In Texas, there are three food groups - Tex-Mex, barbecue, and chicken fried steak.

Mmmmm! Chicken fried steak, how I love thee! Battered and tenderized, deep-fried and smothered in (cream) gravy, clogging my arteries and warming my heart. Is there any food finer? I think not.

You know that common question - "What would you want for your last meal?" My answer is simple: chicken fried steak (blanketed in gravy), mashed potatoes (one part potato, one part gravy, one part butter), green beans (drowning in butter), warm rolls (soaked in butter), an endless glass of lemonade, and a piece of the finest, warm pecan pie in creation. Why wait to die to go to heaven? Heaven is a well prepared meal away.

(And incidentally, consuming said feast might put one a step closer to heaven anyway.)

I love chicken fried steak, and I don't eat it often. There are two reasons for this. First of all, I don't want to weigh 300 pounds. Second, many Californians don't even know what chicken fried steak is. Isn't that sad? When I speak of the dish, I'm often rewarded with blank stares and puzzled questions. "What are you talking about, and why is it 'chicken fried?'" Poor West coasters. The tofu wool has been pulled over your eyes.

(And if the juxtaposition of the words "tofu" and "wool" doesn't turn your stomach, nothing will.)

Maybe it's because of the upcoming holiday of thanks which sees me still separated from Texas and, more importantly, from the friends and family who reside there, or maybe it's because my blood was flowing a little too freely, but last night I just had to make chicken fried steak.

So I did.

And I shared it with a fellow Texan (Drew) and three friends who had never had it before - a native Angeleno (Chris), a Frenchman (Simon), and a Chinese Canadian (John) - and one Montanan (Dustin) who had only had it once at a restaurant and wasn't impressed with the restaurant's fare.

Of course, because I don't get out of class on Mondays until 9:30 PM, we didn't get to eat until around 11 PM. While I cooked though, Drew injected a little more Texanity into the evening. He taught everyone how to play 42.

For those of you not from the motherland, 42 is a domino game and the national game of Texas.

That's right, I said "national."

You see, this is all part of my plan to spread Texas goodness to the ends of the earth, and slowly but surely, convert everyone to the better way. My method is simple: invite people in, feed them, and begin teaching them how to live as citizens of God's country. Before you know it, the world will be Texas.

It's already happening. Last night, as the dominoes clicked on the table and the aroma of chicken fried steak filled my apartment, we had a foretaste of things to come. Last night, though clearly not yet everywhere, Texas was already here.

And it was good.

Little glimpses of the kingdom like I had last night give me hope. I might just be able to make it until it's time to go home.