She's Her Mother's Daughter!!!

For those of you unfamiliar with the culture and traditions of the South (especially South Carolina), let me be the first to tell you that they are extremely particular when it comes to their traditional foods. There are two staples that South Carolinians cannot live without: sweet tea (so sweet it'll make your teeth hurt) and grits.

Early on in my relationship with Jamie, I broke the cardinal rule of grits (or would it be grit?) consumption. On the way to dinner with two of Jamie's friends, I mentioned that while I always deplored grits as a child, I now quite enjoyed them. They seemed pleased at this proclamation.

I could see Jamie nod in appreciation almost as an affirmation to his friends that his Yankee (only in South Carolina can a Kentucky girl be considered a Yankee) girlfriend wasn't so bad after all.

And then I did the unthinkable--I described the way I like to eat my grits ...with a heap of butter and some sugar. The car became silent. You could hear a pin drop. "You eat sugar on your grits?" PAUSE "Oh no, you NEVER eat sugar on grits. Only a Yankee would ruin grits with sugar."

I didn't point out that I'd watched my Nanny--born and raised in Alabama--eat her grits with butter and sugar on many a morning. "Well how else would you eat them" I asked.

"With butter and cheese or with shrimp and cheese of course." And that was that.

A few weeks later, I decided to try to try to eat grits the "proper" way. I was confident as I ordered the blackened catfish served over goat cheese grits. When my plate arrived, I took the first bite, still confident that my Southern friends wouldn't lead me astray. "How do you like it?" Jamie asked as I tried to smile while swallowing the first bite. It was Awful!! I felt as though I were eating catfish-infused glue. Though I managed to swallow a few more bites, I finally gave up. "I can't eat this. I'm sorry." Jamie looked at me like I was crazy, proceeded to finish my plate, and shook his head in amusement.

Today, I still eat grits, but I eat them my way. At first, I kept my shameful "sugar" grits habit a secret. If we dined out for breakfast, I'd open my sugar packets under the table, quickly sprinkle them on my grits, and stir before anyone could witness my blasphemous behaviour. Now, four years later, I pour mountains of sugar on my grits unabashedly.

Much to Jamie's (playful) displeasure, our Lucy seems to have inherited her mother's "Yankee" taste when it comes to this Southern staple. While at breakfast Saturday morning, I ordered grits. After buttering them, I thought I'd give Lucy a taste before I drowned them in sugar. I could see Jamie's eager anticipation as he watched his little girl perform one of every Southerner's rights of passage--that first taste of grits.

She opened her mouth, took a small taste and immediately her lips contorted. First, she looked at me as if to ask, "What is this wretched substance you've given me?" and then she looked at Jamie as if to ask, "And why on god's green earth did you let her?" Jamie looked at her in disbelief. Could it be possible that his child did not like grits? Surely there could be no worse fate.

I tried again. Perhaps she just needed a minute to get used to this new texture. She opened her little mouth, an innocent, eager little bird. This time, her reaction was much more pronounced. Her lips puckered, her nose wrinkled, and she actually shook her head in a shudder. Yes, die-hard Southerner Jamie's baby girl shuddered at her first taste of grits!

"Man, that breaks my heart," Jamie said crestfallen.

"Oh, relax. I'll put some sugar on them and I'm sure she'll be fine, " I said, stifling a laugh, secretly happy that even though she was born in SC, my little girl is still half "Yankee" at heart.