I do not know about you, but as one who has eaten just about everything under the sun (Though my friends will tell you I am not the sweet potato fan.) running into bones is often the least of your worries. But working through foods, eating the meat and spitting out bones is challenging to say the least. I remember one time a meal was prepared for us. The Indian family had taken their last chicken and chopped it up from stem to stern. Everything. You name it, it was in there. (One of my friends crunched down on what he thought was bone, but felt like glass. Welcome to cooked eyeballs.) Harder yet is the fact I come from an “eat it all” (Or no dessert!) generation. Honor does say I will eat sweet potatoes. Continue reading Spit Out The Bones →