Tag Archives: humor

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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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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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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20. Tote-Sum Stores (‘Cause We’re All About Convenience)

29 Jan

One day my sister calls me up and says, “Do you know what a tote-sum store is?”

I say, “Duh, it’s like a 7-11.”

“Shawn has never heard of a tote-sum!” She never ceases to be amazed that her husband is neither A. a Southerner or B. a democrat. But I digress…

Upon researching this post, I was surprised to discover that most folks outside of the Jackson, MS, area likely haven’t heard of a tote-sum either. Seems that there was once a small chain of actual “Tote-sum” stores, whose name was so catchy that it quickly became synonymous with any local convenience store.

These days across the South, tote-sum stores are quickly being usurped by big name gas stations that have joined forces with Domino’s, Taco Bell, and the like. So now you can get gas and, um, gas at the same place. But back in the day, you’d find all kinds of food-like substances at the local convenience store: Icees, fried chicken, boiled peanuts, donuts, and the ever-popular “tater logs.”

Sure, maybe the restrooms at those chain places are a little less frightening. Perhaps the shelves are dusted a little more regularly. Maybe the dairy products are rotated a little more frequently, but I still have a soft spot for a good, old-fashioned tote-sum store.

When I was growing up, my sister and I would walk up to Bernie’s where we could get chips, candy, and bottled Cokes just for signing our names on a slip of paper. It was a perilous journey (maybe a mile in the summer heat along a road without sidewalks. Uphill. Both ways.) but that just made the snacks that much more tasty.

Eventually, the credit system was replaced by an actual cash register (or maybe Dad put the kibosh on our too-frequent charges), but still we’d save up quarters and waste countless afternoons playing Ms. Pac Man.

About a year ago, one of those slick new gas/fast food joints popped up about a block from my childhood home. I haven’t been in there, so I can’t say what it’s like. But there aren’t any old men out front playing dominoes, so that’s probably a bad sign.

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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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17. Air Conditioning: Don’t Stay Home in August without It

29 Jan

Folks back home are shocked to hear that I (along with most folks and businesses in Seattle) do not have air conditioning. The horror! The horror!

The thing is, Seattle gets unbearably hot for about two or three days a year, but in many parts of the South, the heat starts up in April and sticks around till October. (One of the reasons I love the state fair so much is that it almost always marks the transition into cooler temperatures. Hence the term “fair weather.”)

I am truly a child of the late 20th century and cannot even fathom how folks in the South could tolerate summers without air conditioning. Wearing hoop skirts and petticoats! Heck, I can’t even fathom how folks today go outside in business suits and/or pantyhose anytime after May. (A good argument for self-employment if I’ve ever heard one.)

Southern folks are not known for moving at a particularly rapid pace, but perhaps you’ve never seen them in the summer. It’s always a mad dash from the comfort of an air-conditioned car to the safety of an air-conditioned house. And by “safety” I mean safety. People die out there in the heat. Or wish they would.

One summer I was at my parents’ house when the air conditioner went on the blink. Within minutes, my mom and I were packed and headed to the family’s cabin on the Pearl River. Normally, I wouldn’t be all that enthused about spending time in the cabin, but that day we couldn’t get there quickly enough.

For the first few hours there, my mom and I lay on the bed underneath the air conditioner reveling in the glory of an icy cool breeze. I only wish I’d known at the time how precious that moment was. I’d be willing to endure any number of summers in the South if my mom were there with me. I’d love to hear her just one more time say, “It’s hotter than HELL!” (pronounced “Hey-You’ll.”)

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