My mom was well known around town for her eccentric style, and the way she shopped, cooked and dressed made my family stand out even more. We were colorful (in a weird way) before reality TV made being odd and dysfunctional cool and edgy.But, like most kids, I just wanted to fit in and eat pizza. But my mom hated blending in even more than she hated pizza (unless, maybe, it was topped with eggplant and arugula). She insisted on making Basque pickled tongue and soup with chicken feet. Normal just wasn’t her thing. Of all the strange dishes that colored my childhood, oxtail soup stands out the most in my memories.