a thick stem surely looks something like a spear, doesn't it? Well, that's what it looked like to this Yankee anyway.

But those days are gone for good. Now I LOVE OKRA. I love okra because we grow it in our garden and harvest it fresh daily. That seems to be the key to okra love for me. And my husband's many years of preparing okra from his home garden. That's a another key for me, for sure.

So, I want to make up for all my negative comments about okra over the years by sharing a little poem today. I wrote it as my contribution to Okra Love in Texoma and on the world wide web:

ODE TO OKRA

I think that I shall never see a vegetable that's so spikey

But young and tender, boiled or fried

Pickled or gumboed, grilled or dried

I learned to love you, finally

Oh you, oh okra, are so tasty

There you have it.

And by the way, I really do dry it. Have you ever tasted dehydrated okra? It's surprisingly sweet. You just pop the little slices in your mouth like chips. Commercially dried okra is a bit greasy and salty, but at home we just make it plain and simple, no oil or salt, and it's plenty delicious that way.

Please, oh please post photos and of your okra and favorite okra recipes for us, too. Okra Lovers Unite!

What did your grandma do with her okra? (My grandma was a Yankee and didn't teach me anything about okra. Sad but true.)

I missed the Okrapalooza in Dallas last month, but you can be sure I'll put it on the calendar for next fall. Maybe I'll even compete...