In Defense of Funeral Food

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Sadly this week a close friend of mine had a death in the family. And as with most passings a string of social events unfolded throughout the week. And as with most social events there came a string of meals. 

I've always stated that I love a good funeral. If the person is truly missed the room is always filled with a palpable sadness mixed with laughter. Community is formed as strangers form a line to pay condolences and are forced to ask the question, “how did you know…?”. Followed by what can usually be described as “okay” food. Usually provided by the army of church ladies always on and ready to serve when duty calls. 

This week of mourning started with an immediate gathering at the home of the deceased. Where he once dined nightly with his family now lay home to a spread of fried chicken, country ham, green beans, potato salad, deviled eggs, coconut cake, pecan pie, and sweet tea. 

The surrounding attendants ranged from former Southern Belles holding grudges, to current Southern Debs still blurry eyed at the loss of a loved one. One person was missing their now departed coach. Another his golf partner. 

After a quick prayer and pass around the buffet stories began to unleash the bittersweet laughter that mixes so well with sadness to yet again create a memory of the person now gone. 

A second gathering happened. Same table. Same Belles. This time in varying shades of purple from eyeliner to hose. When black just won't do, purple reigns supreme. 

Another set of prayers. Another round at the buffet. 

This time cold cuts on silver dollar buns, a new potato salad, a relish tray only of bread and butter pickles, brownies, punch cake, more sweet tea, and homemade pillow mints that dissolved so fast you were elbowing loved ones to get more before they were gone. Aunt June only makes them on very special occasions. And this was one of them. 

This meal was the prelude to the actual funeral. Where even more gathered. I don't believe there was a dry eye in the house. And more than once the room was filled with laughter. The phrase, “let me tell you one more story…”, was quickly forgiven as everyone was hungry to keep the memory alive. 

Afterwards another round of food. This time a time honored Southern buffet of BBQ. I was unable to attend this portion but I imagine it was as heartwarming as the previous few days proved to be. 

One man brought together scores of people to feast again at his home in his absence. His children and grandchildren representing all that was great in him and his wife, whom I imagine he is with now. A great loss, I will confess over the course of three days I was moved by a man I had only met once. 

I will admit in my life I have spent a lot of money to enjoy great meals. But I will put cold cuts on silver dollar buns eaten off of a styrofoam plate while discussing the merits of a good pair of pantyhose with Aunt Ruby high on my list of great meals.

Sausage Balls

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Things I Learned This Week I Living In The South: 

1. There is a transgendered black cat on the other side of town who was born Raj, but after a series of some cat related infections and a quick surgery, now goes by Rajine (rah-gene). 

2. The addition of mayonnaise to mashed potatoes is not as odd as it sounds. And is pretty damn good. 

3. Though no snow is on the ground you can still enjoy a Christmas parade as long as the cinnamon whiskey is flowing, the pom pom winter hat is on head, and a man dressed as a giant piece of toast is wandering the streets.  

This past week I have heard the term 'sausage balls' no less than a dozen times. Apparently the holiday season does not begin until the whole of North Carolina has their hands (and mouths) on some balls.  Naturally I had to get in on this. 

Sausage Balls

RECIPE INSPIRED BY BETTY CROCKER

Roasted Acorn Squash with Fennel Sausage and Apples

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Roasted Acorn Squash with Fennel Sausage and Apples

It's been one of those weeks. 

Things I Learned This Week While Living In The South: 

1. Dusting off talking points from your youth to validate your fear of being persecuted based solely on your sexual preference or religious beliefs and explaining these to your more conservative Southern friends drives one to seek solace in failed fudge that is housed in your 3AM snack box (otherwise known as my refrigerator).  

2. While calmly examining suspicious moles you find a sense of great relief comes over you when you realize that it is not an oddly shaped mole. But it is in fact just a speck of the above mentioned fudge that has somehow managed to secure itself to your abdomen.   

3. There is a soon to be opened amazing burger place in downtown Winston Salem that due to friends of friends you were able secretly hang out in while binge eating nachos, drinking beers, and watching someone across the table act out "crack whore" in a new adult mash up of Pictionary and Charades. 

And because it is Fall and that requires Fall like foods I found myself this morning roasting squash and watching my stories on the tv.  

Roasted Acorn Squash with Fennel Sausage and Apples

Side note: Fennel Sausage was bought at my local grocery store - Lowes Foods. Find the amazing list of sausages available here. I used the No. 2 The Godfather for this recipe. It's a pork sausage seasoned with fennel, anise, salt and pepper. 

Krispy Kreme Bread Pudding

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It's Sunday morning in November. I'm in my underwear watching Hello Dolly on Netflix for the 1000th time since my 8th grade choir teacher gave me my first hit of broadway musical based movies (the gateway drug for so many young gay men), and binge eating a Krispy Kreme Bread Pudding I whipped up because one does not waste a donut. Plus once the donut is used in a capacity other than traditional donut consumption it becomes a legit meal. So eating 10 donuts in one sitting isn't bad because you really just ate a big meal. 

I had a very productive Saturday so this moment of Sunday Self Care doesn't riddle me with guilt. 

Yesterday I found myself traversing the North Carolina country side with two neighbors. First hitting a craft fair that was small at best but large enough the local sheriff had been commissioned to direct traffic in and out of the field turned parking lot. Naturally we ran into someone we know while perusing the monogramed coozies and holiday wreaths made of shell casings. Yes, you heard me. Shell casings. The more you know. 

We then found ourselves attempting to get a meal in a town housing the self proclaimed "World's Largest Chair". Oddly no establishments were taking credit or debit cards. Again you heard me, "establishments", plural. Multiple places were tried. So we move on back to our debit/credit accepting home of Winston-Salem.

WHERE WE HAD OUR TAROT CARDS READ!!!

For two years the neighbors and I have been threatening to get our cards read by the local readers down on main street. And yesterday was the day. 

In the back room of a crystal and incense laden boutique, behind a curtain and on a gold velvet settee we found ourselves listening intently as Cat, our reader de jour, gave insight to our spiritual sides. 

Not shockingly she had to stop mid reading of my cards because my hot mess of a life left conflicting messages within her cards. Thankfully she rallied, composed herself, and sent me on the way with direction for the future. 

Who needs a shrink when you have Cat?

Back to bread pudding and Babs.

Krispy Kreme Bread Pudding

Serves 10-12

FOR MORE SOUTHERN AND BREAKFAST SHENANIGANS CHECK THESE OUT!

SUPPER SLUTS DOES BRUNCH

PUPPY CHOW AND SOUTHERN LIVING

FRIED SWEET GRITS AND CUSSING

Roasted Cauliflower with Texas Pete Whipped Feta

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Roasted Cauliflower with Whipped Feta

Things I Learned This Week Living In The South: 

1. There is a Mennonite woman in Chuckey Tennessee who goes by "Auntie Ruth" and makes a donut the size of my head that could launch the second Trojan War. I drove one hour for one of these donuts and would do it daily if my scale wouldn't judge me. 

2. I found a profound sense of relief knowing that one of my backup hairdressers can handle herself, while 7 months pregnant, on the laser tag field against an army of teenager boys from the local youth group. "Die mutherf*ckers!" was screamed as her hair (as close to God as it can get) didn't move. 

3. Though Beyonce was referencing a baseball bat, I have started to actually carry hot sauce in bag swag. About a year and a half late I have brought Texas Pete into my home. Thankfully they make bottles in all shapes and sizes. So no, I am not happy to see you. That is a bottle of Texas Pete in my pocket. 

Pictured above - roasted cauliflower wedges with a trio of whipped feta. From right to left. Ranch, Texas Pete, and classic with black pepper.