If It's Marked with an "X," You Know You've Made the Wrong Choice

A couple of evenings ago, we had a Savor South staff meeting of sorts. It was held, informally, at Carter Brothers in High Point, N.C.--the place Jason, Michelle and I first came up with the idea that would eventually be this blog. (We'll have to share that story with you someday soon.)

Along with our tasty suppers, we each ordered iced tea. Sweet iced tea for Jason and me, and ... get this ... unsweetened iced tea for Michelle! Of course, this is what Michelle always orders, and Jason and I always like to kid her about it--especially since she's a Southerner!

To differentiate Michelle's ungodly brew from ours, the waitress drew an "X" on Michelle's styrofoam cup. We joked that it was a sure sign of a bad choice.

Anyway, Michelle gave us the full story behind her tea preference. Apparently she loved sweet tea just as much as the rest of us, but felt it was too much sugar to consume all the time. That's a point of view I can agree with. But, Michelle, you gave it up forever?  That's some steely reserve right there.

Sweet Charlotte

When it comes to cooking, I usually don’t get too ambitious. I enjoy cooking the kinds of food I grew up eating—the ones that I, as a child, watched my mother and grandmothers making: soups … stews … casseroles … most anything fried. But lately, I’ve had a hankering to make one of these.

I don’t think I’ve ever come across a charlotte, Russe or otherwise, offered on a menu. They seem to be as scarce as hen’s teeth these days, but according to Southern Food: At Home, On the Road, In History by John Egerton, the charlotte was once considered a standard sweet in Southern kitchens. A recipe for one even appeared in Mary Randolph’s 1824 cookbook, The Virginia House-Wife.

Egerton notes that Randolph’s version was French in origin and more like a fruit cobbler. By the time that disruptive Civil War rolled around, the charlotte, he states, could be found in most Southern recipe collections. “As it evolved in the South,” Egerton notes, “charlotte russe was usually a molded and chilled pudding made with ladyfingers.”

While searching the Internet for the perfect charlotte recipe, I came across this one. Bananas Foster in charlotte form? Sounds mighty tasty to me.

Desserts are not really my specialty. I can make a bread pudding or a pecan pie or pound cake, but a charlotte? Well, I’ll no doubt need to do some planning akin to that of the D-Day invasion.

An Afternoon Snack

When I was in elementary and junior high school, I stayed with one of my two grandmothers each day after school. Being the studious, responsible adolescent I was, I always took care of my homework as soon as I arrived there.

Both my grandmothers watched Guiding Light (which was on from 3-4 p.m.), so whether I was at my Mamaw Lackey’s house or my Mamaw Penry’s, I finished my schoolwork while their “program” was on. Once the soap was over, they turned the television over to me. In my elementary school years, I usually watched Sesame Street, The Electric Company, and Mr. Rogers. In junior high, it was usually reruns of I Love Lucy, The Munsters, The Addams Family, or Bewitched.

But no matter what I watched, my grandmothers always made sure I had a snack. My Mamaw Lackey would sometimes have a fresh bread pudding waiting when I arrived (no raisins on my half!). Sometimes we would make a mayonnaise sandwich with just white bread and mayo. And sometimes she would pop some popcorn (in those days, before microwave popcorn, it was in a covered frying pan with oil), which she would always serve with a glass of tomato juice.

When I have mentioned having popcorn and tomato juice to my North Carolina-native friends, they immediately nod their heads in familiarity. When I’ve mentioned it to people who hail from elsewhere in the country, they offer me a puzzled look. They’ve never heard of such a pairing.

What I loved best about popcorn and tomato juice was the little “sssss” sound the popcorn would make when I dunked a piece into the tomato juice. The combination of flavors—buttery, salty, sweet, tangy—was just perfect. Even to a 7-year-old.

My Mamaw Penry always had a variety of sandwich-makings on hand. I loved (and still do) pimiento cheese. She is the person who first persuaded me to try olive loaf (which eventually led to my ravenous addiction to olives), but it was her grilled cheese sandwiches that stand out strongest in my memory.

I never actually watched her make a grilled cheese sandwich, but the finished product, which she always brought to me on a 1950s yellow-and-gray Harkerware luncheon plate, was creamy, buttery, toasty, and—needless to say—delicious.

I have, in the years since, determined that she must have put a thin layer of mayonnaise (always Duke’s) on the outside, as well as a very thin layer inside, before grilling. I even came across this blog post, which confirms my theory.

Now that I’m practically middle-aged (nearing 40), I sometimes wish I could come home from work, turn on a rerun of The Munsters and sit down to a snack of grilled cheese, popcorn and tomato juice.

Heck, I wouldn’t even mind doing some multiplication tables or reviewing my spelling words first …

Is Mexican Cuisine Considered Southern Food?

Happy Cinco de Mayo, y'all.

Really, the holiday means nothing more here than a chance to overdose on margaritas and chimichangas. But it has me thinking ... Is Mexican food becoming a part of Southern cuisine?

I'd say yes. It has been for a long time, actually. In the decidedly Southern (and Southwestern) state of Texas, Mexican-style cooking merged with local fare to create what we know and love as Tex-Mex. And while Tex-Mex has been around in some form or another for almost a century, the popularity of traditional Mexican food (both authentic and Americanized) has been growing in Southern states where the Mexican populations are also booming--namely, Georgia and the Carolinas.

So, will tortillas one day be considered as Southern as cornbread? I doubt it. Besides, it's not like Mexican restaurants are absent in other regions of the U.S. Still, the idea of Mexican food working its way onto the Southern menu is comida for thought, isn't it?

That's What Easter Means to Tea

I love sweet tea. I drink it almost every day and never grow tired of it. I fantasize about it raining from heaven like liquid manna. I would even bathe in it if that weren't just the silliest waste of it ever. 

(Hmmm ... Maybe if I'm ever a millionaire I'll draw myself a bath of sweet tea. But that's a concern for another day.)

There's a reason why my thoughts are consumed with tea--sweet tea, that is. This is my first week back on the stuff after abstaining from it for Lent. But why would a person voluntarily stop drinking sweet tea, you might ask. Well ... good question. Let me explain. First of all, I'm not Catholic, which means Lent for me does not have a mandatory set of rules regarding red meat on Fridays and free-for-alls on Sundays. (No disrespect intended, Catholics. I think your Fish Fry Fridays are a grand idea and one that Southerners of all faiths can appreciate.)

The way I observe the period of Lent is to make it a time of sacrifice. And as far as sacrifices go, I don't believe letting go of something is really a sacrifice unless it's something you truly love or depend on. Enter sweet tea. 

So, not only did I think sweet tea was an appropriate sacrifice, I also felt it wouldn't hurt my health to go for a while without the constant consumption of a sugary drink. 

This is all making sense, right? No? Well, it did in my head. 

Anyway ... As you know, Easter was last Sunday.  A beautiful holiday for sure, but it also meant that I could drink sweet tea again for the first time in well over a month. Well let me tell you, I've been buzzing on the stuff ever since. Now that I know I can do without it, I should probably learn to cut back and have it on a more limited basis, but not yet ... I'm still in indulgence mode. Let me describe to you what that means. Have you ever seen how a dog behaves after its had a bath? It will run--run like all of its marbles dropped right out of its head, run like it's been freed from the fiery pits of hell. It is a display of frantic joy and insanity, all because the bath is over. Well, I'd say that's pretty close to how I felt when my tea fast ended. In fact, I think I might have jogged a lap or two around the yard after taking that first post-Lent swig of tea. Yippee!

While still heady with tea love, I had another moment of sweet-brewed happiness when I discovered the May issue of Southern Living at the grocery store this week. My Southern heart skipped a beat when I saw that the highlight of the issue was none other than sweet tea! Not only were there recipes for making various kinds of sweet teas and sweet tea punches, there were also food recipes based on the beverage. And believe me, at some point I will be trying the Sweet Tea-Brined Chicken, Sweet Tea Tiramisu, Sweet Tea Vinaigrette and the Mint Julep Sweet Tea.

Not everyone will understand my Passion of the Tea, but I believe some will--mostly Southerners. And if you don't, you can just smile and say "bless your heart." I'll understand.