On the upside, she would have us pick green (unripe) mangos from the mango trees that grew all over the city. She would then make the most wonderful, tart green mango jelly from them.

Bruce F. Webster
Central America Mission

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In the small town of Milton, my companion and I were friendshipping Agnes, not a member of our church, whose two teenage granddaughters living with her were recent converts. Their home was humble, and Agnes, who was always dressed in overalls and a plaid shirt, raised most of their food.

I'll always remember her crooked arthritic fingers covered with dirt from digging up turnips and other vegetables for us to take home.

One day she proudly showed us her "leather britches." It was not her laundry, but some kind of wide bean pods she had grown, picked and strung on heavy thread or string all around her kitchen to dry until they were brown as could be. On one of our visits she cooked up a pot of her leather britches reconstituted with water and flavored with extra-thick bacon chunks. Those leather britches were a little tough to chew, but actually tasted pretty yummy.

Kristi Fraughton Chapman

West Virginia Charleston Mission

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One of the most interesting things that happened to us with food was the time we were invited to a New Year's Eve barbecue by the stake presidency.

We were getting ready to eat and I noticed a bowl of meat at the table, and I asked the stake president what it was. He told me that it was goat meat and was just reserved to be eaten at midnight, a Filipino tradition. I told him, "Oh, we have to be home long before then" and kiddingly remarked that I was hoping to taste some. "Well, you can taste this," he said and handed me a bowl that looked exactly like the one on the table.

The prayer was said and I took a spoonful only to get a very unpleasant and very leathery taste in my mouth. I leaned over to our sweet Filipino house help who was with us and asked her what it was. She smiled at me and said, "Oh, it is just goat skin, half raw and half cooked."

Then, to make matters worse, the stake president sat down next to us with this bright green mixture that looked like green tapioca over rice and said, "Sister, you need to taste this; it is just delicious." We were rescued again by our house help, who told me, "don't eat that; it is goat bile."