15. Shotguns: For Weddings and Whatnot

12 Jan

While the back window Confederate flag isn’t quite so prevalent these days, it seems that plenty of Southern folks’ pickup trucks are still equipped with gun racks. It’s not often you see a Dixie dweller charged with “carrying a concealed weapon.” In fact, you’ll be informed by bumper sticker which pickups are “protected by Smith & Wesson.”

Why all the shotguns? For one thing, one must be prepared at all times to bag a 10-point buck. And you never know when one will appear in the driveway. This is not hyperbole, people. I’ve seen it happen. Ok, I’ve never actually seen it happen, but I did hear it happen right outside my parent’s house.

While many Southern people enjoy shooting wildlife, many just enjoy shooting in general. Not a Christmas goes by without the men in my family outside trying out their new weaponry. Although I think my dad’s become a bit gun shy since shooting a hole in his dresser years ago.

My most unsettling run in with a shotgun took place when my sister and I were driving to our annual Christmas party. We took a wrong turn in the backwoods and were greeted by two gentlemen packing heat. They asked where we were going and we said, “Uh…Scott’s house?” They said, “Scott Williams?” (This was our first time meeting my friend Karen’s then-boyfriend, now-husband, and we had no idea what his last name was.) We said, “Uh…yeah?” Then they told us which way to go, but never did loosen their grip on said shotguns.

Every Christmas night, we go back to Karen & Scott’s place and are VERY careful not to steer off course. Something tells me those guys don’t believe in second chances.

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14. Cornbread, Baked in Cast Iron the Way God Intended

12 Jan

If you’ve never lived in the South, chances are you’ve never eaten cornbread. Maybe you’ve ordered “cornbread” at a barbeque joint or some Southern-style restaurant, but nine times out of ten, you’ll get something that ought to be called “corncake.”

On line for dinner at a writers conference years ago, I noticed they were serving sweet cornbread. (And, yes, you can tell the difference just by looking at it.) The girl in front of me said, “that’s not cornbread; that’s YANKEE PONE.” And that’s what I’ve called it ever since.

When I was little, my mom made cornbread in a special pan so that it looked like little sticks of corn. Later, she moved on to the simpler cast iron skillet. This made the cornbread easier to butter, but the sticks were just so cute. However, neither of these iterations of cornbread contained a single teaspoon of sugar. And they were both made with self-rising white cornmeal, which I’ve yet to find outside the South.

My mom was never one to use a recipe when it came to making bread-like items, namely biscuits and cornbread. The one time she did follow a recipe – a three page one for my aunt tommie’s croissants – she swore she would never do it again. Her croissants were flat as folks used to think the earth was, but still they tasted pretty good.

I tried watching my mom to see if I could duplicate her recipes, and imagine my surprise upon finding that the secret ingredient to cornbread is bacon grease. (And people wonder why I’m leery of bringing my vegetarian with vegan tendencies boyfriend home with me.) Not only are all the vegetables seasoned with meat, turns out the bread is too.

Over the years, I’ve developed an appreciation for what passes as cornbread around these parts. Especially the mix they sell at Trader Joe’s. Though now that I have publicly declared this, they will probably discontinue the product. Still, no matter how yummy sweet cornbread can be, it just doesn’t go with chicken ‘n dumplings. Which I suppose is irrelevant considering how rarely one stumbles across chicken ‘n dumplings in the Pacific Northwest.

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13. Big Ass Churches (With Comfortable Pews)

12 Jan

My sister lives in Memphis, which features the largest concentration of megachurches in the known world. All the world I’ve known, anyhow. It’s the rodeo-champ style buckle on the Bible Belt.

There’s one that’s got so many bells, whistles, and jumbotrons, my sister’s husband, Shawn, dubbed it “Six Flags Over Jesus.” Of course, after a visit to their church, I figure they ought to be pocketing those stones.

If a church has three or more of the following, you’ll know there’s too much “junk in the trunk:”

1. Parking lot attendants. Bonus points for trams.

2. Nosebleed seats in the sanctuary.

3. Coffee bar.

4. Cupholders.

5. Jumbotron.

6. Basketball court.

7. Ferris wheel.

8. Map.

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12. Pigs–As Food, Not Pets

7 Jan

Oh, Pig, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my fork can reach…

I love thy ribs…thy chops…thy loin…thy, uh, bacon…

Yes, folks, Southern people love pig, but you’re not likely to find anybody sharing his couch with one of those potbelly pets. It would tend to distract from the pleasure of gnawing on a rack of barbequed baby backs.

Oh, sure, we’ll eat a hamburger, and no Southerner is going to turn down fried chicken, but pig is our preferred white meat.

Pulled pork sandwiches. BLTs. Honey Baked hams. Fried pork chops. Sausage gravy. Roasted tenderloin. Canadian bacon pizza. Yeah, we love Babe, but we’d love him better on a plate next to some mac and cheese.

Cut any part off a pig and there is some brave Southerner out there who will eat it: pickled pig’s feet…hog jowls…chitlins (a.k.a. intestines). Dry out the ears and toss them to the dog, then mash up whatever’s left and call it Spam. Oh, I almost forgot: fry up bits of skin and sell it at 7-11. Yes, people, pork rinds are actually pork…rinds.

Hey, do I smell bacon? Gotta run.

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11. Perms: Not Just for the 80’s Anymore

7 Jan

While we’re on the subject of bad hair days, I might as well tackle the topic of perms. There was a time when perms were popular all across the U.S. (I believe it fell somewhere in between Bo Derek cornrows and the “Rachel” do.) Perms have generally fallen out of favor, as such things do. However, Southern women can be loathe to break a tradition, no matter how bad it may be.

I, myself, have never had a perm. Not that I think I’m above following trends. (I wore banana clips just like everybody else.) I just never needed one seeing as I have naturally curly hair. My curls and I have only been on friendly terms for the last two decades (since I discovered that growing them out saves me from being serenaded with the Monchichi song). In retrospect, I am grateful that a stray wavy hair gene saved me copious trips to the hairdresser.

From what I understand, perms are an exercise in masochism. You sit in the stylist’s chair for hours while your hair is rolled onto about 512 curlers then doused in foul-smelling chemicals. I’ve heard you have to leave in the stinky glop for at least a day or so. (At least that was the explanation I was given upon commenting on a friend’s odiferous head.)

Maybe perms have gotten more sophisticated over the years, but people still go in wanting to look like Debra Messing and come out looking like Richard Simmons.

After a lifetime of managing curly hair, I can’t understand why somebody would CHOOSE to deal with frizz. Oh, sure, curls are spunky and whatnot, but I’ve yet to meet a curly-haired person (real or fake) who didn’t suffer from the finger-in-light-socket look from time to time. Which is why I have a fairly large collection of hats. Though you will not find a baseball cap in the bunch.

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10. Baseball Caps: The Southern Man’s Toupee

7 Jan

As a general rule, Southerners greatly prefer football to baseball, so what’s with the proliferation of baseball caps? Heck, Southerners wear baseball caps that promote FOOTBALL teams.

Ok, people, contrary to popular belief, there is no hairstyle that can be improved with the addition of a baseball cap. Especially when you consider that you have to take the cap off at some point, and then you’re left with the dreaded hat head. Y’all know what I’m talking about.

Note to women folks: If you wear a baseball cap when you’re having a bad hair day, you will end up with a much worse hair day tomorrow. Ok, maybe not if you’re one of those folks who washes their hair EVERY day, but who has that kind of time?

Southern guys start off wearing baseball caps in high school, but you’ll see them more and more frequently as hairlines begin receding. It’s a vicious circle: you wear a baseball cap, which causes you to lose hair, so you wear caps more frequently, which causes you to lose more hair. In short, I consider the baseball cap to be the Southern man’s toupee. Which works out well seeing as even the spiffiest rug can’t promote your college football team.

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9. Snuff–Dip, Spit, Repeat

7 Jan

No, not the films. I’m talking tobacco. Snuff (also known as dip or Skoal) is a smokeless tobacco that folks lodge between their lower lip and gums. Its only redeeming factor as far as I can tell is that you can’t die from second-hand snuff. Though you might want to when you see the inside of a guy’s spit cup. Oh yeah, did I mention that snuff causes one to build up excess saliva that has to be frequently expelled? Folks either spit on the ground (hopefully only when outdoors) or into some sort of receptacle. I’ve seen everything from beer cups to coffee cans used for this purpose. Sadly, I’ve never encountered an actual spittoon. I reckon those are for fancy people.

If you grow up in the South, you most likely will at some point date someone who dips. I am loathe to admit that I, myself, did. Though oddly enough, this was long after I’d left the South. In fact, I was in Seattle where I thought I was surely safe from snuff.

Turns out the guy I dated (who was not a smoker) bummed some nicotine gum off a friend one time. He greatly enjoyed the nicotine buzz but was dismayed to discover how pricey the gum was. So he started dipping instead. By the time I met him, he was a hardcore dipper who had built up such a tolerance he was able to swallow the tobacco spit, which is why I didn’t realize he dipped until our third date. Sadly, by that point I was hooked on him. The low point was when he asked me to carry his Skoal in my purse. I became an enabler.

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8. State Fairs–Carnies and All, Y’all!

7 Jan

At the first state fair I attended outside the South, imagine my distress upon ordering a corn dog and being served something that could have come from the grocery store. Listen up fair food vendors, when I order a corn dog, I want y’all to HAND DIP that weenie. And then brush on the mustard for me. Don’t provide a giant jar of off-brand French’s and expect me to coat the thing myself.

Um, where was I? Oh yes, state fairs.

When I was a kid, we could never enjoy the good fair stuff (rides, games, food) without first trekking through the livestock exhibit. Now maybe this would be exciting for a kid from Manhattan or Los Angeles, but by the tender age of five or six, I’d already seen my fair share of cow patties. Still, we had to tromp past all manner of familiar farm animals and their assorted aromas. Whee! I’m still not sure why this was a requirement, unless it was to teach me the lesson that is still ingrained 30 something years later: “You are responsible for where you put your feet.”

I’ve been to all kinds of fairs and festivals in California and Seattle, but I am still partial to the Mississippi State Fair. Perhaps I’m peering through the rosy-hued lenses of nostalgia, but I really do think Southern state fairs are better. Why? In a word: food.

At any fair, you’ll find the same rickety rides operated by dentally challenged carnies. You’ll find the same rip-off games where you’re lucky to win a goldfish that won’t live to see next Tuesday. Livestock is livestock wherever you may be. But the food? Hoo boy, where do I begin?

First, there are the free biscuits. Let me repeat: Free! Biscuits! With cane syrup that’s made on the spot while you watch (that is, if you enjoy watching mules walk in circles for hours, but you’ve gotta do something to pass the time in the long-ass free biscuit line). You’ll find the usual collection of fried stuff on sticks, but in the South it just tastes better. We’ve perfected the art of deep frying. And, yes, it really is an art. There are the aforementioned hand-dipped corn dogs (affectionately known as “Pronto Pups” which sounds a lot better than the “Krusty Pups” you find in Puyallup, WA). If you’re lucky, you’ll happen upon some “skating rink” style pizza. Of course, you’ll encounter all kinds of barbequed delicacies. And you’ll even find Mississippi-style Chinese food. Yum!

What you most likely won’t see are: Gigantic turkey legs, fried Twinkies, or anything made of tofu. Admittedly, I’ve not been to the fair in a while, but I’ve only run across the aforementioned offerings outside the South.

And the highlight of the event? No, not the gorilla woman or two-headed cobra baby. You can’t really find a good freak show these days. The highlight is the State Fair Taffy. Beware. It is highly addictive, and you will never find any other taffy that compares. Lord knows I have tried.

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7. Sweet Tea, in the Biggest Glass You Can Find

1 Dec

A Southern friend was dining with me in Seattle and made the following observation: “If you ask for ‘sweet tea,’ they look at you like you’re retarded, but whenever you order iced tea they bring sugar.” Conversely, if you order “tea” in the South, be prepared to answer this question: “Sweet or unsweet?” (sometimes shortened to “Sweet or un”) Note that “sweet” is always the first option.

So why do Southerners prefer pre-sweetened tea? Duh!

When you add sugar to hot tea, it dissolves. Which means the sugary goodness is evenly dispersed throughout the beverage. When you add sugar to iced tea, you can stir it all day long and never get the stuff melted. This is why Southerners who would normally eschew artificial sweeteners will resort to using them in unsweetened iced tea. It’s the only way to ensure even sweetness throughout.

I should note that if you order tea in the South, expect it to arrive in a tall glass (or mason jar) filled with ice. If you prefer a hot beverage, order coffee.

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6. Hugs, The Handshake of the South

17 Nov

Try a European-style cheek kiss on a Southerner, and you’re liable to get yourself slapped. Much like the word “aloha,” hugs have dual meanings. Hug hello. Hug goodbye. And if you do something nice for a Southerner, they will jump up and “hug your neck.” Don’t worry, they don’t actually hug your neck (which could be confused with, uh, strangling). It’s just an expression.

Now in a business setting, the handshake is standard. Please don’t go hugging clients or potential employers. But if you’re meeting a relative or even a friend-of-a-friend, you may quickly find yourself in a spontaneous embrace. This does not mean they like-like you. Heck, they might not even like you at all. But they will hug you all the same.

If you’re of the frostier, non touchy-feely persuasion, don’t call attention to yourself by trying to avoid the hug. Just close your eyes and think of England. It will be over soon. Of course, you’ll want to slip away from the gathering unnoticed to avoid further friendly fondling. Then again, you might learn to like it.

Are you a hugger? How long do you have to know somebody before a hug seems appropriate?

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