Lovin' the lunchman



Every time I walk in the sliding doors at Publix, there you are with your cute apron, hair-net covering and wire-rimmed glasses, standing behind various pans of delicious creations. Quiet and reserved, you are always friendly and ready to offer me free food - my ultimate dream. I compliment you on your cooking, calling you the best chef in Charleston, and you modestly tell me that you "just follow the recipe!" You don't even look at me reproachfully when my inner fat-kid asks for a second plate. Thanks, my silver culinary fox. I just thought you should know that you are appreciated. And loved.


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