Originally from the Deep South, the comfort food I grew up on was fried chicken, mac and cheese and mustard greens. My dad, a chef of sorts, would come up with new family classics monthly, be it a rare steak, chicken Marsala, pulled pork sandwiches, fried catfish or tilapia covered in scallops and mushrooms. It was not until I was fifteen that our small town got its first Mexican restaurant. This was a very cosmopolitan event for most Natchezians who had grown up on soul food with the exception of Chinese or Italian for special occasions. However, the specialty of the sole Mexican restaurant was the fajitas. Don't get me wrong. They were fabulous but my dad had been making them sporadical