“I’m always sketchy of people who don’t like grits.” – Author: Jaycee Ford
I have many Yankee friends along with those from other parts of the country. Good folks are good folks no matter where they come from…except when it comes to food…or harping on perceived Southern backwardness which, unfortunately includes our Confederate past and the original sin of slavery and the Jim Crow that came after it. Don’t pontificate because Southerners authored the book on pontification and when you speak to me about fried food or our original sin you are preachin’ to the choir.
If it is backward to revere the callused hands of our forefathers then, yes, we are backward, but most of us are not the repressive, inbred, missing more teeth than we have, morons we are portrayed to be.
We have a gracious plenty of those repressive, inbred morons and I’m missing a few teeth myself, but for most of us, Southern identity has more to do with food, accents, manners, and music than our Confederate flag flyin’ past. I did date a distant cousin once upon a time but only because pickins’ were slim… The emphasis should be on distant and not on cousin. We did not inbreed, nor did we breed in the backseat of my ’63 Ford.
In my circle of friends, Southern identity is open to all races, a variety of ethnic groups, and people who moved here from above the Mason-Dixon. It incorporates more than “South” Alabama or Texas but includes Southern France, Southern Italy, Southern Asia, and any other country you can describe as “South” of anywhere. West Africa, which is south of the South, made an even greater contribution I should add especially when talking about food and music…or our original sin.
In all honesty, the repressive morons are just the most vocal as they watch their way transition to the chamber pot of life. They are not the most numerous. It’s just the rest of us are silent, sitting quietly thinking, “Well, bless your heart.” We should be more vocal and drown them out and the “bless your heart” in this case is a negative comment.
Still, my Yankee friends, there are limits to my Southern sensibilities, mostly those limits involve food…especially this time of year.
I am a day from the first of my three annual physicals and food is on my mind. October, the fright month, and I’m not speaking of the horror of Halloween and candy corn. I’m speaking about the blood work that will be done, the weigh-in, the blood pressure check, the electro-cardiogram with its ice-cold electrodes applied with Gorilla Glue, the body scan to see if any more skin cancer is eating me alive. It will be the yearly reckoning and one that has me tighter than a tick on a fat dog.
I’m a week away from “paying the piper” for a lifetime of excess. Platters of “Southern” fried chicken and catfish, oversized cathead biscuits smothered in creamy sawmill gravy, salty pork rinds, cigars, and brown liquor. Since my heart attack in 2006, my diet has been limited to mostly leaves and cardboard, the seasonings removed from the angelic hands of my ancestors and replaced with a bit of shaken Mrs. Dash.
Little fried, little creamy, little salty, limited cigars and little brown liquor…well, brown liquor can be used for medicinal purposes, and I light the cigar to smell it more than I smoke it. The keyword is little as in much less than I might wish, so, my sensibilities are affronted when my Yankee friends try to school me on “good” food.
It could be I’m just amid a bacon grease withdrawal. For instance, and in no order:
Throwing away the bacon grease instead of using it as a “flavorin’.” Blasphemy! Bacon grease should be stored in a coffee can right on the stovetop for easy access. Bacon grease is culinary “gold.” Eggs fried or scrambled in bacon grease, greens or beans sautéed in bacon grease and then cooked to death. Bacon grease cooked in bacon grease.
Biscuits and creamy sawmill gravy are most certainly a main course and biscuits running in butter and honey are a dessert. To say otherwise could end a friendship.
It is Duke’s Mayonnaise, or it is nothing. If I have a choice between Hellman’s or Miracle Whip, I’ll look for mustard to put on my tomato sandwich. Yuck. Sidenote, tomato sandwiches should be served on soft, white bread. Save your multigrain for Reubens and such.
Also, I am well-read. I know a tomato is a fruit and not a vegetable in every state of the union save one. It is a vegetable in South Carolina by legislative decree. As if my legislators have no better use of their time.
Don’t serve grits from those little brown packets that you microwave with water and then gripe about how bland they are. Grits are a blank canvas. They should be stone ground, cooked with cream, and at the minimum contain cheddar cheese and butter. And please, just serve me the box that the packets of “flavored” grits come in. Addendum: Grits should never be served with sugar.
I’ll drink water from a stagnant, primordial swamp before I drink unsweetened tea. It should be served sweet with lemon slices to sour it up. One more Southern paradox?
Instant tea? Just shoot me.
Chicken fried steak and country fried steak are not the same. Chicken fried involves egg batter, country fried a dusting of flour only. Note to prospective cooks, I’ll eat either and smile.
Don’t ask me to come for the barbecue and then serve hot dogs and hamburgers. That’s grillin’. A barbecue is not a place. Barbecue is slow-cooked pig parts over wood coals. Barbecue is a noun, not a verb. Note: If you want to serve some of those German sausages in addition to the slow-cooked pig parts that will be fine with me. Put it in a bun and you can pretend it is a hot dog and I’ll be okay. I’ll even eat one.
Mac and cheese should not come from a little box that contains everything you need to make it taste like noodles and Velveeta and nothing else. Good mac and cheese is not orange in color. It is a cheesy crisp brown on the outside and at the corners and creamy and pale on the inside. It contains more than just mac and cheese. Addendum: It is also perfectly acceptable to list good mac and cheese on the vegetable menu of your local ‘meat and three.’
Side note: good cornbread doesn’t come from a package or a box and “nanner puddin'” should not be made with instant pudding.
Finally, viewing Southern food as only fried chicken, pork, or fish and biscuits is a great over-simplification. The Southern food of our forefathers was plant-based. Granted, many of those plants were fried or flavored with bacon grease or fatback and very well-seasoned. Staples included stewed okra and tomatoes, whole-grain cornbread, winter greens, corn, butterbeans, sweet potatoes, and both winter and summer squash. Fried meat, poultry, or fish served daily is a modern contrivance. Certainly, there are Southern dishes that are indulgent, but indulgent food is found in any cuisine. Beef Stroganoff anyone?
Postscript: My first battery of test came back great. My cholesterol was 121. Biscuits and gravy here I come. I’ve got a year to work it off.
Don Miller’s newest book is live on Amazon and may be purchased in paperback or download at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09GNZFXFT
7 thoughts on “An Affront to my Southern Sensibilities”
This was a great post reminding me of all the food loves I rarely indulge in and homemade is key🥺 White-bread and miracle whip on my tomato sandwich and of course the tomato has to taste like a “real” tomato😀
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I have only one thing you mentioned that I do not understand or wish to eat….that strange greyish gravy they put on biscuits. Grits on the other hand are something I look forward to in the South. As for dietary restrictions; following a major intestinal surgery for colorectal cancer 21 years ago I cannot eat fiber. This is to prevent intestinal blockages. I have had a couple and I will go a long way now to avoid any more. So no whole wheat anything, white bread only, no blueberries, corn, raspberries, rhubarb or red river cereal. Rice Crispies, white bread, strawberries, potatoes with no skin, no legumes ( beans) no kale ( thank god) but cabbage and lettuce are ok. So I sympathize with your dietary restrictions.
It has to be sawmill gravey which has sausage in it. Sorry for your restrictions.
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The restrictions are a small price to pay for being alive 21 years later! Have a good week ahead.
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My-oh-my Don, somebody got you really riled up about your good Southern cooking 😀 Lucky you to have passed your doctor’s battery of health checks! I didn’t do so well 😦
By the way, I’ve finished reading your latest book. An entertaining read. A brief review on Amazon will follow shortly.
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Thank You. I hate to admit I haven’t been able to start yours yet. Soon.
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