It’s a scary thing to see Mississippi in your rear view mirror. It happened to me when
our family moved to the foreign land of 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
from our southern way of living.
My first visit to a grocery store in the North Country was an educational experience
for sure. 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 hearts 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.
Six 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 favorit
spot for a late morning breakfast. I orderbacon, eggs and grits. He orders hash browns. But in my heart, I know
which he prefers.
