I grew up hating liver. Most kids do. Even when well-meaning cooks attempt to disguise the flavor of a deceased cow's liver by coating it with onions, which I also care not for. Fortunately for me, Mom did not place liver and onions before me very often. But Dad was fond of something he referred to as liver mush. When I was first confronted with the odd-smelling rectangular slab of meat, just its name alone caused me to mentally vomit while my stomach dreaded what my esophagus would soon be offering it.

Turns out it didn’t come from a cow, but rather a pig. Turns out a deceased pig’s liver comprised only about a third of the contents of the liver mush rectangle. It also had cornmeal, which didn’t sound terribly grotesque. But listed on the ingredients were delicacies such as pig ears, pig lips, pig snouts, and other so-called edible areas of a swine’s head.

At the time, a popular commercial was making its rounds on my television. In it, reluctant citizens were encouraged to get past the name of a soft drink and give it a taste. It went something like: “Dr. Pepper, so misunderstood, it must taste good,” or whatever. Still, I was hesitant about the whole liver mush experience. It was traumatic. . . until I tasted it.

Liver mush is now the main ingredient in my favorite breakfast meal. I have heard it referred to as the poor man’s pâté (pronounced “pah-tay”). I have no idea what pâté is, nor do I care much. Pâté sounds too classy. I prefer the flow of the words liver and mush when combined. Here are the things I like about it:

1. It is distinctly Southern, and more importantly, the best of the few distributors who make it, do so within a few miles of my house. I realize there are some similar distributors up north who call it “scrapple,” but it’s a cheap substitute.
2. It is low fat and high protein.
3. It leaves an after-smell in the house once cooked that I think is better than fresh- picked daisies, but that my wife hates. (Which is why I’m seldom allowed to fry it up at home.)
4. Most local restaurants have it on the menu. When you inquire as to its availability, they don’t look at you like you’re an alien idiot like they do in less-cultured locales.
5. It has its own well-deserved annual festival, also near my home.

I enjoy liver mush nearly every Thursday morning in the Gardner-Webb cafeteria. My main man Randy always fries up some rectangles and has them hot and ready for me and few coach friends of mine. We even convinced a new young coach from California to try some liver mush. Bless his heart he gives it a shot each week but has yet to make it through an entire rectangle so far. But I’m still holding out hope for the boy.

In the meantime, I’m sticking with liver mush as my all-time favorite breakfast ingredient. In fact, it goes down good any time of day. Sorry Mom, liver and onions never did if for me, and never will. But thanks, Dad, for introducing me to a true Southern delight. My taste buds and stomach are truly grateful, even if my wife’s kitchen isn’t.