This is what happens when I don’t eat breakfast. Which actually happens a lot – I write about food.
Now, I’m no food critic. I just eat it. That about sums up my relationship with food. If I like it, I eat more of it. If I don’t like it, I don’t eat it more than three, four times, just to be sure.
Chances are I will eventually come to love all food. You know, your taste buds change, like, what, every seven years? I used to hate Brussels sprouts, but now, no, wait, I still don’t really like Brussels sprouts, but say, grits, for instance. I used to hate grits. Perish the thought! A born southerner who hates grits?
But, it’s true, I did. I don’t now, is my point.
As Aristotle said, A life left unexamined, something, something, something.
I think what he really meant was “eat up.”
So, in honor of him, of all the cooks I’ve known, of the Deep South, of people who eat everywhere, I’m going to offer my Top Five Snacks That Are Essentially What Make Me Southern.
Be prepared to grimace.
- 1. Mayonnaise sandwich, most of the time with a banana
I told you you’d grimace. Every time I make one of these sandwiches, someone has something to say about it. Which, of course, causes me to eat them in silence, in the dark of my kitchen, as if I’m committing a crime. But, you’re the one missing out. Now, I don’t know how or when this delectable comestible came into my life, exactly. It’s been in my family for generations, though, that much I do know. Probably arose out of the Great Depression when families everywhere only had bread, mayonnaise, and bananas. I do recall an episode of Mister Rogers (I like how he always spelled out “mister”) in which he wrapped a piece of cheese around a banana and ate it, thus encouraging me to add cheese to my banana sandwich, which I still do to this day. There’s just something about the combination of sweet and salty that works for me. I would say try it, but I know you won’t. But let’s not get all high and mighty, shall we? As Sipsey so eloquently put it, in Fried Green Tomatoes, “[…] he won’t sit next to no black child, but he’ll eat an egg what done shot out a chicken’s ass.” We all have our “secret foods.” (Fried green tomatoes are also delicious, FYI).
- 2. MoonPies
What can be said about the heavenly treat of a MoonPie that hasn’t already? A lot. But, for the sake of time, I’ll leave most of those words up to you. Because, come on!, you’ve had one, you’ve enjoyed it, you’ve had more than one, I’m sure, and really, once you start, you can’t stop. The wafer, the marshmallow, the flavor, none of it organic, even in the least little bit. It may well have been the first “junk” food, but who cares? Nobody eats a MoonPie for his health. My first MoonPie experience came to me from, no lie, my Uncle Moon. We were in the cornfield, I guess because the corn was ready to be pulled, but I did none of that. I sat on the tail of the truck and did whatever I did back then, count crickets, or whatever, and when he and the others stopped for a break, he pulled out a MoonPie and allowed me to believe he’d created it until I was probably a senior in high school. I miss him. Which just makes me love a MoonPie that much more.
- 3. Fried dill pickles
I doubt you’d be allowed to stay in the south if you didn’t like a fried dill pickle. This is, honestly, one snack that cannot be messed up. It doesn’t matter what you do, they come out tasting divine, time and time again. Fry the whole spear, chop it up, slice it, it’s all going to be ok. Fill up a pot with peanut oil, turn the temperature high, and become a legend in your own kitchen. (But do it because of the pickles, not because you set the place on fire). My great-grandmother, Tigi, (born in 1898), would have a plate of these ready for me, with a tall glass of chocolate milk, every afternoon when I’d return home from kindergarten. I’m not sure how chocolate milk and fried dill pickles came to be the yin-and-yang of my afternoon snack, but then again, she also enjoyed eating sliced tomatoes with orange juice. Fact is, though: she could cook. After she passed, there were dark days, when all I got was nothing, but after the storm passed—she was so loved by so many—her son, U.L., finally picked up the mantle and carried on her tradition. Until I gained too much weight, and then we went back to where I got nothing.
- 4. Cornbread and milk
I can’t count on my hands or yours how many times U.L. and I would sit in the den of his house and eat this. We each had our own special glass for it. Mine was dark green, like a pine needle, and heavy, tempered. We’d get big boy spoons and crawl into our respective seats, the TV turned off, and just eat salty cornbread drowned in milk. Sometimes, he’d mix whole milk and buttermilk, but I never graduated to that level of gastronomy. Some things, I know, are really wrong with the world. Some of those things may never get fixed, but goodness!, a glass of day-old cornbread and fresh milk sure goes a long way in making the world a little bit of a better place. Sweet cornbread, FYI, is a sin, and should not be attempted in your own version of this snack. If you do use sweet cornbread, please do not ever tell me as I would have to never speak to you again.
- 5. Salted peanuts and Dr. Pepper
I will never forget the day that I was almost run down by an irate bull on one of my other uncle’s farms. It has less to do with being chased to near exhaustion by the bull (we called him Charlie, for some reason) than it did by what followed. I was thirsty, naturally. My uncle had watched us aggravate the bull (my cousin was with me), and I think he fairly enjoyed watching us run for our lives. Bulls are very good at running, by the way. We only survived by running in two different directions. When we finally got out of the pasture, my uncle was standing there, Dr. Pepper in hand. I asked for a sip. At first, I thought something was wrong with the Dr. Pepper, as it had chunks in it. No, he said, Those’re peanuts. And they were. Sadly, I no longer enjoy the fuzziness of soft drinks, but I don’t miss them. I miss what you could do to them, like adding peanuts. It’s actually tasty. He let me finish the drink; I gave none to my cousin. He didn’t care, anyway. He was more interested in trying to pee on the electric fence. It would have been wasted on him, as you can see.
Of course, these are only five out of a long, long list of other snacks that I also eat, regularly, and consider perfectly southern. But this is just a blog, not an encyclopedia. Feel free, though, to let me know what your favorite snacks are. I’m prepared to be both jealous and determined to take them away and make them my own.
In the meantime, I’ve got to go find a banana.