When we were little, in Small Heath, the old lady next door was a marvellous cook, and my sister and I were regular visitors, toddling through the back gate as soon as we could walk. It was 'Auntie Lou', as we called her, who taught me the basics of cooking.
We loved to be given a plateful of chitterlings (or chicklins, as we called them), served cold, with lots of salt and vinegar and thinly sliced bread and butter. I don't think they were fried - just cleaned, soaked, and boiled, then left to cool and served cold. I've never cooked them myself - they weren't generally available when I left home and started cooking for my own household.
Dad was a traditionalist, to say the least - never wanting 'any of that foreign muck'!. When he was living at my sister's she asked him if he wanted some quiche lorraine. 'Don't give me that foreign muck' came the expected reply. 'What about egg and bacon flan then?' asked my sister. 'Oh yes, that's better' came the reply.