It’s a scary thing to see Mississippi in your rear view mirror. It happened to me when our family moved to Michigan. We were transferred there by my husband’s company for a three year stay. We found our new life to be quite a change. My first visit to a grocery store in the North Country was an educational experience within itself. I looked endlessly for grits. The stores were always out of our southern breakfast staple. During one morning shopping trip, I found a stock boy and inquired as to what day he would be re-stocking grits. He gave me a suspicious look. I suppose my accent was showing. He informed me the store didn’t carry grits, but said he could order me a case if I liked. I declined his offer and learned, to my dismay, to adjust to a no-grits breakfast
There’s always a good side to the bad. There were northern foods I had never tasted. Acorn and butternut squash became a favorite with me. A dear friend kept us supplied with rhubarb bread and rhubarb pie. In the back of my mind I wondered if she was trying to make amends for the lack of corn products in her state. She could have easily passed as 'southern' with her kind heart and gentle ways. But you have to feel sorry for someone who doesn’t understand why we boil peanuts, fry cornbread or have catfish farms.
A few years ago, after the passing of our spouses, I was reunited with a dear friend from Michigan. A few months later we were married. To my surprise, I found in his collection of cookbooks, a suspicious book titled, Gone With The Grits. The cover depicts a Clark Gable type character holding “Scarlett” in his arms with a bag of grits in his hand. The entertaining cookbook has such things as Secret Pecan Pie that calls for a cup of warm grits. There’s a Pimento Cheese Grits recipe and a Creole Beans and Grits dish. There’s even Grits Cornbread.
I knew it! Just as I suspected! That grits cookbook in my husband’s pantry told me all I needed to know. Indeed, there are closet grits lovers in the north. I had married the right man! A warm cozy feeling crept over me, assuring me he would be quite comfortable in the south. Flipping through the delightful book, I wondered how long he had enjoyed our southern delicacy.
My husband has adjusted quite well to our southern ways. His family and friends enjoy his stories of a slower paced life. We enjoy peanut boils with friends in the late autumn season and any time of year you will find us looking for the best places to eat catfish. Some mornings we drive to a favorite spot for a late morning breakfast. I orderbacon, eggs and grits. He orders hash browns. But in my heart, I know which he prefers.
