Tag Archives: southern traditions

70. Red Velvet Cake (Accept No Substitutes)

16 Feb

Photo by Sharyn Morrow
Flickr Creative Commons

It might surprise y’all that I’ve EVER met a cake I didn’t like, but it’s true. And before you call me a blasphemer and start extolling the virtues of this traditional Southern delicacy, allow me to explain:

I grew up eating a fair amount of red velvet cake, seeing as it turns up everywhere from church socials to meetings of the Local Heathens Society. (Yes, I just made that up, but it sounds like just the sort of group somebody ought to start.)

Barring the occasional groom’s cake, most red velvets I sampled were homemade, probably using somebody’s grandmother’s hand-me-down recipe. Or in a pinch, consulting the recipe book of the (name of town) First Baptist Church. (Yes, these actually exist. I’ll go into more detail in a future post, so stay tuned.) So for the first 24 years of my life I LOVED red velvet cake. Then I moved to Southern California, and later, Seattle.

I’m here to tell you that there is not one good red velvet cake to be found in either of those places, or anywhere in between. I reckon you probably won’t find decent red velvet cake west of Texas or north of Virginia, but I haven’t conducted scientific research. And don’t intend to.

Yummy? Probably.
Red Velvet? No.
Photo by awhiskandaspoon
Flickr Creative Commons

Some say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting a different result. If so, someone ought to sic the folks with the white jacket on me, because I cannot resist trying red velvet cake whenever I encounter it here. And I am ALWAYS at best disappointed, at worst disgusted. Even when I purchase said cake from bakeries/cupcakeries I know and trust. This means you, Cupcake Royale (disappointed) and Macrina Bakery (disgusted. Couldn’t even finish Macrina’s version. And I have NEVER disposed of a half-eaten cupcake. To be fair, I had never before disposed of any half-eaten Macrina item. They make AWESOME cookies, cakes, breads, pastries, etc. Which is why I was so shocked at the quality, or lack thereof, of their red velvet cake.)

So I used my friend Linda’s Golden Globes/craft-making party as an excuse to attempt my own red velvet cupcakes. I spent a fair (ok, indecent) amount of time comparing recipes, trying to determine what might be wrong about Yankee velvet cake, so that I didn’t end up disappointing myself (or–as Southerners say–myOWNself).

After the cupcakes were baked and cooled and properly frosted, I tasted one. Hallelujah! I now know at least one place to get honest-to-goodness Southern red velvet cake in Seattle.

My ought-to-be-patented
recipe filing system

I used this recipe for the cake (But used 3 tablespoons of cocoa instead of the chintzy 1 teaspoon the recipe calls for. Actually, I probably used close to 4 T, adding a bit at a time till the batter tasted right.)

I frosted the cupcakes with:

Cream Cheese Frosting

8 oz. cream cheese (softened)
1 stick butter (softened)
2 tsp vanilla extract
2 cups powdered sugar
¼ t salt

Directions: Use the mixing appliance of your choice to cream butter and cream cheese with powdered sugar. (On low at first so you don’t sugar coat the entire kitchen). When sugar is incorporated, switch mixer into high gear. If you are mixing by hand, stop. Go to your nearest mart store and pick up a hand mixer, already.

Add vanilla and beat until the frosting reaches your ideal spreading consistency. If too dry, add a splash of milk. If too wet, add more powdered sugar.

Finally, add salt and beat some more. (See why I told you to get yourself a mixer?) I add additional salt a pinch at a time till the frosting loses that hurt-your-teeth-sweet quality.

Frost and enjoy! Save the beaters and near-empty bowl for someone you love who loves to lick the frosting. You love yourself, right?

Sadly, I didn’t photograph my pretty, delicious cupcakes, as I was running late (shocker!). I guess I’ll have to bake them again…

Everyone enjoyed the cupcakes, and I was most impressed when my friend Julie (who’s from Texas and presumably knows red velvet cake) went for seconds.

Epilogue:
I was picking up a sandwich the other night and noticed a fetching-looking red velvet cake (complete with Valentine’s themed heart on top). I’m happy to report that I was not lured in. Maybe I’m learning from my mistakes, after all.

Also, if you’d like a more in depth analysis on RVC, check out the taste test conducted by The Bake More blogger.

Do you have a go-to recipe for red velvet cake? Or know of a good place to buy a tasty premade one?

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69. Gone with the Wind (Frankly, We Give a Damn)

15 Feb

Do Southerners prefer the book or the movie? Yes. We prefer both the book AND the movie to most of the nonsense that passes for entertainment these days. I mean, would you rather witness the catty shenanigans of the True Housewives of Atlanta or ogle Clark Gable? No contest.

I must admit that I hadn’t read Mitchell’s masterpiece until four years ago. Who has time to read a 1,000 page novel? Someone with sciatic nerve pain who’s essentially couch-ridden for a month, that’s who. While I would never choose to be immobilized, it was a great excuse for catching up on my reading. (Alas, I was still unable to make it through Wuthering Heights and Anna Karenina.)

At first glance, Gone with the Wind doesn’t seem like something I’d want to read at all. War + Romance + Melodrama = Gag. But from the first page, I was hooked. Why? Mitchell employs the Dickensian cliff-hanger better than Chuck himself. Sleep? I don’t need no stinkin’ sleep. I need to know WHAT HAPPENED NEXT! (This is the very reason I watched the first five seasons of “Lost” in about a week. And, no, I don’t consider myself obsessive. Thanks for asking.)

Doggone with the Wind
Photo by Carol Vinzant
Flickr Creative Commons

Mitchell populated her novel with cast of deeply flawed characters: Scarlett, the self-centered, calculating belle. Rhett, the unapologetic rogue. Ashley, who is hopelessly wishy-washy. And, yes, even dear, sweet Melanie, who is far too nice for her own good. Some might argue that “wishy-washy” and “too nice” aren’t character flaws. But they would be wrong.

I fear this post is heading into research paper territory, and since I’m not being graded (or paid), I’m jumping off the train before that happens. If you want to know more, you can find a copy of GWTW at your nearest library, book store, or possibly garage sale.

While some of the old ways of the South are not exactly “gone with the wind,” I know of at least two that are:

1. The notion that proper ladies shouldn’t be seen eating in public, which leads to…

2. You’re unlikely to encounter any Southerner with a 17-inch waist. Except maybe a toddler.

Do you prefer the book or the movie? Ashley or Rhett? What’s your favorite Southern novel?

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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
BBQ
Lasagna
Potatoes (preferably mashed or au gratin)
Homemade mac ‘n cheese
Bread
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?

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66. (Not to be confused with 666): Deviled Eggs

4 Feb

Photo by Debbie R
Flickr Creative Commons

One day when my sister and I were in an antique store, she picked up a deviled egg plate and said, “Since I’m Southern, I probably should have one of these.” Alas, neither of us purchased one. Fast forward 20 years: I spot a nice glass deviled egg plate at Goodwill for $5. But did I buy it? Oh, no, I did not. Then a couple of weeks later I run across that SAME glass deviled egg plate at an antique store and they wanted $50 for it.

Right now you are probably thinking that I spend far too much time rooting through people’s old stuff. And I haven’t even mentioned my new estate sale obsession…But I digress…

I never actually tried a deviled egg until I was well into my thirties. I grew up Southern Baptist, for whom eating Satanic snack food is a sin almost on par with dancing. Ok, I made that up. Baptists eat heaps of deviled eggs (especially around Easter). But the sinful dancing part is true, in case y’all missed “Footloose.”

Why are these eggs brown around the edges? Because they're actually cookies! Photo by distopiandreamgirl
Flickr Creative Commons

I’ve kind of always had an aversion to yolks, and the only way I would eat eggs was scrambled until… My fellow Southern expats, Chad (Tennessee) and Leah (Georgia) had a brunch one Easter and there was (of course) a tray of deviled eggs. People seemed to be enjoying them immensely, and I started to feel left out – actually, the “left out” feeling began when the conversation turned to triathlons. Anyhow, I tried one. And another. And another. “Deviled eggs!” I thought. “Where have you been all my life?” Deviled eggs: “Duh! Only every gathering you’ve ever been to in the South.”

I was an immediate convert, an evangelist even. I probably went through a whole carton of deviled eggs before the novelty wore off or the cholesterol shot up. These days, I don’t make them at home much, but am always delighted to happen upon them out in the wild.

So far, I haven’t found any that tasted as heavenly as Leah’s. But I’ve used Paula Deen’s recipe, which is a pretty good approximation.

Now if only I could find a suitable deviled egg plate on which to serve them…

Paula Deen’s Traditional Southern Deviled Eggs

Ingredients
7 large eggs, hard boiled and peeled
¼ cup mayonnaise
1 ½ TBSP pickle relish (Paula specifies sweet; I prefer dill.)
1 tsp yellow mustard (French’s style, not fancy pants Gray Poupon)
Salt and pepper to taste
Paprika, sweet gherkin, or pimentos for garnishing (optional)

Directions
Halve 7 eggs lengthwise. Remove yolks and place in a small bowl.
Mash yolks with a fork and stir in mayonnaise, pickle relish, and mustard. Add salt and pepper, to taste.
Fill egg whites evenly with yolk mixture. Garnish with paprika, pickles and pimentos. Store covered in refrigerator.

Do you have a favorite deviled egg recipe? Please share!

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65. Crochet–Getting Crafty, Granny Style

3 Feb

Photo by Poppy
Flickr Creative Commons

You can’t throw a sugar packet in a Seattle coffee shop without A. Hitting a knitting group or B. Being chastised for mishandling some of our Earth’s precious resources (sugar, paper). Knitting has gotten quite trendy here in the last decade, thanks mostly – I think – to the catchy moniker “Stitch ‘n Bitch.”

Well, y’all, Southern ladies have been stitchin’ ‘n bitchin’ for centuries. Where do you think all your grandmother’s doilies and afghans came from? Walmart? I think not!

Before I get much further, I must confess that I have never knitted, nor crocheted, and I don’t exactly know how to differentiate between the two. As near as I can figure, knitting is for useful items (sweaters, socks, etc.), crocheting is mostly for decorations.

When I was growing up, crocheting was at an all time high. In the 70s, there wasn’t anything that couldn’t be prettied up with a bit of crochet. Is that an extra roll of toilet paper? No! It’s a lovely doll with a crochet “skirt.” Is that your blender? Goodness, no! Apparently an adorable chicken wandered in and took up residence on the counter. Is your broom wearing a skirt? Don’t be silly. That’s Twiggy. You know, the model? She lives here now. In our closet.

I don’t know where the obsession for turning everyday things into art projects came from. Possibly the same handbook that taught folks how to make the ubiquitous Barbie doll bake sale cake. (Don’t tell me you haven’t seen one.)

I, myself, got caught up in the crochet/knitting craze back in the early 00’s when ponchos were all the rage (remember that exhilarating five minutes?). I hooked up with someone on ebay who knitted custom ponchos (and matching hats!), and went a little overboard, buying poncho/hat combos for my mom and sister and three for myself. It was almost like having a grandmother. Though I don’t imagine most grandmothers are compensated through Pay Pal.

During the height of my own crochet frenzy, I sprang for some beautiful (and none too cheap) Alpaca yarn at the Puyallup fair. It’s around here catching dust somewhere, probably still hoping that it will spontaneously become a scarf one day. Alas.

Over the years, I’ve toyed with the idea of picking up needles and learning how to knit one, purl two. And maybe I will one of these days. Just don’t expect to see me showing up to stitch ‘n bitch night anytime soon. However, if the stitchin’ is optional, count me in!

Do you crochet? If so, could you make me one of those fancy TP covers so I can deck my bathroom out in retro style?

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60. Groom’s Cakes (Even the Ones in Poor Taste Still Taste Good)

20 Jan

Bee-u-ti-ful groom's cake
by maggie valley club

I just recently found out that groom’s cakes are a Southern thing. Here’s how it happened:

Me: What kind of groom’s cake are y’all having?

Bride, groom and everybody at the engagement party table: Huh?

What? People get married without a groom’s cake? Seriously? The bride gets the venue she wants, the flowers she wants, the music she wants, the photographer (and the 18 million pictures) she wants, the wedding cake she wants, and so on, and the groom can’t even get a lousy chocolate sheet cake?

C’mon people!

Supposedly, in the tradition’s early days, the groom’s cake wasn’t eaten at the wedding. Slices were packaged and sent home with single girls who would put them under their pillows to induce dreams of their future husbands. Right. Like a Southern single lady with post-wedding blues is going to let a perfectly good slice of cake go to waste? Never gonna happen.

These days, the cakes are tailored toward the grooms tastes and/or interests. I’ve never actually witnessed first hand a cake shaped like a Lazy Boy recliner, TV remote, or bottle of Jack Daniels, but surely they exist. As far as flavors go, well, they don’t go far: nearly every groom’s cake I’ve encountered was chocolate.

Steel Magnolias: The movie that launched
a thousand red velvet armadillos

“Steel Magnolias” features the beat-all, end-all groom’s cake: an armadillo-shaped confection featuring a red velvet interior. Yum!

I think the groom’s cake is an excellent addition to any wedding reception (but then my motto is “the more cake, the merrier”). However, clearly, not all grooms ought to have free reign at the bakery, as evidenced by the ill-conceived collection posted on cakewrecks.com.

Did you have a groom’s cake at your wedding? What kind?

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57. Western Wear (Boots, Bolos, and Beyond)

16 Jan

The Holloway ladies: rocking the Urban Cowboy look.

I am a sucker for a man in a western shirt. Although, I must admit that I prefer a guy who wears said shirt ironically. He’s a few steps beyond the “all hat and no cattle” types. More like “no hat, no cattle.”

During the blessedly short-lived Urban Cowboy phase, I had it all: hat, western shirt, Wranglers, belt, boots. Only thing missing was a lasso and possibly some spurs. Today, if you checked my closet – once you got past the stampede of dust bunnies, store receipts, and discarded tags – you’d find one imitation western shirt, three cowboy hats (two pink, one purple) and four pairs of cowboy boots (if you count Frye harness boots, which I do).

Dior "cowboy" boots,
a bargain at $1032!

As most Southerners know, a little western wear goes a long way. Boots and Wranglers? Yes. Just don’t go adding the hat, bolo tie, gi-normous belt buckle and fancy embroidered shirt unless you’re actually participating in a rodeo or perhaps a strip club act. And ladies, please refrain from wearing shirts declaring your status as “rodeo queen” in rhinestones. That’s just tacky on a number of levels.

If you plan to sport western wear, try not to look like you just walked out of the dressing room of your local Cowboys R Us. At least one or two of your items needs to appear lived in (and not in that pre-distressed Old Navy sort of way). If you don’t have time to wear in (or out) your gear, try shopping at Goodwill.

This probably goes without saying (but when has that ever stopped me?): don’t go around sporting designer cowboy duds like a diamond-encrusted bolo tie or these Christian Dior “cowboy” boots. That’s a good way to get yourself mugged or worse…mocked.

Do you regularly sport western wear? What’s your favorite accessory?

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54. Yard Dogs, Not Pampered Pocket Pets

12 Jan

by Madame Meow, Flickr Creative Commons

When I was growing up, dogs were allowed in the house only: A. During inclement weather which involved either below-freezing temperatures or tornado warnings and B. When they were giving birth. That’s it. For roughly 358 days a year, the dogs stayed in the yard. Not necessarily in the fenced-in area of the yard, but still: In The Yard.

I’m not going to say that all Southern folks ban their canines from the house. For the last seven years or so, even my dad has let dogs have the run of the place. Actually, most of what I have to say about Southerners and dogs no longer pertains to my dad. His little dog “Happy” has managed to earn the status of favorite child. Probably because he’s never wrecked a car or asked for money.

But many Southerners treat dogs like…well, dogs. Whereas folks here in Seattle tend to treat dogs like family. Better actually. It’s not like you’re going to catch someone carrying a plastic baggie of their brother’s poop.

Here are a few cultural differences: Southern people generally don’t take dogs on vacation. They don’t take dogs shopping. They don’t take dogs to restaurants. And I’d venture to guess many Southerners have never even heard of doggie day care.

If you attend an outdoor festival in the South, you’ll see plenty of debris on the ground: beer cups, food wrappers, cigarette butts, caramel apple cores, what have you. What you won’t find is dog poop. The dog poop stays where it belongs: in the yard. With the dog.

Me & the world's best dog... RIP Wink.

Ok, I admit, I enjoy walking through a festival without stepping around (or worse, IN) other people’s garbage. And I do appreciate that folks here generally clean up after their pets in public. But couldn’t I just once go from one booth to the next without tripping over a leash? Does your dog really like craft items/concerts/the smell of patchouli that much? Wouldn’t it rather be at home chewing your shoes?

Once I went to a huge indoor antique show whose promoters felt the need to mention that “dogs are no longer allowed inside the Showplex.” I don’t know what disturbed me more: that they once WERE or that some people snuck them in anyway.

I don’t want to come off as an evil dog hater. I actually like most dogs, in the same way that I like most children: when they are at home and well behaved.

What do y’all think? Should a dog be something folks don’t leave home without?

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51. College Football–Win, Lose or Drawl

4 Nov

By Roger Smith: Flickr Creative Commons

Sure, Southern folks were elated when the Saints won the Superbowl this year, as evidenced by the number of times the phrase “Who Dat?” appeared on my Facebook page the next day. But generally, Southern folks are way more passionate about college football, as if it were Angelina Jolie and the NFL were, say, Aunt Bee.

Almost everybody has a favorite team. Forget the “Beatles or Rolling Stones?” icebreaker. Get conversation flowing for hours with a simple “Ole Miss or State?” I use the term “conversation” loosely, of course.

An allegiance to a college football team isn’t tied to where one graduated. It starts way earlier than that. Often, in the womb. You’re an Ole Miss fan because your daddy is an Ole Miss fan. Your daddy’s an Ole Miss fan because his daddy was, and so on.

my nephew, jackson, was a tiny tiger's fan


Apparently, he's switched teams.

It may be blasphemy to confess that I couldn’t care less about college football (or any other kind, except “Friday Night Lights.” “Clear eyes. Full hearts. Can’t lose!”) However, I must admit that this wasn’t always the case. Back in third grade, I was a diehard MS State fan, if only for fashion/romantic reasons. See, there was this jacket. Lots of kids in my class had them, including the boy I liked. Who was, of course, the boy EVERYbody liked. It was a silky, maroon, letterman-style jacket with “Mississippi State” silkscreened in white on the back. I just HAD to have one. Be careful what you wish for – or what you ask your parents for.

The jacket I wound up with was a burgundy (even then I knew the difference) windbreaker with the words “Mississippi State” in white iron-on letters on the back. Or was it “Miss. State”? Oh, well. I still wore the jacket to school with all the pride I could muster. Till fourth grade came around, and I moved on to another boy – and, hopefully, more attractive outerwear.

Why is college football so popular in the South? Is it just the tailgating or what?

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50. Drive-thru Beer Barns–Libations for Lazy Folks

4 Nov

What? You thought burgers, tacos and donuts had the drive-thru market cornered? Oh no. They can’t compete with kegs, cigarettes and wine coolers. Not in the South anyway.

I can’t say how the drive-thru beer barn got started, but I suspect it was the brainchild of someone whose six-year-old flat out refused to go into the tote-sum for momma’s Marlboro Lights. See, if I was making a list of Stuff Southern People DON’T Like, number four would be “Getting Out of the Car” (or more likely, the truck).

A beer barn isn’t necessarily in an actual barn, but “beer building” just doesn’t sound festive at all. The cool thing about beer barns is that minors are allowed in. Craving a bag of pork rinds and a coke? Need a pack of gum? M & Ms? Just drive on through!

You might think the idea of a drive-thru alcohol purveyor is counterintuitive. Wouldn’t this promote drinking and driving? That’s like saying drive-thru restaurants promote eating and driving. Who wants to eat in the car when there’s a big screen TV and a coffee table waiting at home?

I reckon beer barns might have been outlawed by some zealous Baptists, seeing as the one on Lakeland Drive was closed eons ago. Now, that, my friends is counterintuitive, seeing as Baptists are the ideal demographic for the drive-thru beer barn: no chance of being spotted in public toting a six-pack of Bud.

When I was in high school, Mississippi changed the drinking age to 21, but Louisiana had yet to jump on the bandwagon. Folks would drive across the river at Vicksburg to this place called Daiquiri World where you could get a ginormous Styrofoam cup of daiquiri TO GO. There might have even been a drive thru. And what’s better than a drive through beer barn? A drive-thru LIQUOR joint.

Beats the heck out of the drive-thru espresso stands that multiply faster than rabbits – or Starbucks – around here.

Ever been to a beer barn? Do they still exist?

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