Grits, Gravy, and Graciousness: Or I've lived in The South for almost a year

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Roasted Cauliflower Soup on Papa's Trunk

This coming December will mark the first anniversary of my living in The South. As if swimming along the coast with a gash in my thigh, the sharks have been circling, demanding my opinion on whether or not I have enjoyed my 365 days of grits, gravy, and graciousness.

After the third inquiry in one week I finally broke down and asked my boss if my demeanor was beyond my comprehension. Perhaps I was unknowingly pea-cocking a unspoken disdain for my surroundings. Giving off a bad vibe. Scaring small children.

Let's face it, my resting bitch face could take home the blue ribbon. I don't give off the most come hither, welcoming vibe. I really do scare small children. 

But that doesn't mean I don't love my new home, The South. 

The Jew in me is mildly uncomfortable with all the Jesus prayers that are made at public gatherings. But I appreciate the community their faith provides. And the height of hair in correlation to ones closeness to God.

The lover of history in me is daily aroused by the story telling that happens in The South. A meal is almost always paired with a story about some eccentric old timer, some misadventure had in youth, or some hotly debated "whose momma made it best" recipe throw down.

I've gone from wondering how many handguns are concealed while I grocery shop, to accepting that there are more pocket book or calf strapped handguns than I could shake a stick at. I trust that Grandma at the deli counter is a better aim than I am.

I will proudly say my blood has in fact thinned. Fifty-five degrees is cold to me. I don't miss having to carry an extra handkerchief just to wipe down my frost covered beard from walking from the house to the car. And you know what? Your blood would thin too. However, I will say, I do very much miss snow. There best be a white Christmukkah when I go North in December.

"Yes, Ma'am", "No, Ma'am", "Sir", "Have a blessed day", "Might could", "Tighter than Dick's hat band", "Fixin' to", "Cussed out", "Blessed out", "Rode hard and put up wet", "Drunk as Cooter Brown", "Y'all", "All Y'all", and "Y'all ain't right" are phrases I understand, use if needed, and hope to carry with me until I die. 

As we slowly enter into this next year, and the period of hibernation that winter brings let it be known I do not regret my choice to move to The South. It may not be my forever home. But its roots have cracked my foundation and will forever be a part of me. Let's see what happens in year two. 

Soup for a Southern Fall Day (highs in the 60's - I'll be wearing a jacket when I go outside)

CREAMY SPICED CAULIFLOWER SOUP

RECIPE FROM Produce on Parade

Serves 6

Slow Cooker Applesauce, (Linda Blair's) Sexy Gold Velour Onesie Culottes, and Scary Movies

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Slow Cooker Applesauce

If you ask me Halloween is good for one thing - the onslaught of scary movies on TV. Thankfully this Halloween season I am blessed with The Cables and had a buffet selection of options this week. 

While enjoying the Linda Blair classic, The Exorcist, last night I was chatting with former Work Wife discussing food. Because what better time to discuss food then when a teenage girl who is possessed starts spinning her head around while projectile vomiting.

Naturally our discussion lead to apples and slow cooker applesauce. 

So today while I sat riveted to my television watching the waste of celluloid, The Exorcist II: The Heretic I let a couple pounds of apples stew away in my slow cooker. As my eyes took a visual assault from Linda Blair's gold velour onesie culottes, I wondered to myself how the hell did the phenomenal Louise Fletcher get sucked into such a horrible film. But then I thought of the things I've done when I was desperate for money and all was forgiven of Ms. Fletcher. 

Happy Halloween!

Slow Cooker Applesauce

IN HONOR OF LINDA BLAIR PUKING ON HERSELF

The Damn Month of Pumpkin: or How Bubbie's Pumpkin Cookies Get Me Home

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Bubbie's Pumpkin Cookies

There is something about the first frost that makes my mind turn to holiday music, dressing in layers and a longing to be back home.

Thankfully the first frost was not where I currently live, but seen on Facebook thanks to an old friend back in Minnesota. The sight of the browned grass, crumbled leaves, and ice, did for a hot second, make me mentally wax poetic of my youthful days growing up in Duluth, MN. October snowstorms, February's burst water mains, April's ice caps that last into June. By the way it's October 18th and I have my air conditioning on in my apartment. Bless The South. 

Duluth is where Winter comes early to the party, eats all your favorite chips, crashes on your sofa, and suggests you make pancakes the next day before overstaying its welcome well into Spring. It is during those winter months that I have painted a memory of foods gone by that led me to the kitchen today. Be it Just J's Dumps, Just Joni's Fudge (recipe yet to be released), or The Matriarch's Sauerkraut and Dumplings, I cannot help but anticipate a long holiday break in a few months. However as it is October, or The Damn Month of Pumpkin as it should now be known, I will for my own mental stability of being a million miles from home make Just Joni's Pumpkin Cookies (now to be known at Bubbies Pumpkin Cookies). The only other acceptable pumpkin flavored food besides pumpkin pie. 

Please note that because I am a high maintenance gay son who cannot leave well enough alone I have altered my own mother's recipe. I will leave it up to you decided which works better for you.

BUBBIE'S PUMPKIN COOKIES

RECIPE BY JUST JONI

(Fried) Sweet Grits, Southern Lessons, and Swearing (or cussing as they say)

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Fried Sweet Grit Cakes

*Updated 08/2020

I'm close to wrapping up 7 years living in The South. Some days it feels as though I have been here for a lifetime and other days I think it was just yesterday that I pulled into town, my single mom small SUV packed to the cloth covered ceiling. 

During a recent phone conversation I was called out by a friend still living up North that I have the occasional 'twang' in my speech. This set in motion a few hours of internal dialogue where I debated whether or not I was disconnecting from my brisk paced, chapped lipped, Northern self. And settling into a life of long winded stories, extended Summers, and sugary sweet back stabbing. 

In the end I started thinking of all the things I have so far taken away from my time south of The Mason Dixon. I have made some wonderful friends. I have met some interesting characters. I have learned there are people out in the world named Peanut, Dickey, and Pickle. Two Pickles to be exact. I have learned that 'Bless Her Heart' is at once the meanest and nicest thing you can say about someone behind their back. I have learned that even though "it tastes wonderful but it's not as good as my mommas" is not an insult, but really a declaration of love to the woman who fed you first. I have learned that when Miss Lillian at the local bar tells you she doesn't appreciate the profanity coming from the adjacent party you make damn sure your friends no longer curse in her establishment. I have learned that “cook out” and “BBQ” are NOT the same thing. I have learned that cussing someone out is very different from blessing someone out. I have learned that racism is alive and well, though most often whispered and set up with an insincere apology before hand. I have learned to confidently order my burgers and hot dogs "all the way", and that sweet tea is best when poured from a giant plastic jug tattooed by a Sharpie indicating it as such. You also don't call the police, you "Call The Law". 

After 7 years I can say with confidence that moving south was like moving to a new country. Though within the confines of the United States of America, The South has a streak of nationalism that runs like a 'sad streak' deep in the heart of an under baked pound cake. It is part of the whole, tastes a little like its surroundings, but not appreciated by everyone. I will proudly confess here and now that I love the 'sad streak' in a pound cake. I like that it is different. And find comfort in knowing that in one slice I can taste the familiarity of a white Christmas and relaxation of the mid summer cook out.

In honor of my slowly expanding Southern Roots here is a recipe for Fried Sweet Grit Cakes.

Fried Sweet Grit Cakes

Inspired by the internets 

Following the directions on the package of instant grits, make your desired number of servings. For a 9x13 size pan that would feed roughly five, I believe, I used the 6 serving instructions on the package. I also added 1/2 cup of sugar to the boiling water (making them sweet grits). Cutting back on the water by roughly 1 cup. 

Once grits are done spread them out in a parchment or wax paper lined 9x13 pan. Cover with plastic wrap and place in refrigerator for at least 45 mins or overnight if desired.

Once grits have set, heat a skillet over medium heat and fill about 1/4" deep with oil for frying. 

After grits are set, cut into desired size (or shape using cookie cutters). I recommend not too small as they may crumble when handled.

Dredge the cut grits in flour, then whisked egg, then again in flour. Frying a few at a time as to not crowd the pan. Turn the grit cakes after a few minutes and removed from the fry oil after desired browning is achieved. Place on paper towel to absorb excess oil. 

Serve warm with maple syrup, powdered sugar, or fruit compote of choice. 

Carrie Bradshaw, Charlie Brown, and (Pumpkin Pound) Cake

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Pumpkin Pound Cake with Whiskey Sauce

Roughly around the time that I was adjusting to the fact that Sex and The City was never coming back to television, Starbucks decided to grace us with the Pumpkin Spice Latte (PSL as it is known by its cult members). Perhaps HBO and Starbucks had a plan figured out. One addiction would be switched out for the other. Sadly or thankfully I was not taken in by the PSL. Instead I continued to feed my Carrie needs by way of cable TV. And I maybe picked up a nasty Chai Latte habit along the way. Only to be switched out by old fashioned drip coffee. Google that one kids. Sometimes coffee comes black and is less than a $1.

Fast forward to 2015 and we as a human race have somehow created a whole new holiday season. It starts roughly around Labor Day and ends sometime when the vats of "pumpkin syrup" run dry near the Winter holidays. Gone are the days of fall being bookended by Charlie Brown's It's The Great Pumpkin and the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. Now my newsfeeds are filled with pictures of filtered white and green cups in lieu of sandal clad feet at the beach. But soon those cups will give way to a lifetimes supply of LL Bean boots traipsing though Winter's worst. 

Don't get me wrong. I love the flavor of pumpkin. But for me it's up there with Thanksgiving side dishes. It's good once or twice a year. 

So here is one of my two 2015 Pumpkin Based Foods - as requested by a friend.

And should Starbucks actually read this please know that you are my preferred Chai Latte maker. May the force of the PSL be ever in your favor. 

Pumpkin Pound Cake with Spiced Glaze

Recipe Adapted from Our State Magazine