35. Four-wheelers or How to Drive without a License

6 Apr

Photo by Denise
Flickr Creative Commons

All-terrain vehicles used to be known as three-wheelers till somebody decided an extra wheel would make them safer. What really might make them safer is if folks didn’t drink a few six-packs before taking them out for a spin. Or let their five year olds loose on them. But, hey, as long as they stick to the woods or the yard, fine by me. It’s not like people get killed or even maimed on them. Not that many, anyway. Not anymore.

Apart from the rifle, four-wheelers may be the best thing that ever happened to hunters. No more pre-dawn, miles-long treks to the deer stand. Just hop on your four-wheeler and go. No more dragging your sad-looking deer carcass home by the antlers. Just secure it to your deer rack and zip back in time for, well, Miller Time.

A little known fact about me: I used to have a three-wheeler. An even littler known fact about me: I wrote an extremely persuasive letter to my dad to secure said three-wheeler. (Which included compelling arguments such as “EVERYbody has one!” and “Do you want me to be the only girl in seventh grade without a three-wheeler??”)

Back in the day, I loved racing around the yard on my bright red three wheeler. Tumbling down the hill wasn’t all that much fun, but it beat sitting around watching ice melt. Maybe the best part was riding with my little sister, hitting a bump and sending her bouncing off the back. Ok, I wouldn’t be laughing if she’d really been hurt. Not too much, anyway.

Sure, ATVs have the tendency to tip over and pour the rider out in the manner of a short, stout teapot. They may not have seat belts. And nobody EVER wears a helmet. But they’re way safer than, say, bull riding or sassing your mother.

Do you have a four wheeler? What do you use it for?

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34. Grits: It’s What’s for Breakfast

29 Mar

I cannot remember being introduced to grits. No Southerner can. Grits are just part of our lives, natural as breathing…or bacon. But when people learn that I’m Southern and ask if I eat grits, I can’t help rolling my eyes. On the one hand, duh. But on the other, who cares?

For the record, yes, I eat grits. But they’re really not that big a deal. No Southerner I know likes them half as much as people think we do. If there are grits connoisseurs out there, I’ve never heard of them. I’m tempted to Google and find out. But again, who cares?

College kids might make a meal out of grits when running low on Kraft Macaroni and Cheese or Top Ramen, but for the most part, they’re a side dish. A breakfast side dish at that.

Still, folks are curious about our grit-eating tendencies, so here goes:

1. Nobody eats plain grits. They are quite bland and require much doctoring to become anywhere near palatable.

2. Southerners do not add sugar to grits. I can’t really explain this because Southerners tend to have raging sweet teeth, but some things are just meant to be savory. See cornbread.

3. Cheese grits are made with American cheese. Don’t try to go fancy and use cheddar. It just doesn’t work. If you can’t bring yourself to purchase a hunk of Velveeta, Kraft singles will do in a pinch.

4. Meat isn’t mandatory (surprise!), but I’ve yet to meet a bowl of grits that couldn’t be improved with a healthy sprinkling of bacon or sausage.

5. Instant grits are just wrong. Especially the “flavored” varieties: bacon, ham and cheese, red eye gravy, etc. If you live outside the South, don’t worry, you’ll never encounter “flavored” instant grits, unless you consider “plain” a flavor.

6. If you move away from the South, make sure you have a reliable grits connection. I’ve made some valiant attempts with locally available grits, but was inevitably disappointed.

I introduced Geoff to the sub-standard grits with the caveat that they were sub-standard. He heaped some leftover chili on top of them and pronounced them “not that bad.” Yes, chili. On GRITS. Four (gritless) years later, I’m still dumbfounded.

p.s. Last night I had some cheesy grits off the “New Orleans” menu at Coastal Kitchen here in Seattle and am loathe to admit that they were quite possibly the best grits I’ve ever had. However, my Authentic Southern Food snobbery was vindicated by the fact that A. The grits were served as a DINNER side dish and B. Two portions of their attempt at pig, “Miss Em’s Pork Dinner,” went home in a doggie bag for my friend Karen’s dog.

p.s. #2 Two years later, I’m amending this to say that I have A. found a decent grits supplier in Seattle and B. successfully made grits with cheddar cheese.

What’s your favorite way to enjoy grits?

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33. Sweet Potato Queens Rock the Tiara, Y’all

29 Mar

boss queen jill conner browne

Back in the day, little girls in the South grew up wearing too-short ruffly dresses, just itching to be named “Miss America.” But now that we’re older and ever-so-much wiser, our goals are loftier (and thankfully, our skirts cover our assets. Mostly). We aspire to be Sweet Potato Queens. In fact, so many of us Dixie chicks (and a fair share of Yankees besides) want to be Sweet Potato Queens, the SPQs have a name for us: wannabees. Although, I must admit to going through a wannabee stage earlier in life when I wore ribbons in my messy hair along with lace gloves and copious black jelly bracelets. I would have had a “Boy Toy” belt buckle could one have been located in the tri-state area. Alas. (Amazon now sells them for 15 bucks, in case any of y’all want to look like a tramp…er…virgin.)

Now in case y’all are wondering why so many womenfolks wannabee SPQs, one word: beCAUSE! Let’s start with the outfits, shall we? They are fanDAMNtabulous, from the tips of the tiaras atop curly red wigs to the tassels on their cute majorette boots. Oh, and did I mention the acres of green sequins in between? Also, the outfits are generously padded in the boob and butt areas to conveniently camouflage figure flaws, while appealing to men of every race, creed, and sexual orientation (hello? Sequins!).

I should backtrack to say that the SPQs sprang forth (not unlike Athena from Zeus’ head) from the inaugural run of the now-famous Mal’s St. Paddy’s Day Parade. And while they’ve been adored by natives of Jackson, MS (myself included) for, like, ever, Boss Queen Jill Conner Browne introduced the rest of the world to the majesty of the SPQs with her bestselling book “The Sweet Potato Queens’ Book of Love.” She’s published a whole heap more since and they’re funny as all get out (is that a Southern phrase?), but I recommend starting off with the first seeing as how they build on each other like Lincoln Logs. Sort of.

Anyhoo, I could rattle on for days about why I loves me some SPQs, but y’all ought to hear it from the Boss Queen herself. So get the book where you can learn about “The Promise” guaranteed to get menfolks to do your bidding, why nobody wears panties to a party, and what to eat when tragedy strikes (I HIGHly recommend pig candy and danger pudding). And while you’re at it, check out the SPQs store where you’ll find heaps of queenly stuff ( like your very own tiara, “be particular” t-shirt, and even “Fat Mama’s Knock You Naked Margarita Mix”).

Maybe the best thing about the SPQs (and it’s tough to choose, believe you me) is that they encourage and inspire EVERYbody to be a queen. No, not everybody can be a SPQ and wear the fabulous outfit, but you can be queen of whatever you like and not just for a day, neither.

Since I’m firmly ensconced in the Pacific Northwest, I think I’ll be the Lavender Queen. Or maybe the Tulip or Dahlia Queen. Or, hell, why not all three?

What would you like to be queen of?

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32. Walmart: Save Money. Live Better?

29 Mar

Photo by "el neato"
Flickr Creative Commons

You know you’re Southern if the directions to two or more of your kinfolks’ houses include the phrase “turn right at the Walmart.” Extra points if you’ve ever used the word “kinfolks.”

For Southerners, Walmart (or “Wally World” as it’s known to fans of National Lampoon’s vacation) isn’t just a place to score “everyday low prices” on toilet paper, big screen tvs, or whatnot. Oh no. It’s where folks go to socialize. You never know who might turn up at the local Walmart on a Sunday evening. And if you’re not there to take part in the gossip, well, one guess who the gossiping’s going to be about.

The odd thing about the Walmart social scene (aside from the fact that it takes place in Walmart) is that even though folks know they will run into their friends/enemies/rivals/relations, there’s no pressure to dress up. At all. Curlers in hair? Why not? Mud-encrusted boots? Come on in! Pizza and beer-stained wife beater? Who cares? If you’ve ever been to Walmart, you know I speak the truth. And if you haven’t witnessed these crimes of fashion firsthand, consider this exhibit A through Z: People of Walmart.

Walmart has tried hard to cultivate this whole “Walmart Family” image, but, folks, the store is not actually your house. You might want to change out of your pajamas before running in to get the kids’ OJ and Jimmy Dean Pancakes and Sausage on a Stick.

Photo by Adam Kuban
Flickr Creative Commons

I think Walmart must pipe some kind of crack-like substance into their air filtration system and Southern folks simply cannot “Just Say No.” How else can you explain their need to visit Every Single Day? And not just once a day. I reckon twice a day is about average. Which I admit is pure speculation based on how frequently my dad goes. Hey, I never claimed to be scientific.

I imagine Walmart has become the hub of many a Southern town because…well, hell, because Walmart practically IS a Southern town. You’ve got your optician, your hardware store, your pharmacy, your photo center…groceries, clothes, furniture, housewares, firearms, fishing supplies…restaurants…video rentals…“jewelry.” If the Waltons could figure out how to incorporate a church into the mix, folks would NEVER have to leave. And as a bonus, customers might step it up in the wardrobe department. Nobody wears curlers in the house of the Lord.

How often do you frequent your local Walmart? What’s the most unusual thing you’ve ever encountered there?

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31. Meat-flavored Vegetables for any Occasion

10 Mar

green bean bundles. yum!

Before I took up with a vegetarian, I had no idea how meat-centric Americans are, Southerners in particular. While I’ll never be one to turn down fried chicken in lieu of mashed chickpeas, I do find myself wishing that more restaurants would consider herbivores when menu planning, if only to increase my date-night dining options. There’s only so much Thai food a girl can eat.

And if it’s tough finding veggie choices in Seattle, Lord knows how scarce they are in Mississippi. Last time I checked, the hippie food options at Kroger were 1. Two types of tofu 2. A few cartons of soy milk and 3. Some vegan cheese-like substance. Yum!

Don’t get me wrong, you’ll find plenty of vegetables choices in Southern restaurants (mac and cheese being one of the most popular). But most likely, these veggies are flavored with one of Southern folks’ favorite spices: pig. They will also be so overcooked that they no longer resemble a vegetable in any way, but that’s a whole other story…

Our secret ingredient in baked beans? Bacon. Black-eyed peas? Ham hocks (also known as “pig legs”). Collard greens? Bacon grease. These days, potatoes are mostly fried in vegetable oil, but you never know when the deep fat fryer is full of lard.

Even if a vegetarian successfully dodges the hidden meat in a Southern meal, he’s not home free come dessert time. What’s that lurking in the pie crust, cookies, frosting? Lard. It’s so versatile!

I don’t want to scare y’all into thinking that every food you encounter in the South is fork-deep in pig fat. Much of it is not. Just steer clear of entrees, vegetables, salads, appetizers, and desserts and you should do fine. I’ve never once heard of meat-tainted sweet tea. So drink up!

p.s. If you want to experience the ultimate sweet/salty, meat/vegetable Southern delicacy, make yourself some green bean bundles. This recipe is pretty much the same as mine, though the soy sauce is a new addition. I HIGHly recommend lining your baking dish with tin foil, unless you want pyrex soaking in your sink for a week. And whatever you do, don’t try to healthy up the recipe with turkey bacon, splenda, and light margarine. Unless you want the villagers coming after you with torches.

What’s your favorite meat-flavored vegetable dish?

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30. Biscuits: Our Daily Bread

3 Mar

Let’s settle one thing right up front: if it comes out of a can, it is not a biscuit. Not that there aren’t uses for Hungry Jacks. They’re a key ingredient in monkey bread and will also make a semi-decent Krispy Kreme substitute if you’re desperate, just don’t serve them with butter and jam expecting them to pass.

Some Southern folks have gotten a little lazy about the biscuit making and rely on the frozen Pillsbury variety. One advantage to these is that you can heat up however many you want and never be stuck with cold, leftover biscuits. Although for some reason my dad hasn’t caught on to this idea. He heats up a whole bunch of them at once, butters them, and then leaves them out on the counter. Just in case somebody happens by and wants a biscuit, I reckon.

I really don’t get why folks would want to eat some kind of bland, biscuit-like substitute. How hard is it to make a biscuit? Ok, I will confess that I, myself, had never made a biscuit till last Saturday, but it’s not at all difficult.

As often as I watched my mom making biscuits while I was growing up, you’d think I’d have the recipe embedded in my brain like a Barry Manilow song. Au contraire, mes amis. (Imagine that pronounced with a Southern accent. On second thought: don’t.) My mom didn’t have a recipe. She dumped some flour in a bowl, cut it with Crisco, poured in some buttermilk, mixed it up, dropped the dough on a cookie sheet and put them in the oven. And Voila! Light, fluffy drops of heaven on a plate.

She always swore her biscuits were not as good as her sister Juanita’s, but I wouldn’t know because I never actually tasted one of my aunt’s biscuits while it was hot. My uncle J.P. had a habit of reading a bible passage before breakfast, usually directed toward someone at the table. By the time we got to eat, the o.j. was warm and the biscuits were cold.

All this is to say that I can’t give you my Mom’s biscuit recipe, but I did encounter one that’s almost as good. Since I moved to the Pacific Northwest, I’ve attempted a bunch of scone recipes because that’s what you do here. But last weekend, I figured it was about time to learn to make biscuits. Sorry, scones, it was nice knowing you…

Sour Cream Biscuits
2 cups all-purpose flour
3 ½ teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon sugar
1/2 cup butter
1 cup sour cream

Directions
Heat oven to 450.
Mix flour, baking powder, sugar, and salt.
Cut in butter until small crumbs form. (easier to do this in food processor)
Add sour cream and stir until mixture is moistened.
Mush together with your hands (wash first!) until the dough holds together with no stray flour bits.
Drop onto ungreased baking sheet in biscuit-sized lumps.
Bake 10-12 minutes or until tops are lightly browned.

Slather with butter and jam (or gravy if you like. i don’t.) and eat. Then nap, if necessary.

What’s your favorite biscuit recipe? Can you make them as good as your own mama?

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29. Vacation Bible School (Crafts and Cookies for Christ)

3 Mar

Yes, I realize this sounds like a doxymoron. And yes, I just made that word up. But really there ought to be a word for a double oxymoron, which Vacation Bible School most certainly is: vacation + school, vacation + bible.

Anyhoo, I don’t know if Vacation Bible School (VBS) is strictly a Southern thing, but since I’ve never heard any yankee types pledging allegiance to the Christian flag, I’ll proceed with my assumption.

If you like Kool-Aid, chances are you’ll like Vacation Bible School. And I don’t mean Jim Jones Kool-Aid, I mean “the guy in the giant pitcher costume crashes the party” Kool-Aid. The consumption of Kool-Aid is one of the more popular VBS activities. Right up there with making yarn and popsicle stick “God’s Eyes.” Or learning the hand motions to “Deep and Wide.” (Which, taken out of context, sounds more like adult entertainment.)

I’m pretty sure there was some sort of bible teaching going on, but if so I can’t recall. I will say that I know the names of Jesus’ disciples because I learned them in a song:

“There were twelve disciples
Jesus called to help him
Simon Peter, Andrew,
James, his brother, John,
Phillip, Thomas, Matthew
James the son of Alphaeus,
Somebody, Thaddeus, Judas…(hold the note)
And Bartholomew.”

Apart from the singing and crafting, the only thing I distinctly remember is eating a lot of those butter cookies with the holes in the middle. You may not be familiar with them, as I don’t believe I’ve encountered them outside VBS. The thing to do was poke your finger through the hole and eat around the edge of the cookie. Um, maybe you had to be there…

After a 25-year hiatus from VBS, my sister went back last year. This time as a teacher. MWAH-HA-HA-HA-HA! She called me up all bent out of shape because the class she was teaching turned chaotic right off the bat. Nobody was listening to her and they flat out refused to obey. Not the kids, mind you. The parents. No Kool-Aid and cookies for them.

Any fond (or not so fond) memories of VBS? Please share!

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28. Taxidermy (Dead Animal Decor)

3 Mar

I once had a babysitter who was a taxidermist. Seriously. Ok, probably his wife was my official babysitter, but I did spend a fair amount of time in his workshop watching him preserve local fish and wildlife. I must have been fairly well behaved, else I might be hanging on a wall somewhere myself right about now. Come to think of it, perhaps that’s why I was well behaved.

Why do Southern folks enjoy decorating with dead animals? Beats me. I reckon they want to show off their hunting/fishing prowess and nobody awards gold medals in these particular “sports.” Biathlon comes closest, but no matter how good a shooter s/he is, no Southerner is about to run or ski 15 or 20 kilometers. What Southerner even knows how far that is? (myself included)

As far as I can tell, the most popular wall-mounted creatures are deer (rack size directly proportional to size of hunter’s ego. Yes, that’s a euphemism.), big-mouth bass, ducks, and squirrels. I’ve never seen the mythical jackalope, but they’re supposedly pretty big in Texas. And I’ve heard about folks with stuffed possums, but why? If you’ve driven in the South for any length of time, chances are you’ve killed a possum. It’s not exactly an achievement worth advertising.

When I was growing up, one of my aunts lived in this swank antebellum mansion with pricey antiques everywhere you looked. Still, there were the ubiquitous dead animals. But not just any dead animals. Oh, no. These were fancy dead animals. An elk head. A moose head. And if memory serves, the head of a long-horned sheep. Oh, and a huge bear rug. Which I liked to pretend was a zebra. Politically incorrect from birth, I suppose.

At my parents’ house, there used to be a squirrel mounted on a hunk of tree bark. My mom told me that when I was little I used to freak out anytime I came within a few feet of it. Then one day she walked in when no one was in the room and caught me lovingly petting it. Which may have been how I got the reputation as the “sneaky” one in the family. Right, had nothing to do with my teenage years…

Before you yankee types get all high and mighty about how taxidermy is barbaric and ought not be considered an art form, I should mention that the largest collection of taxidermy I’ve ever encountered was in New York City. New York City?! Yep. It’s called The Museum of Natural History. Probably because east coasters wouldn’t so eagerly flock to the “Museum of Bones and Taxidermy.”

Have you ever personally decorated with dead animals? What’s the strangest stuffed creature you’ve ever encountered?

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27. Boiled Peanuts (Kind of Like Edamame, but Not)

15 Feb

While pecans are the go-to nut for Southern bakers, peanuts have cornered the market when it comes to snacking. And I’m not talking about those roasted peanuts y’all Yankees eat out of the shells at baseball games. Any Southerner knows the best peanuts are boiled peanuts. Yes, I said boiled. Yes, submerged in water and heated up. I know it sounds kind of gross, but you ought to at least try one sometime. They’re softer, saltier, and easier to open than roasted nuts. And more addictive than ABC’s “Lost.”

Stop by any locally owned tote-sum store in the South, and you’re liable to find a few sacks of boiled peanuts by the register. (Perhaps just to the right of the giant jar of pickled pig’s feet.) You can also find them at roadside fruit stands. Just look for the handmade “boiled p-nuts” signs.

Of course, you could always boil your own, but I don’t recommend it, seeing as you need to start off with raw peanuts, which can be more elusive than the pre-boiled variety. Also, you have to boil them a long-ass time. Like seven hours. But, perhaps you could put that Crock-Pot to good use.

Best to know someone who’ll make up a batch for you. Sadly, I no longer do. And even if I did, I would not pass along the information. Selfish? Yes. Stupid? No.

In case you’re not planning a vacation to Dixieland anytime soon, I thought I’d Google up a boiled peanut dealer for you. The Lee Bros Boiled Peanut Catalog looks like a pretty good one. I can’t personally vouch for them, but where else are you going to get an “I brake for boiled peanuts” bumper sticker?

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26. Hee Haw (Hoots, Hollers & Hooters, Oh My!)

15 Feb

If you grew up in the South in the 70s, chances are you have fond memories of watching Hee Haw. Sure, it’s as corny as a can of Green Giant niblets but that’s part of its charm. Besides, where else are you going to see busty, scantily clad women touted as family entertainment? Certainly not Hooters.

Seeing as how Hee Haw debuted long before plastic surgery and Wonder bras, I’m still a little baffled as to how they managed to create such spectacular cleavage. I must admit that as a girl one of my goals (besides becoming a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader) was to grow myself some Hee Haw boobs. Fortunately, the Daisy Dukes and low-cut halter look was out of fashion before I reached adolescence.

If I were to watch Hee Haw today, I’d probably get all self righteous about how Southern people ought not be portrayed as simple-minded buffoons (or should i say donkeys?), but back in the day, I thought all those Dixiefied sketches were a hoot. Maybe even two hoots (i.e. slightly funnier than a hoot and a half).

While music lovers appreciated the “Pickin and Grinnin” combo of Buck Owens and Roy Clark, I was always partial to songs with meaningful lyrics. For example:

Where oh where are you tonight?
Why did you leave me here all alone?
I searched the world over and thought I found true love.
You met another and pfft you were gone.

Sorry, I can’t provide the tune, but just imagine this sung in the twangiest twang since Foghorn Leghorn.

Or how about:

Gloom, despair and agony on me.
Deep, dark depression. Excessive misery.
If it weren’t for bad luck. I’d have no luck at all.
Gloom, despair and agony on me.

Is it any wonder I became a fan of The Smiths?

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