Wicked Eats exists because in the summer of 1955 my mother hit her head on an open window. I made her a cup of coffee to ease the pain. That one cup would have kept a Roman Legion awake for months. But, after the first sip, she told me it was delicious with a genuine smile on her face. I have never stopped seeking recipes and methods that generate unexpected smiles. Fried chicken is about as everyday as you can get. But I was a single father with three very hungry kids who got accustomed to dad's culinary delights. Even back then, 70s and early 80s, there was KFC and a few local restaurants that served it. The kids weren't having it. I was ordered to make it scrumptious. It wasn't until the youngest was gone that I got it. I didn't write it down until1998. Now, it and the BBQ chicken are the #1 requests for every party and fundraiser – Barbara and I make it 7-8 times a month. Seems everybody who eats it wants the recipe. The BBQ recipe came from a family of Greek restaurateurs I grew up with. The mom made it for her sons, not for their restaurant - I got it as a family friend. I kept it in the back of my head for about 15 years before I tried it myself. Then I experimented by making it for friends and colleagues, and the kids. It took me 4 years to get it to unexpected smiles and people wanting the recipe. I didn't write it down until 2001. The twist is in preparing the veggies and cooking it the second time. It is way more art than the list of ingredients. Several of the recipes in Book I were created to satisfy very picky guests from my sailboat captain days - my time off from being "IT" 24/7 for my kids. They wanted culinary delights along with learning to sail and drinking a lot of beer for three days. The egg, chicken, and potato salads in Book I had to satisfy the senses and match the soul enriching experience of being under sail for three days. These dishes were so beguiling it was always a challenge as to who would get the last bite without seeming gluttonous. The smiles of satisfaction from all those burgeoning sailors as they scarfed down the last bites still make me grin, ear to ear - it's been almost 40 years since the last sail. When I was a kid in Florida in the 50s, shrimp was what you ate when you couldn't afford chicken. There were endless shops, especially in the Florida Keys, that served fried shrimp cheap just to get people in the door. The art of preparing it as they did died when shrimp became expensive and pre-breaded shrimp from suppliers was cheaper. I didn't realize the art had passed until I ordered fried shrimp in NYC in the 80s. It took me almost 10 years of trial and error to recapture that art. it's in Book II. I've prepared it for people from just about all walks of life. But it was the Wall Streeters who were private students in the late 90s-early 2000s who made me realize how unexpectedly and truly wicked it was. I was bribed with crazy expensive bottles of wine if I'd make it for them the next time they showed up. One of the most beguiling and soul satisfying pieces of culinary art I make is from a recipe that predates the Civil War. I'm the only living soul, up until now, who has it. It's a traditional holiday fruit cake, but so unique in flavor and texture that it generated an avid following 30+ years ago that has never waned. That following includes a former FED Chairman (Paul died late last year), members of the legal stratosphere in NYC and ATL, some of the Latinx community in southwest Connecticut, part of the Jewish community in FL and NJ, and several members of the Live or Die voting coalition in Selma, AL - ++. Even people who said they'd never take a bite mostly end up saying every bite reaches beyond the taste buds. This cake personifies cooking as art when the list of ingredients suggests same old, same old. It's in the last Book, number III.