Tag Archives: eating

89. Dinner on the Ground

24 Mar

The first two things you should know about dinner on the ground are: 1. It’s not dinner and 2. It’s not on the ground. Ok, actually, it IS dinner for Southerners, but I didn’t want to confuse folks who think of dinner as an evening meal. In the South, dinner is served once a week (at noon on Sunday) or possibly twice if there’s a holiday involved. All other midday meals are called “lunch” or occasionally “brunch” (for fancy people). The evening feeding event is called “supper.”

During my time as an expat Southerner, I’ve rarely heard the word “supper,” apart from that short-lived “supper club” trend that swept Los Angeles in the late 90s. But I try not to think of that, seeing as my only supper club experience involved stopping Gary Busey outside the bathroom to tell him, “I loved you in Carny!” and “Stay off the motorcycles!!” Yes, there might have been demon liquor involved. But as my mother always reminded me: I don’t have to tell everything I know.

While dinner on the ground may or may not be considered “dinner,” it is definitely NOT on the ground. Unless you are the type of person who doesn’t mind the occasional speck of dirt in your mashed potatoes or grass stains on your Sunday best.

I’m sure my non-Southern readers can’t wait to find out what this mysterious event actually is, so here goes: It’s a potluck meal after church on Sundays. I know, kind of a letdown – unless you actually GO to one.

I’m not sure how the tradition of dinner on the ground got started or how it evolved off the ground and onto folding tables. I suspect it had something to do with the desire to boost church attendance. Even the worst backsliders (and y’all know who you are) will endure a sermon and some hymn singing for an all-you-can-eat smorgasbord of Southern delicacies. For free, no less! (Or at the low, low price of a two-liter Coke or a pack of those crappy dinner rolls parked next to the hot dog buns at Kroger.)


Dinner rolls: Right!

As a general rule – based purely on my personal observations – the farther into the backwoods you go, the better the food’s going to be. I suspect there are some city churches that don’t even do dinner on the ground anymore, which just seems terribly sad.

If you want a true taste of Southern cuisine at its finest, try to finagle an invitation to a dinner on the ground. I’m partial to the Baptists, but I’m sure a Methodist spread might do. You’ll find a funeral food worthy display of casseroles, meat-flavored vegetables, and homemade Dixie sweets – with the added perk that nobody actually died.

In case you ever happen across a dinner on the ground, here are a few helpful pointers:

Whose green bean casserole will reign supreme?

1. Get in line early and often.

2. Do a little reconnaissance: know your options and save room for the best stuff.

3. If you encounter two or more versions of the same casserole, opt for the dish that’s most empty. Don’t hesitate to take the last serving or the person behind you might swoop in and beat you to it.

4. Avoid desserts with tell-tale signs of store boughtness like those dinky tin pie trays or cookies in a plastic tub. I like to make a sampler plate of everything that looks promising. But if there’s something special you want, get it before it’s gone.

5. Aim for the best seating option: a table with chairs. A chair without a table is trickier, but anything beats the last resort – the ground.

6. Don’t start fixing a to-go plate till everybody’s done eating. Wait till folks start retrieving their casserole dishes and then act quickly.

Dessert: YES!!


This may sound counterintuitive considering how fond Southern people are of their food, but nothing makes a cook happier than returning home with an empty dish. And you can be sure folks are keeping tabs on which dishes moved the fastest. Leaving with a dish that’s still ¾ full is like being the last team member picked during P.E. class. But worse because who cares about P.E.?

Before you leave dinner on the ground in search of the nearest surface suitable for napping, make sure you find out who made your favorite dishes, praise them lavishly, and ask for the recipe. Don’t be surprised if you’re swept up in a spontaneous hug. Many Southerners equate food with love, so if you love what they cook, they’re sure to love you back.

What’s your favorite dinner on the ground delicacy?

Photos from Flickr Creative Commons: Green Bean Casserole by littlemaiba, Pecan Pie by leah1201l

74. Texas Toast (A True Wonder Bread)

20 Feb

Fancy Eggs on Texas Toast
Photo by Frank Gruber
Flickr Creative Commons

As the saying goes, “You can always tell a Texan…but you can’t tell him much.”

Certainly, you can’t tell Texans how to improve their toast, seeing as it’s already the best in the country. (Internationally, however, I favor the French.)

I don’t know how long Texans have been making their delicious variety of toast. I first discovered it about 10 years ago when it replaced my parents’ go-to bread, the Pepperidge Farm’s frozen garlic bread loaf.

So how does Texas toast differ from ordinary everyday toast? Well, first off, it’s bigger. But that’s a given, right? Actually the bread is roughly the same size as a regular loaf, but it’s sliced twice as thick. Secondly, it’s higher quality bread. Not the kind you can easily squeeze back into a ball of dough. (Don’t tell me you’ve never done this…) And third – and most important – it’s buttered on both sides. It might actually be fried rather than toasted, but I could be mistaken.

I know of only two places near Seattle where one might acquire Texas Toast: Dairy Queen or the freezer section of some grocery stores.

If you’re willing to put in a little a bit of driving time, I’d opt for Dairy Queen (or DQ as they’re calling themselves these days). The nearest one to me is in Kirkland, which is less than 10 miles from here, but also half a world away, seeing as I have to cross the 520 bridge. But I might consider it, because you can get a chicken strip basket that comes with fries, Texas Toast, AND gravy for dipping.

Notice anything odd about this frozen Texas Toast? Hint: It's not the ready in 4-5 minutes bit.

Texas Toast goes great with everything from spaghetti to BBQ. You could even serve it with chicken fried steak on those days when you don’t want to bother with biscuit making. I’m not sure what all Texans eat their toast with, but it makes a tasty snack all by itself.

I searched for a Texas Toast recipe to share with y’all, but most of them start with buying the frozen slices and doctoring them up with cheese and whatnot.

I think you could make a fair substitute by cutting a loaf of French bread into thick slices, coating both sides with butter, adding some garlic salt or garlic powder, and frying them in a skillet (in the manner of a grilled cheese sandwich).

There might be some kind of secret ingredient I’m missing though. Help me out, Texans!

72. Tea Cakes (Sorry, No Frosting)

18 Feb

Photo by B. Williams
Flickr Creative Commons

My sister has a friend named Shannon, and every time her name comes up in conversation (always in a good way, Shannon!), my dad says, “Ask Shannon when she’s going to bring me those tea cakes.”

I really don’t know when or why Shannon promised to bring my dad tea cakes, but I find it endearing that he’s still holding on to the hope that they will one day be delivered. I would have lost faith decades ago.

What are tea cakes? Well, as I have mentioned, Southerners have a tradition of giving foods names that aren’t even remotely related to their ingredients (salads with no lettuce or nutritional value, casseroles that are actually desserts, etc). Tea cakes are another good example. They are not cakes. They contain no tea.

Caution: Do Not Dip.
Photo by Chad M.
Flickr Creative Commons

“But wait,” you might think. “Perhaps they’re meant to be dunked in tea.” Alas, you would be wrong. No Southerner in his/her right mind is about to dunk any food item into a glass of iced tea.

You might think “What about hot tea?” Oh, no. No, no, no, no. In the South there are only two kinds of tea: sweet or unsweet, both of which are iced.

So what are tea cakes? Most folks would probably call them cookies, seeing as they’re round discs of dough baked on a cookie sheet. But they don’t have the crunchy or chewy texture that’s usually associated with cookies. I guess one could argue that they’re sort of cake-like. More specifically like a sliver of cake that’s been left on the counter to dry out for a few days.

I, myself, think of them as mutated sugar cookies.

I’m doing a terrible job of conveying the deliciousness of tea cakes, but that’s part of my “more for me” tactic.

Apart from Southern bake sales and the occasional lemonade stand, you will probably never happen upon tea cakes for sale. But they’re easy and – dare I say – fun to make at home. If my dad ever gives up on Shannon, I’m sure he could make these himself.

I haven’t made tea cakes in about a hundred years, but I think this recipe from the Bell’s Best Cookbook is the one I usually use, judging by the amount of sugar in the crease. I’ll reproduce it exactly as it appears then add my commentary. It’s on page 328 for those following along at home. The recipe is listed as “Old Fashion Tea Cakes,” not to be confused with “Old Fashioned Tea Cakes,” which precedes it on the page.)

Old Fashion Tea Cakes
2 whole eggs
3/4 cup sugar
2/3 cup of Wesson oil
2 cups self-rising flour
2 tsp. vanilla

Beat eggs with fork; stir in oil and vanilla. Blend in sugar until mixture thickens. Blend in flour and mix well. Put in refrigerator to chill 3 hours. Drop by teaspoonfuls 2 inches apart onto ungreased cookie sheet. Flatten with greased bottom of glass dipped in sugar. Bake at 400 degrees for 8 to 10 minutes. Remove from cookie sheet immediately and place on paper towel. Keep tightly closed in Tupperware to preserve crispness.

Attributed to: Mrs. M.E. (Annie Bell) Sudduth, Jackson – North Council

My notes:
• I don’t think these will self destruct if you choose a different brand of vegetable oil or even replace the oil with butter as I am usually inclined to do.

• If you don’t have self-rising flour, add 1 tsp baking soda and ¼ tsp salt per cup of all-purpose flour.

• I don’t have the patience for chilling dough. A few minutes in the freezer usually works for me. Results may vary.

• I cover the bottom of the glass with butter, but if you like grease, go for it.

• I don’t know why on earth you’d transfer tea cakes to a paper towel. I’d use a cooling rack or, in a pinch, a plate.

• I don’t have any name-brand Tupperware. I use the cheap-ass kind from Ziplock or Glad. They work just fine.

Also, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAD! Wish I were there to bake you some tea cakes!!

Do you have a good tea cake recipe? Please share!

68. Funeral Food: Love in a Casserole Dish

9 Feb

Photo by softestthing
Flickr Creative Commons

Most Southern ladies of a certain age keep at least one casserole in the deep freeze at all times. You never know when somebody will up and die, so it’s best to be prepared. However, if you’re momentarily casserole-less, not to worry: grieving Southerners always welcome fried chicken, even if it’s store-bought. I’d like to put in a plug for one (or more) of those chicken nugget platters from Chick-fil-A (unless somebody dies on Sunday, when all the Chick-fil-As are closed). I’m still grateful to the kind soul who delivered one of those when my mom died.

I should mention that funeral food isn’t actually served at the funeral. You bring it to the home of the deceased, so the grieving family members and the people who drop by to pay their respects have something to eat. When Southerners lose a loved one, they rarely lose their appetite, but almost always lose the desire to cook.

Of course, you needn’t only bring savory sustenance. Sweets are an essential part of a Southern mourner’s diet. And for the love of all that’s holy, do not make funeral sweets with Splenda, people! Grief and dieting go together like…like…ok, they just don’t go together AT ALL.

Photo by Chris and Jenni
Flickr Creative Commons

If you want to bring over some meat-flavored vegetables, that’s great. But a salad probably isn’t your best bet. No, not even a congealed “salad.” Especially if the recently departed had been hospitalized for any length of time before their departure. Nobody wants to be reminded of institutional gelatin, even in the best of times.

In case you’re in a quandary about what to bring, consult this handy guide:

Banana pudding: YES!
Photo by Jason Meredith
Flickr Creative Commons

Great Southern Funeral Food:
Casseroles (anything made with cream of something soup is most welcome)
Fried chicken
Chicken ‘n dumplings
Potatoes (preferably mashed or au gratin)
Homemade mac ‘n cheese
Ham (spiral sliced preferred, but not required)
Chili or hearty soup (Not chicken noodle; no one’s getting better anytime soon…)
Deviled eggs
Deep-fried anything
Homemade sweets of any variety (remember, no Splenda!)

Suitable Southern Funeral Food
Cold cuts and sandwich fixings
Egg/potato/chicken/pasta salad
Store-bought sweets (think Sara Lee, not Little Debbie)
Ice cream

Crudité: NO! P.S. Where's the dip??
Photo by Robyn Lee
Flickr Creative Commons

Ill-advised Southern Funeral Food
Green salad
Crudité platter
Fruit basket
Low-cal frozen entreés
Tofu of any variety
Chewing gum

If you can’t get over to the home of the deceased right away, don’t despair. In fact, I’d recommend avoiding the rush and swinging by with snacks a few days later. Trust me, the bereaved will appreciate a fresh supply of comfort food.

When my mom died, I can’t remember eating much else but cold fried chicken and some kind of cake (caramel, maybe?). But I do remember my relief at not having to think about fixing something to eat.

I don’t know much about funeral customs for non-Southern folks, but I will always be thankful for the ginormous basket of cookies my decidedly non-Southern friend Karen sent over when I got back to Seattle after my mom’s funeral. I reckon everyone knows that while food isn’t a panacea for grief, it does serve as a small island of pleasure in an ocean of pain.

This one goes out to my friend Beth, who just lost her Aunt Sue. Hugs to you…and lots of homemade Dixie delicacies, darling.

What’s your all-time favorite funeral food?

64. Nabs–The Protein Bar of the South

2 Feb

In most Southern households (at least the ones I’ve visited), you’ll find anywhere from two to a dozen packs of nabs, which is what we call any brand of individually wrapped cracker and cheese combos. I don’t know whether people buy them from the grocery store or if fairies deliver them at night, but they’re always there.

Nabs are what you eat when you’re kind of hungry, but not enough to eat an actual meal. Or if you ARE hungry enough to eat an actual meal, but the meal you’re fixin’ to eat isn’t fixed yet. What Southern child hasn’t heard his/her mother say, “Here, have some nabs” or more frequently, “Eat you some nabs”?

Back in the day, I used to like the kind with a cream cheese concoction on captain’s wafers, but peanut butter on cheese crackers would do in a pinch. I used to work with someone who said if you ate the latter variety while drinking a root beer, it tasted like oatmeal. Which begs the question, “Wouldn’t you be better off actually eating oatmeal?”

I hadn’t encountered nabs in years until my nephew Tray came out for a visit with a 12-pack of nabs in tow. He forgot to take them when he left, so they took up residence on the laundry table in the basement for months, till I finally tossed them. In retrospect, I probably should have stashed them in a box labeled “In Case of Apocalypse.” Most likely, they would still be good.

What kind of nabs do you like best?

62. Krispy Kreme–Kalories Be Damned!

31 Jan

Photo by Anne Brink
Flickr Creative Commons

Donut eaters tend to fall into two camps: those who like the cake variety and those who prefer the glazed kind. Guess which ones Southerners tend to prefer. Hint: glazed. And where’s the best place to get a glazed donut? Krispy Kreme.

When I was growing up, the closest Krispy Kreme was on the Gulf Coast, three hours away. I wouldn’t say we traveled there just for the pastries, but if you’ve seen the “beaches” in Gulfport, you’d know we weren’t there to frolic in the non-existent surf. Looking back, I can’t recall why we ever went to the coast. It’s not like we couldn’t get tacky souvenirs and sunburns at home. But I digress.

I can’t remember eating my first Krispy Kreme, but I’m pretty sure the heavens parted and angels sang in chorus. Biting into that melt-in-the-mouth confection of fat, sugar, and dough, I may well have swooned. After that, all other donuts might as well have been rice cakes. Ok, not really. But I sure did love Krispy Kreme.

Photo by Lori Federico
Flickr Creative Commons

The best thing about Krispy Kreme is their neon “Hot Now” sign, when it’s on. Seeing as donuts are typically made long before sunrise, where else am I ever going to get a hot, fresh one? Ok, yes, I could make one myself, if I could ever figure out how to dispose of used cooking oil.

After I left Mississippi, they opened a Krispy Kreme in Jackson, where you can not only get donuts hot and fresh, you can watch them being made. The donuts float along a little river of oil, travel through a waterfall of icing, and ride a conveyor toward a Krispy Kreme worker ready to box them up. If I recall correctly, they’ll even let you pluck your own donut off the conveyor. It’s like a low-rent version of Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. Sadly, no oompa loompas.

Photo by Scott Ableman
Flickr Creative Commons

Fast forward to 1999 when Krispy Kreme infiltrated Hollywood. Everybody on every TV show or movie was eating Krispy Kremes. It was driving me mad because I was living in Seattle with nary a Krispy Kreme in sight. I even went so far as to send an email to KK’s headquarters asking them when they would: A. Build a Krispy Kreme in Seattle or B. Lay off the product placement already. They sent me a courteous reply saying they had no plans to open a franchise in my area anytime soon. ACK!

So I left Seattle (not solely over the Krispy Kreme issue, but it did factor in…). When I came back in 2002, lo and behold there was a Krispy Kreme within driving distance. Hallelujah.

I now live just a few miles from a Krispy Kreme, and while I will occasionally swing by for an original glaze, I have to say my infatuation with them has been steadily eroding over the last few years. I’m now inching closer and closer into cake donut territory.

Sadly, the nearest Top Pot is fifteen minutes away…

What’s your favorite Krispy Kreme variety?

58. Chicken Fried Steak (The Culinary Equivalent of Sweatpants)

17 Jan

Photo by goldbirds, Flickr Creative Commons

What could be better than a tender, fire-kissed slab of steak? Hello! A battered and deep fried slab of steak. Before you start thinking that Southern folks dunk a big ole T-bone into tempura, I should say that the sort of steak that’s chicken fried is actually cube steak. I couldn’t tell you why a pounded-flat piece of beef is called “cube.” I, myself, have learned to live with the mystery.

When dining in the South, you’ll rarely see a chicken fried steak served without its three bffs, mashed potatoes, gravy, and biscuits. However, when it comes to gravy, there are two distinct camps: white gravy folks and brown gravy folks. Both argue that their version is the only “true” Southern gravy. I really don’t see why it matters. I mean, has any Southerner ever turned down gravy of any kind? (Apart from my brother’s dyed-green Christmas gravy, which accompanies his dyed-red mashed potatoes.)

For me, there’s no better comfort food than chicken fried steak. So it’s probably for the best that you can’t really get “authentic” chicken fried steak around these parts. Case in point: One of my friends from Mississippi was passing through town, and we went to the Icon Grill where I’ve enjoyed many a delicious meal. But…Ricky opted for the chicken fried steak. I think I warned him “I do not think that word means what you think it means…” Sure enough, his plate arrived, and we both stared at it going “hmmmm,” not to be confused with “mmmmm.” It didn’t really resemble any CFS I’ve ever encountered, besides which it was served with chow chow. Even if chow chow is supposedly a Southern delicacy, I’ve never actually seen it in person, much less tried it. I should mention that I greatly enjoyed my meatloaf and mashed potatoes.

Photo by the delightful homesicktexan.blogspot.com

Some Southern restaurants serve not only chicken fried steak, but also chicken fried chicken, which sounds like it was named by the department of redundancy department. But no! These are completely different dishes (except that they’re both fried and are also both chicken). Regular fried chicken is served on the bone whereas chicken fried chicken is a boneless breast that’s been pounded flat in the manner of the above-mentioned sirloin. However, I should point out that it’s not called cube chicken. I don’t think it has a name it all, so let’s call it Tweety.

If any of my fellow Southern expats know where to get a good chicken fried steak in Seattle, please let me know. And for all my MS peeps, I’d love to hear about your favorite CFS joint. Caution: if you say that you, yourself, make the best CFS around, I will show up at your place for dinner (aka supper). Not today…not tomorrow…but someday…

56. Waffle House (Kind of Like IHOP without the Pancakes)

15 Jan

Photo by gingher, flickr creative commons

On the ride home from the airport to my dad’s house, I’m always astounded by the number of dining establishments that have cropped up over the years. When I was growing up, you could count the nearby restaurants on one hand (and have fingers left over.) If I recall correctly, there were three: Sonic, the locally owned Chuck Wagon, and Waffle House. For some reason, we never went to Sonic. Perhaps Baptists are offended by girls delivering food wearing roller skates, seeing as roller skating could be a gateway to dancing.

On many a Sunday evening after church, the congregation would re-congregate at the Waffle House. I reckon Baptists are in favor of breakfast for dinner, but who isn’t?

Don’t let the name fool you: the menu at Waffle House isn’t limited to waffles. But in general, my advice is to order whatever food the restaurant’s named after. That’s probably your best chance for a decent entrée. But, hey, you’re a grown up. Order whatever you like. I’m not the boss of you.

The cool thing about Waffle House was that it was the first place I ever encountered a jukebox. To this day, I still get a little goosebumpy when I happen upon a working jukebox. Unless said jukebox is in a 50’s themed establishment, because I have a hate-hate relationship with 50’s music. Hello! I’m nostalgic for the 80’s! Hint, hint, restauranteurs.

Waffle House was an occasional treat as a kid, but when I hit college, I developed a deeper relationship with the place. Two reasons: it was cheap, and it was close by. Also, did I mention it was cheap?

Yep, pretty much how I remember it... Photo by Angela Layana, Flickr Creative Commons

When “dining” at Waffle House, I always enjoyed hearing the ancient waitresses hollering out orders for hashbrowns that were “scattered, smothered and covered.” I’m going to have to look up what that means. Ok, according to the Waffle House site, the options have expanded from the original “scattered” (spread on the grill), “smothered” (with onions) and “covered” (with cheese) to include: “chunked” (with ham), “diced” (with tomatoes), “peppered” (with jalapeño peppers), “capped” (with mushrooms), “topped” (with chili) and “country” (with sausage gravy). You can even order them “all the way” (with all available toppings) though I imagine that would have you running all the way to the bathroom.

I seem to recall ordering chicken fried steak and eggs, but sadly that’s not on their current menu. You can still get t-bone, rib-eye or NY strip, but really, what’s the point of steak if you’re not going to deep fry it? Just kidding. Sort of.

One other distinguishing feature of Waffle House is that they used to offer a slice of pecan pie topped with your choice of A. cheddar cheese or B. a scoop of butter. Do y’all remember that? Or was it a nightmare induced by watching Paula Deen before falling asleep?

A Belated Holiday Post: Deep-Fried Turkey.

13 Jan

by Henry Alva, Flickr Creative Commons

As y’all know, I’m generally in favor of deep fried foods, but you’ve got to draw a line somewhere. I humbly suggest we draw it at turkey.

It would be one thing if you wanted to cut up a Butterball and batter it, but whose idea was it to just drop the whole dang turkey in a vat of boiling oil? What’s the point?

Fried turkey aficionados will tell you that deep frying produces a bird that’s moist and delicious without being greasy. I will tell you that I’ve tasted deep fried turkey alongside oven-baked turkey and the only difference I could discern was the extra hundred or so dollars spent on oil and a turkey-frying contraption.

The upside of deep fried turkey is that it frees up oven space for the requisite sweet potato casserole, dressing (not stuffing: Southerners don’t bother with actually stuffing the poultry), rolls, and green bean casserole. The downside is, well, it’s difficult to enjoy dinner when your house is burning down.

Even I, a card-carrying member of the Safety? Schmafety! Society, must confess to feeling uneasy seeing folks frying turkeys in the garage around a bunch of flammable materials. Cars, for instance. Yeah, folks know you’re supposed to fry turkeys outside, far from kids, pets, and other wildlife. But that’s also far from the kitchen. Besides which, it might be raining.

Despite all the exploding turkey stories you hear, misguided fry masters are STILL dropping half-thawed poultry into boiling oil. I don’t imagine they do it more than once, but to paraphrase P.T. Barnum, there’s a nitwit born every minute. Here’s hoping you aren’t married to one. I was going to say “here’s hoping you aren’t related to one,” but realized the odds for that are very, very slim.

Do you enjoy deep-fried turkey more than the regular variety? What am I missing?

49. Okra (Rhymes with Oprah, Sort of)

3 Nov

Do I even need to specify that I’m talking about fried okra? Ok, then.

If you grew up outside of the South, you’ve likely never encountered this weird little vegetable. It’s a green pod that’s shaped kind of like a jalapeno pepper, but with vertical ridges and pointy end. It tastes like…well, okra. Some people use it in stews or gumbos (at least that’s what crossword clues would lead one to believe), but it has a reputation for being slimy. Which is why everybody else fries it.

by jimmywayne: flickr creative commons

I must admit to feeling a wee bit of Dixie pride when the contestants on “Master Chef” had to identify bizarre produce, and the two Southern chefs named okra right off the bat. Also, a shout out to Whitney, the 22-year-old chef from Mississippi who WON. Way to represent!

The typical okra batter is corn-meal based. Don’t ask me why; I wasn’t at the meeting. Okra is sliced horizontally (tossing both ends), battered and then deep fried. Not just deep fried – deeeeeep fried. Many places serve it almost burnt, which is how we like it.

fried okra by roboppy

Imagine my elation upon discovering a rib joint right next to my friend Linda’s house that has fried okra on the menu. Unfortunately, the pulled pork sandwich only came with one side, and I wasn’t about to pass up hushpuppies in favor of fried okra. (Fried dough vs. fried dough with vegetable? No contest.) An extra side was $2.50, and I also wasn’t about to pay $2.50 for fried okra. I don’t like it THAT much.

I guess I’ll never know what Seattle’s version of fried okra tastes like because the pulled pork at “Rainin Ribs” was standard for the area. And that standard is LOW. Yes, the name “Rainin Ribs” should have tipped me off. Now if they changed the name to “Rainin Men” I might consider a second visit. After all, the hushpuppies weren’t too bad.

What’s your favorite place to get okra, outside your grandmother’s house?

%d bloggers like this: