44. Caramel Cake–Like a Hug, but Tastier

26 Jun

I made this. Yum.

If you happen to be in the South and happen to be offered a slice of caramel cake (or better yet, somebody’s grandmother’s caramel cake), proceed with caution. Much like heroin, one hit’s too many and a thousand is never enough.

I have never met a caramel cake I didn’t like. Mostly, I think, because Betty Crocker has yet to throw her hat in the ring. That I know of, anyway.

Caramel cake is a bit of a misnomer, seeing as the cake isn’t caramel at all. It’s the icing that’s caramel. Well, actually, even the icing isn’t caramel. It’s caramel-esque. And way better than any plastic-wrapped caramel you’ve ever encountered.

The first time I attempted a caramel cake, the icing turned out gritty. Did I still eat it? You bet. See “never met a caramel cake I didn’t like” above.

caramel cake in progress, a still life

The second time, I turned to the Patron Saint of Southern Cooking, Paula Deen. She did not disappoint. And, so, having mastered my technique, I decided to treat my sister to a home-baked caramel cake. What I didn’t plan on was my sister’s sad, sad baking pans. Perhaps I should have switched to sheet cake mode, but I was determined to wow my sister. And wow her I did.

So the cakes stuck to the pans, but I ingeniously inverted them, crumbly side down. Which worked ok for the first layer. Halfway through icing the second layer, an avalanche sent one side of the cake sliding. Not to be defeated, I kept icing that sucker, which was getting crumblier by the second. Even my six-year-old nephew who loves to help in the kitchen decided it was hopeless and abandoned the project in favor of Sponge Bob.

My sister took one look at the cake and said, “What happened??” Me: “It stuck to the pans.” Jenna: “What pans did you USE?” I showed her the culprits. Jenna: “Well, no wonder!”

It wasn’t pretty, but that did not deter us from enjoying a slice. (Well, not so much a slice as a glob). But then, we’ve been known to eat my sister-in-law’s carrot cake rescued from a fall to the floor, which is a story for another time.

If you take a notion to make your own caramel cake, I recommend Paula Deen’s recipe. However, I leave out her layer of filling and have never missed those extra two sticks of butter and two cups of sugar. The icing isn’t a true caramel, but I’ve yet to figure out how that culinary feat is accomplished. I’ve tried many a time, but for me caramel always ends in disappointment or disaster.

Anybody happen to have their grandmother’s caramel cake recipe? Please do share!!

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43. Cracker Barrel: Putting the Kitsch in Kitchen

25 Jun

"Cracker Barrel" by keithlam

You’d think the novelty of nostalgia would have worn off by now, but judging from the ever-crowded parking lot, I reckon not. But then Cracker Barrel combines two of Southern women’s greatest loves: eating and shopping. Also, you can get in quite a bit of gossiping, too, depending on who you run into and how long you have to wait for a table.

I’m not going to extol the virtues of Cracker Barrel’s food, because I fail to see any. Ok, I’ll admit, they do have some good pecan pancakes that come with wee bottles of maple syrup. I know this because whenever I’d come home to visit, Mom would wake me up WAAAAY early the next day (like around 9:00) to go get some pancakes.

"Sweet Treats" by Lorianne DiSabato

What Cracker Barrel lacks in culinary skills, they make up for in kitsch. Where else are you going to find cornbread pans, patriotic clocks, wooden toys, and old-timey candy all in one place? Ok, maybe your grandmother’s house. But the candy will likely be not so much old-timey as just plain old.

"Peg Leg" by JasonChamberlain

There’s plenty to look at while you wait, and the fun doesn’t stop after you’re seated. Who’s up for a challenging round of the peg game? You know the one with a triangle-shaped piece of wood featuring pegs filled with golf tees? The object is to “jump” and remove the other tees, leaving only one tee standing. It sounds more exciting than it is. But then, maybe I’m just bitter because I’ve yet to win.

I’ve only ever been to Cracker Barrel for breakfast because from what I hear, that’s the only meal worth eating. However, I can’t imagine the food would be any worse than the short-lived “Po Folks” that we used to patronize frequently in college. Because, hey, we WERE po folks, and most anything beats Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.

Though I do enjoy poking around in the general store, I haven’t eaten at Cracker Barrel in the last three years. My mom loved those pancakes enough to endure breakfast with a grumpy, jetlagged daughter, and it wouldn’t feel right eating them without her.

What’s your favorite part of the Cracker Barrel experience?

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42. Moon Pies, Perhaps the Finest Food Ever Wrapped in Cellophane

20 Jun

How they got to be called “moon pies,” I really don’t know. They’re round, so I get the “moon” part. But they do not resemble a pie AT ALL. At least no pie I’ve ever seen, and I’m sure y’all know I’ve seen a fair share of pies.

Moon Pies are more like a cross between a cookie and a cake: a layer of marshmallow creme sandwiched by two cakey-ish layers all dipped in a flavored coating. My favorite is banana. But they also come in vanilla and chocolate.

I had not seen a Moon Pie in decades, so when my sister and I made a road trip from Seattle to Portland a few years back, imagine my surprise when I spotted a box of banana Moon Pies in a tote-sum store along the way. I came out of the store beaming, carrying a sack full. My sister didn’t see what the big deal was. I guess Moon Pies are pretty prevalent in Memphis. But Moon Pies within driving distance of Seattle? Hallelujah!

Forward thinker that I am, I did not make note of the name/location of the store, so I can’t find them again. Probably a good thing. Because I’ve been known to eat them for breakfast. Which reminds me of my favorite “white trash” breakfast that I haven’t had in at least 10 years: those little powdered-sugar covered donuts and a can of orange soda. Please don’t ask. I cannot begin to explain or justify.

I’m going down to Memphis sometime in the next month to meet my soon-to-be-arriving nephew Eli, and I intend to smuggle home at least a few Moon Pies. I’m still on the lookout for the boiled peanuts, but in the mean time, if y’all want Moon Pies, let me know.

P.S. This just in: would you believe they sell Moon Pie lip balm? Two great tastes that taste great together. Alas, no banana flavor. Vanilla will have to do.

What’s your favorite variety of Moon Pie? Have you ever had one of the “single-deckers”? Do they really exist?

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41. Stuckey’s: Home of Pee Breaks and Pecan Log Rolls

19 Jun

Stuckey's, Coffee County, Tennessee by naslrogues

Every road trip I ever suffered through as a child included at least one stop at Stuckey’s. Which was often the highlight of the whole ordeal. How to describe Stuckey’s to the uninitiated? Hmm…a gas station, restaurant, souvenir shop, ice cream parlor, and candy store all in one. Kind of a low-rent version of Disneyland, sans rides, dorky hats, and teenagers sweltering in Disney character costumes.

Anybody who’s ever been to Stuckey’s knows I’m building it up way too much, but y’all have to admit that to a road-weary kid, Stuckey’s is pretty awesome. Except for the bathrooms. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a clean bathroom in a Stuckey’s. But, hey, look! There’s a figurine made out of a clam shell! A rubber alligator! Peanut brittle!

What I remember most about Stuckey’s is that they used to sell their own brand of melt-in-your-mouth peppermint balls. I remember this because I’ve spent the rest of my life (so far) trying to find a decent substitute. If y’all know of any, please let me know.

My sister and I never left Stuckey’s without new “Yes and Know” books in hand. These were filled with trivia questions or word games, and you revealed the “invisibly printed” answers with a “magic pen.” As I got older (or perhaps my eyesight improved), I realized you could read the “invisibly printed” answers without the use of the “magic pen” AKA yellow highlighter. However, until I Googled them just now, some thirty-odd years later, I didn’t catch anything odd about the tagline “Hours and hours of by-yourself enjoyment.” Hmm.

My mom always had to have a box of sesame sticks (which were WAY exotic back in the day) and the ever-popular Pecan Log. This is not as gross as it sounds, but almost. I don’t remember anything my dad enjoyed about Stuckey’s other than getting the hell out of there and back on the road. Of course, we didn’t often get to-go drinks because a pit stop was to “empty” not “fill up.”

Anytime I happen to be on a road trip in the South, I can never pass up a Stuckey’s. They’re harder to find these days, but if you’re on the road from Jackson, MS to Memphis, there’s one in Vaiden. Last time I checked.

Alas, while they do still sell a bunch of Stuckey’s brand food-like substances, the peppermint balls are long gone. However, I’m happy to report that the bathrooms are just as nasty as ever.

What do y’all remember about Stuckey’s?

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40. Gossip–Whispering Dixie

18 Jun

"gossip cats!" by fofurasfelinas

Forget Entertainment Tonight or People magazine. Southerners only want to hear gossip about people they KNOW. Or in a pinch, about one of their friends’ relatives. You will not often hear Southern women speculating on how many more children Brangelina will collect. Not when the next-door neighbor is collecting a passel of her own…all by different daddies. But y’all didn’t hear that from me.

The best kind of gossip is of the ongoing saga variety. Preferably involving people who are bat-shit crazy. I mean, who cares about the new TV your uncle bought at Walmart? Unless you mention that your aunt poured a fifth of 151 over the old one and set it ablaze. Along with his power saw and his favorite rodeo belt buckle. Why? Was he cheating? Lying? Stealing? No, Springer was a rerun, and she didn’t have anything better to do.

While Southern folks love exchanging the latest juicier-than-watermelon tidbits, there’s only so much that can happen in a day. Which is why we’ve perfected the art of gossiping about what happened…10, 20, 30 years ago. Faulkner said it best: “The past is never dead. It’s not even past.”

Y’all might think I mean reminiscing. Nope, that’s just talking about what happened. We Southerners like to talk about what might have happened, what ought to have happened, or what might could happen now that what happened happened. If y’all understood that last sentence, you get an honorary degree in Southern Vernacular Sentence Structure.

The thing you have to keep in mind about Southerner’s gossip is: A. We tend to exaggerate. B. We often misremember. Not always on purpose. And C. If what you said ever gets back to us, we WILL hold a grudge. Oh, we may not let you know, but you will find out one day. Oh, yes, you will.

And, of course, there’s always that “telephone” game factor. The story doesn’t even have to go through four or five people before it gets permanently disfigured. After my last trip home, I’ve decided that any information I get from my dad henceforth will have to be corroborated.

Case in point:
Me: “I’ve started taking kick-boxing classes.”
My dad to my sister: “Kim’s toughening up. She’s doing kick-boxing competitions.”
My sister: “Um…I don’t think so…”

One last note: Do not miss a family gathering because what they say TO you is hardly ever as bad as what they say ABOUT you.

What’s the most popular topic of gossip in your particular circle?

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39. Cool Whip–Cream of the Non-dairy Crop

17 Jun

Do the Cool Whip by sweetmusichearts

In case you’re wondering why it’s taken me so long to get around to Cool Whip, I must confess that I haven’t used it in so long that I almost forgot about it. UNTIL…I was eating at a restaurant near my hometown called Mama & Mamee’s. (Many thanks to my friend Tammy Tadlock who recommended the place!!)

At a later date, I will extol the wonderful deliciousness of the entrees, but for now I’m skipping straight to dessert. Have y’all ever been tempted to look over a dessert menu and say, “I’ll have one of everything”? I know I have. Many a time. But I never actually DID it. UNTIL…well, there were six desserts on the menu, and they all sounded equally good. There were three of us, and we were all equally smitten. Plus, the desserts were only $1.99 each. Which by the math I remember from high school meant two desserts for less than the price of one at any other restaurant anywhere. So we ordered six desserts and three spoons.

If I recall correctly, our waitress delivered: white chocolate bread pudding, coconut cake, Hershey’s cake, earthquake cake, banana pudding, and the ice cream sandwich cake, which was what got me to remembering Cool Whip.

After much tasting and speculating and finally asking the waitress, we determined that the ice cream sandwich cake consisted of a layer of ice cream sandwiches, a layer of caramel, a layer of Cool Whip, and a generous sprinkling of toffee bits. How could something that simple (and cheap!) be that plate-lickingly delicious? Magic? Love? Who cares! But I know what I’m bringing to the next potluck. Y’all get ready.

Ever since I bought my own Starbucks-style whipped cream dispenser, I’ve developed a strong preference for real whipped cream. Ok, yes, I’m whipped cream snob. But I will always have a place in my heart (and on my plate) for good, old-fashioned Cool Whip. Because without it, you cannot make my absolute favorite dessert in the world: Chocolate Stuff.

Chocolate Stuff

2 sticks melted butter
2 cups flour
Pecans (however many you want)

Mix and bake in a Pyrex dish at 350 for 25 minutes. Set aside to cool.

8 oz. Cream cheese
1 cup Cool Whip
1 cup sifted confectioner’s sugar

Cream together and layer half of this mixture onto cooled crust.

2 (4 oz.) instant chocolate pudding mixes
3 cups of milk

Beat together and spread on top of cream cheese mixture. Top with additional Cool Whip and chopped pecans.

Don’t plan on seeing this one at a potluck anytime soon. It’s kind of a bitch to make. Also, I find it difficult to share.

What’s your favorite recipe involving Cool Whip?

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38. Toothpicks or When Rednecks Accessorize

16 Jun

At many a Southern eatery, you’ll find a toothpick dispenser next to the cash register. Look for it by the used-to-be-complimentary Andes mints that they now want five cents for. Cheap bastards. But, hey, at least the toothpicks are still free.

I’m not sure how this tradition got started. What am I Wikipedia? But I really wish I could put an end to it. There are few things less appetizing than seeing people pick their teeth in public. Which is why I don’t understand how restaurant owners can recklessly leave toothpicks lying around knowing that the toothpickers will surely be seen by incoming customers.

I’m always tempted to say to the server, “I WAS going to have the filet mignon, but now I’d just like some Sprite and saltines.” But as a former waitress, I try to keep the snarky comments to a minimum. And tip big.

Seriously, people, tooth picking – like nose or belly button picking – ought to be done in private. That’s what bathrooms are for. Ok, that’s not their primary purpose, but still.

What’s maybe even worse than actively plucking food particles is those people who walk around with a toothpick in their mouth ALL THE TIME. Like they never know when they’ll happen upon corn on the cob and must be prepared.

At tote-sum stores in the South, they sell FLAVORED toothpicks for chain toothpickers who presumably aren’t into the natural woody flavor. Cinnamon is popular, but I’m pretty sure I’ve seen mint. Maybe even wint-o-green.

Back in junior high, toothpick chewing was popular for about a week. If I recall correctly, we made our own with cinnamon oil. Where we got the cinnamon oil, I don’t know. That doesn’t seem like something they’d regularly stock at Kroger.

Thankfully, some teacher or concerned parent decided that this was a nasty habit/choking hazard, so toothpicks earned the spot of bubble gum’s wicked step-sister. And I was spared from what might have been months of looking like a hayseed. Whew!

What’s your stance on tooth picking in public?

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37. Chick-fil-A

7 May

I’m going home for my dad’s wedding in a few weeks, and can’t wait to get me a Chick-fil-A sandwich. Yum! Those of y’all not familiar with Chick-fil-A might think this is just another fast food sandwich along the lines of McDonald’s Filet-o-fish. Well, two words: Nuh Uh! Chick-fil-A is the best chicken sandwich in the universe. Ever. Plus, it’s cheap! And fast!

Words cannot convey how amazing this sandwich is, but I won’t let that stop me from trying: it’s a DD-size breast o’ chicken dipped in some kind of breading and magical spices and then deep fried. But it’s not all greasy like something you’d find at KFC. Not that I’m claiming it’s some granola-ish health food. It just lacks the traditional fast food oil slick. The chicken breast (or “fil-A”) is cradled by a buttered bun and garnished with two pickle slices. No nasty Thousand Island goo. No sickly-sweet ketchup. Just two pickle slices.

I never manage to get up early enough for it, but one of these days I’m going to get a Chick-fil-A biscuit. I can’t even speculate how good that will be, seeing as biscuit trumps bun any day.

Considering my undying love for carbohydrates, y’all might be surprised to note that sometimes I skip the bun altogether and go straight for the nuggets. They’re that good.

When my mom died, I took a red-eye and got home around 10 a.m. Folks had already started bringing food, and the first thing I spotted was a gi-normous tray of Chick-fil-A nuggets. They were gone before 11:00. I couldn’t tell you how many I ate. A. Because I don’t remember and B. I’d be embarrassed to say. My best guess: a lot. I don’t know who brought them, but thank you, thank you, thank you. The next tray’s on me.

All right, it wouldn’t be fair to rave about Chick-fil-A without mentioning the downsides. There are exactly two: 1. Closed on Sundays. 2. Waffle-cut fries. While I respect their right to forgo work on the Lord’s day, sometimes I sure would like a sandwich. Or even one lonely nugget. Imagine me staring through the drive-thru window looking sad. And waffle-cut fries are just wrong, any way you slice it.

Also, their lemonade isn’t all that great. Better than Country Time, but just barely. However, they make up for it by having the absolute best soft-serve ice cream. What does it have that other soft-serves lack? In a word: flavor.

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36. Wrangler Jeans: Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Wear Levi’s

7 May

Why do Southern people love Wrangler jeans? No, I’m asking you: why? Ok, I’ll admit to admiring the way they hug the backsides of bull riders. But, honestly, I think any jeans would do. Even Walmart brand, if there is such a thing.

Wranglers are supposed to be tough, the Clint Eastwood of jeans. So maybe folks feel more macho with that lasso-esque label on their butt. Still, this doesn’t explain why women wear them. Then again, maybe it does.

I can’t recall whether or not I’ve ever actually owned a pair of Wranglers. I’m sure my sister would remember. She has an uncanny talent for recalling anything you’d rather forget. I do distinctly remember trying on a pair once. This was at Mildred’s, a sad little clothing outpost not far from where I grew up. I can’t remember anything they sold apart from the aforementioned Wranglers. Underwear? Neckties? Ball gowns? Help me out, Richland people…

I never considered myself the Wrangler type. I mean, I’ve yet to attempt roping a steer. Heck, I haven’t even chased after a greased pig. I think you kind of have to earn Wranglers, in the manner of a Boy/Girl Scout merit badge.

When I was growing up, getting caught in Wranglers knocked you at least two rungs down the social ladder. In my mind, anyway. I didn’t even want folks knowing I occasionally wore Lee’s. (eek! now you do!)

I was all about Chic jeans (pronounced like “small yellow bird,” not “oil baron.”). And Jordache (with requisite comb in the back pocket). And my personal favorite, Gloria Vanderbilts (although my dad claimed he couldn’t afford those fancy Gloria “D.” Vanderbilts. Perhaps because he wasn’t John D. Rockefeller?)

Now that I’ve been an ex-pat Southerner all these years, I kind of think I ought to get myself a pair of Wranglers. Embrace my heritage, you know? But where would I even find a pair? I’m guessing Nordstrom doesn’t carry them.

Do you wear Wranglers? What do you like about them?

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36. Manners AKA Acting Like You’ve Got Some Raisin’

6 Apr

For Southern children, one of the most often heard phrases after “Don’t feed THAT to the dog!” is, of course, “Mind your manners.”

My apologies in advance to Yankee-type folks who might take offense, but Southern people are, in general, far more genteel than y’all. We can’t help it. It’s how we’re raised.

We don’t rant and rave when things don’t go our way. We figure out how to get what we want…subversively.

For example: Say a non-Southern child is denied a cookie. He/she might start hollering and carrying on (although non-Southerners probably wouldn’t call it “hollering” or “carrying on”) saying, “I WANT a COOKIE! I want a cookie NOW!! If you don’t give me a cookie NOW, you will RUE the day, BITCH!”

Ok, now say a Southern child is denied a cookie. He/she might make a pouty face and say, “Oooooooookaaaaaaaay…” Then immediately run to Dad who is distracted by college football and say, “Can I have a cookie? Thanks!” And then sneak back into the kitchen and take a handful.

Naturally, this carries over into adulthood. For Southern women, in particular, not being “nice” ranks among the seven deadly sins right below wearing something tacky.

Don’t misunderstand me, though. Southern women are just as catty (if not more so) as their Northern sisters. They just don’t let anybody know it.

The basic rule is you can say whatever godawful thing you like about somebody as long as you end on a high note.

A Southern conversation might go something like this:

Dixie Girl 1: “Have you seen Wanda lately? She’s growing an extra ass.”

Dixie Girl 2: “What? To keep her three chins company?”

Dixie Girl 3: “And that dress she wore on Sunday? Did she make it out of couch cushions?”

Dixie Girl 1: “Nope. Not enough material.”

All three: “Bwaaaaah Haaaaaah Haaaaah Haaaaaaah!!”

Dixie Girl 2: “She does make really good chicken and dumplings though.”

Dixie Girl 1: “I KNOW! Aren’t they the best?”

Etc.

Hypocritical? Perhaps. Sneaky? Probably.

But, hey, at least we’re polite.

Do you remember to act like you’ve got some raisin’? Why or why not?

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