My old Uncle Mort, easily East Texas’ most ancient denizen, never throws anything away. “Dear Uncle Mort: I have sat at this desk for almost a year, and am not sure I have learned very much. “Probably some Cajun recipe,” Mickey figured, his analytical mind spinning. He didn’t want his first bike any more than he yearned for that grits recipe, but he figured it might be hard to come by. “Reckon the chef would share the grits recipe?” Mickey coyly asked the server, flashing a toothy smile.