Tag Archives: food

24. Crock-pots, the Best Thing Since Boxed Cheese

8 Feb

Why do Southern people love Crock-Pots? Two words: Rotel dip. Sure, this kitchen appliance is handy for making stew, chili, soup, whatever, but for Rotel, well, it’s indispensable. If you’re wondering why, my guess is you’ve never tried cold Rotel dip. Heed these Johnny Cochran-esque words of wisdom: if the Velveeta isn’t hot, step away from the Rotel pot.

Now, if you’re balking at Velveeta, you may want to steer clear of Southern get-togethers on general principle. American cheese (or cheese-like substance) tends to play an active role in everything from Rotel dip to piggies.

Crock-Pots also make a mean batch of barbequed meatballs or lil smokies. Only problem is transporting your Crock-Pot to the party and returning home unscathed or unscalded. Even though Crock-Pots are fairly sturdy, they’re not indestructible, so be careful who you lend your Crock-Pot to.

Case in point: My sister’s husband took her Crock-Pot to work once and failed to return it in one piece (or actually two pieces since it was one of the new-fangled “removable stoneware” types). Of course, he never heard the end of this. Probably still hasn’t. She was nagging him about when he was going to replace her Crock-Pot, and he said was planning to buy her a new one for Christmas.

Now I love Shawn, but have to side with my sister on this one: Wrong answer! Or as they say in the South “That dog won’t hunt.”

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23. Sonic: In-Car Dining at its Finest

8 Feb

I I once had a friend in California who was telling me about this magical, mystical place she was planning to visit with her daughter: “You park your car, and they bring the food out, and you eat in the car.”

Me: “What? Sonic?”

For the uninitiated, perhaps Sonic offers a certain nostalgic charm. Kind of like you’re an extra on the set of “American Graffiti,” without all that god-awful 50s music. But, me, I’ve been going to Sonic since before I’d even heard of “Happy Days,” so the novelty has long since worn off. I mean, they don’t even come out on roller skates anymore. Still, I must admit, it’s hard to visit the South without stopping by Sonic at least once. Although my visits have been far less frequent now that they’ve done away with the Frito Pie.

Truth be told, Sonic’s food isn’t all that special. But the drinks…Hoo boy! First off, all the fountain drinks are served with crushed ice. And not the kind of half-assed crushed ice you get out of a side-by-side refrigerator. Sonic’s ice is about half way to sno-cone consistency.

Next up: flavors. They claim to feature 168,894 possible flavor combinations, but I imagine about 168,794 of them would be pretty nasty (Lemon/chocolate root beer? Orange/grape Dr. Pepper?). Still. They’ve got all manner of limeades, slushes, flavored teas, coffee drinks, and smoothies. Plus, they’ve got a bunch of flavors you can add to soft drinks (known generically as Cokes throughout the South. As in…Q: “What kind of Coke do you want?” A: “Sprite.”). I am partial to Coke with vanilla flavoring, in case you’re wondering what to order for me.

They’ve also got some pretty tasty shakes, although I don’t consider shakes a “drink” so much as a “dessert.” Save room. I’ve yet to try one of their floats or Creamslush® concoctions, but I’m adding that to my list of adventures to have.

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22. Family Reunions (Keeping Up with the Kinfolks)

29 Jan

Since I don’t have family on the West coast, I can’t really determine whether Southerners have more family reunions than other folks. But I’ve yet to see an official family reunion tee shirt in Seattle, so I’m going out on a limb here.

There are only two requirements for a Southern family reunion: 1. family and 2. food. Preferably less of the former and more of the latter. Some families also require alcohol, but you’ve got to be careful: Too little and folks may want to kill each other. Too much and people actually might. See shotguns.

For kids, family reunions can be a lot of fun once you get past all those old folks pinching your cheeks and telling you they haven’t seen you since you were “thiiiiis high.” You get to hang out with cousins who teach you new and better cuss words and adult supervision tends to be at an all-time low: “You kids still breathing? Carry on then…”

For adults, however, family reunions are often approached with a mix of anticipation and dread (the proportion of each often depends on how well one has stayed within her Weight Watchers points). And pity the poor soul who’s volunteered to host the reunion: the whole house has to be scoured/decluttered. Because your family doesn’t stop at peeking in your medicine cabinet; they snoop in closets and under the bed, as well. Note: hide the prescription meds and pricy jewelry.

If you make it through the day without name calling, hurt feelings, or fist fights…If no one storms off in the middle of festivities vowing to never come back… are you sure you’re family? No, seriously. Are you sure?

You may be asking yourself, “If family reunions are that bad, why do people go?” Simple: If you don’t go, they’ll talk about you. None too kindly either. And inevitably, some concerned family member will tell you what all was said. And then there will be hurt feelings/angry proclamations without the benefit of banana pudding and chicken casserole. And that’s just sad.

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19. Frito Pie: Easy, Delicious & Low-Cal (2 out of 3 ain’t Bad)

29 Jan

It’s no secret that Southern folks are fond of casseroles, preferably those involving cream of something soup, but there’s one Southern delicacy y’all yankee types might have missed out on: Frito Pie.

Frito Pie doesn’t have a crust, and you won’t encounter any Cool Whip (one hopes), so I’m not sure how it came to be known as “pie.” (But then my mom’s cranberry “salad” features not one item commonly found in a garden, so I figure Southern recipe names are sort of arbitrary.)

Do not be tricked into accepting a soggy substitute such as “Doritos Casserole” or “Tostitos Stuffing.” Frito Pie can only be made with the crunch-retaining magic of Fritos. I must admit, it was a sad day when I discovered Sonic no longer traffics in Frito Pies. Chili-cheese tater tots will suffice in a pinch, but they lack a certain something. Namely Fritos.

Since you’re unlikely to encounter Frito Pie east of Texas or north of Tennessee, I’ll give you the basic recipe:

Frito Pie

Some chili

A bag of Fritos

Tons of cheese

Put the Fritos in a casserole dish. Top with chili and cheese. Bake at 350 degrees till nice and bubbly.

You could also add ground beef, onions, and jalapenos if you wanted to be extra fancy.

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16. Catfish (The “Deep-Fried” is Implied)

29 Jan

Ok, a lot of these posts feature food (or drink), and I reckon you can guess why: We Southerners loves us some food. Hey, Mississippi didn’t get to be the fattest state in the US for nothing!

So while folks here in Seattle are swooning over salmon, my peeps back home are loyal to the good old-fashioned fried catfish. With hushpuppies (which one of my Seattle friends mistakenly called “puff daddies.” Of course, the name stuck).

Though I now regularly buy organic produce and “hippie eggs,” I’m still of the opinion that farm-raised catfish is the way to go. Sure, maybe wild catfish live happier lives, but they are notorious bottom feeders. For me, eating free-range catfish would be akin to munching on a fried vulture. Ick. As an aside, when I lived in LA, I was extolling the virtues of farm-raised catfish to a work friend who said, “Farm-raised? I thought it was a fish!”

There’s a reason I’m writing this blog, people.

Now if you happen to be in the South and are itching to try some catfish, I recommend Jerry’s in Florence, MS. Not necessarily because it’s the best, but because it may be the one and only place you’ll eat catfish in an igloo. Yes, I said igloo.

Jerry's Fish House, Florence, MS

It’s been a long time since I’ve been there, and I can’t really remember whether the catfish or hushpuppies are anything special. But it’s one of few places where I, an avowed fish hater, will actually eat fish.

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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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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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5. Pecans: Don’t Make Brownies Without Them

17 Sep

First off, let’s discuss pronunciation. The word is “puh-CON,” not “pee-CAN.” Yes, there are a few rogue Southerners (Paula Deen included), who insist on “pee-CAN,” but the rest of us say “puh-CON.” Conversely, nearly everybody above the Mason-Dixon says “pee-CAN,” and I, for one, cringe when I hear it said thusly. (Not quite as bad as hearing Biloxi pronounced “Bee-LOX-ee” but close. Also, for the record, it’s “PRAW-leen” not “PRAY-leen.” Ok, enough with my digression, I could go on all day.)

If a Southerner is baking, you can be sure there’s a heap of pecans somewhere nearby. Brownies? Add pecans. Chocolate chip cookies? Add pecans. Rum cake? Add pecans. (And some extra rum for our Baptist friends.)

How my sister and I both wound up with pecan-hating men, I will never know. (Neither of them is Southern, which might be a clue.) This makes baking an exercise in frustration. Everything has to be half nutty, half not. And when they fail to go through desserts as quickly as we do, we’re left with nutless brownies. I can’t think of anything sadder.

Anytime anybody commenced to baking anything, my beloved late mother would always say, “You have to toast the pecans first.” As if we’d forget. She believed that anyone who didn’t like pecans just hadn’t had them properly toasted. Man, how I wish that were the case.

What’s your favorite pecan-laden treat?

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2. Deep Freezers: Like Closets, But Colder

15 Sep

deep20freezer1

Everybody I know in the South has a deep freeze. Everybody. Care to guess how many deep freezers I’ve seen between here and L.A.? Yep, that would be none.

So why do Southern folks love deep freezers? Frankly, I don’t really know. I could speculate that they need the extra room to store a hunting season’s worth of venison, but more often, they’re packed with Kid’s Cuisines and Costco bags of chicken breasts. Oh, and ice. You can always use an extra bag or two of ice. Never know when the gas station up the road will run out. And then how will you make margaritas?

My sister asked me a few years back why I didn’t have a deep freezer. I believe I was living in a basement apartment at the time, so I figured the answer was obvious. Anyhow, like the Albert Brooks character in “Mother,” I am of the belief that not everything belongs in the freezer, which is why they make it smaller.

Fast forward a few years to the day I noticed our freezer was on the blink. First hint? Soft-serve ice cream. Geoff and I took a field trip to Lowes and Home Depot in search of a replacement. After great debate (well, not exactly Lincoln and Douglas, but still) we settled on a top-freezer Frigidaire with an Energy Star rating. Imagine my surprise when we got it home and I noticed that the freezer compartment was considerably smaller than our previous model. I must admit, I have begun to reconsider my position on deep freezers.

The other day, as I was attempting to wedge a Costco bag of pecans into the freezer door shelf, I made the executive decision to banish Geoff’s square egg maker (don’t ask) and stainless steel pitcher to the countertop. Upon noticing his exiled stuff, Geoff picked up the pitcher and said, “This is the foamer for my espresso machine.”

WHAT?

“You mean,” I say, “The espresso machine that’s been in the basement since we moved in? I’ve been working around this thing for FIVE YEARS?”

Indeed. And he’d been working around it in his old freezer for countless years before that.

So then I proceed to look for more dead weight in the freezer. I hold up one of those cold pack thingies and say, “What about this? Do you use this?”

“That came with the refrigerator,” he says.

I reckon once I finish tossing the useless crap, I won’t need a deep freeze after all.

What all do you keep in your deep freeze? Could you live without it or even want to?

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1. Paula Deen, The Queen of Southern Cuisine

11 Sep

51aDhvNeWLL._SL500_AA280_Paula Deen is kinda like the Martha Stewart of the South. Except that she skips all the crafty-ness and gardening hoo-ha and goes straight to what matters: snacks. Besides which, Paula’s recipes are generally easier to prepare than Martha’s, seeing as how they rely on Southern staples like cream-of-whatever soup and Cool Whip. Oh, and butter. Before you start following Paula’s recipes, you might want to go out and get yourself a cow. Eliminate the middle man.

If you go to any sort of social gathering in the South, you’re likely to encounter at least one or two of Paula’s dishes. Are women hovering over a certain casserole dish with forks in hand making noises that are not usually heard at Baptist potlucks? There’s your clue. Grab the nearest utensil and join in. Knives are handy for clearing a path.

Aside from her concoctions of buttery goodness, I think what folks appreciate about Paula is that she maintains her sense of humor whether she’s accidentally losing her pants in front of a crowd or creating mixer mayhem on Oprah. She’s downright unflappable, y’all!

What’s your favorite Paula Deen recipe? Oh, and how much butter is in your house right now? I keep a minimum of two pounds myself.

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