Tag Archives: southern culture

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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38. Toothpicks or When Rednecks Accessorize

16 Jun

At many a Southern eatery, you’ll find a toothpick dispenser next to the cash register. Look for it by the used-to-be-complimentary Andes mints that they now want five cents for. Cheap bastards. But, hey, at least the toothpicks are still free.

I’m not sure how this tradition got started. What am I Wikipedia? But I really wish I could put an end to it. There are few things less appetizing than seeing people pick their teeth in public. Which is why I don’t understand how restaurant owners can recklessly leave toothpicks lying around knowing that the toothpickers will surely be seen by incoming customers.

I’m always tempted to say to the server, “I WAS going to have the filet mignon, but now I’d just like some Sprite and saltines.” But as a former waitress, I try to keep the snarky comments to a minimum. And tip big.

Seriously, people, tooth picking – like nose or belly button picking – ought to be done in private. That’s what bathrooms are for. Ok, that’s not their primary purpose, but still.

What’s maybe even worse than actively plucking food particles is those people who walk around with a toothpick in their mouth ALL THE TIME. Like they never know when they’ll happen upon corn on the cob and must be prepared.

At tote-sum stores in the South, they sell FLAVORED toothpicks for chain toothpickers who presumably aren’t into the natural woody flavor. Cinnamon is popular, but I’m pretty sure I’ve seen mint. Maybe even wint-o-green.

Back in junior high, toothpick chewing was popular for about a week. If I recall correctly, we made our own with cinnamon oil. Where we got the cinnamon oil, I don’t know. That doesn’t seem like something they’d regularly stock at Kroger.

Thankfully, some teacher or concerned parent decided that this was a nasty habit/choking hazard, so toothpicks earned the spot of bubble gum’s wicked step-sister. And I was spared from what might have been months of looking like a hayseed. Whew!

What’s your stance on tooth picking in public?

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36. Wrangler Jeans: Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Wear Levi’s

7 May

Why do Southern people love Wrangler jeans? No, I’m asking you: why? Ok, I’ll admit to admiring the way they hug the backsides of bull riders. But, honestly, I think any jeans would do. Even Walmart brand, if there is such a thing.

Wranglers are supposed to be tough, the Clint Eastwood of jeans. So maybe folks feel more macho with that lasso-esque label on their butt. Still, this doesn’t explain why women wear them. Then again, maybe it does.

I can’t recall whether or not I’ve ever actually owned a pair of Wranglers. I’m sure my sister would remember. She has an uncanny talent for recalling anything you’d rather forget. I do distinctly remember trying on a pair once. This was at Mildred’s, a sad little clothing outpost not far from where I grew up. I can’t remember anything they sold apart from the aforementioned Wranglers. Underwear? Neckties? Ball gowns? Help me out, Richland people…

I never considered myself the Wrangler type. I mean, I’ve yet to attempt roping a steer. Heck, I haven’t even chased after a greased pig. I think you kind of have to earn Wranglers, in the manner of a Boy/Girl Scout merit badge.

When I was growing up, getting caught in Wranglers knocked you at least two rungs down the social ladder. In my mind, anyway. I didn’t even want folks knowing I occasionally wore Lee’s. (eek! now you do!)

I was all about Chic jeans (pronounced like “small yellow bird,” not “oil baron.”). And Jordache (with requisite comb in the back pocket). And my personal favorite, Gloria Vanderbilts (although my dad claimed he couldn’t afford those fancy Gloria “D.” Vanderbilts. Perhaps because he wasn’t John D. Rockefeller?)

Now that I’ve been an ex-pat Southerner all these years, I kind of think I ought to get myself a pair of Wranglers. Embrace my heritage, you know? But where would I even find a pair? I’m guessing Nordstrom doesn’t carry them.

Do you wear Wranglers? What do you like about them?

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36. Manners AKA Acting Like You’ve Got Some Raisin’

6 Apr

For Southern children, one of the most often heard phrases after “Don’t feed THAT to the dog!” is, of course, “Mind your manners.”

My apologies in advance to Yankee-type folks who might take offense, but Southern people are, in general, far more genteel than y’all. We can’t help it. It’s how we’re raised.

We don’t rant and rave when things don’t go our way. We figure out how to get what we want…subversively.

For example: Say a non-Southern child is denied a cookie. He/she might start hollering and carrying on (although non-Southerners probably wouldn’t call it “hollering” or “carrying on”) saying, “I WANT a COOKIE! I want a cookie NOW!! If you don’t give me a cookie NOW, you will RUE the day, BITCH!”

Ok, now say a Southern child is denied a cookie. He/she might make a pouty face and say, “Oooooooookaaaaaaaay…” Then immediately run to Dad who is distracted by college football and say, “Can I have a cookie? Thanks!” And then sneak back into the kitchen and take a handful.

Naturally, this carries over into adulthood. For Southern women, in particular, not being “nice” ranks among the seven deadly sins right below wearing something tacky.

Don’t misunderstand me, though. Southern women are just as catty (if not more so) as their Northern sisters. They just don’t let anybody know it.

The basic rule is you can say whatever godawful thing you like about somebody as long as you end on a high note.

A Southern conversation might go something like this:

Dixie Girl 1: “Have you seen Wanda lately? She’s growing an extra ass.”

Dixie Girl 2: “What? To keep her three chins company?”

Dixie Girl 3: “And that dress she wore on Sunday? Did she make it out of couch cushions?”

Dixie Girl 1: “Nope. Not enough material.”

All three: “Bwaaaaah Haaaaaah Haaaaah Haaaaaaah!!”

Dixie Girl 2: “She does make really good chicken and dumplings though.”

Dixie Girl 1: “I KNOW! Aren’t they the best?”

Etc.

Hypocritical? Perhaps. Sneaky? Probably.

But, hey, at least we’re polite.

Do you remember to act like you’ve got some raisin’? Why or why not?

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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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