I don’t care where you’re from or what you grew up eating if you pretend you can resist the butter- and meat-decked beans and greens, the fried vegetables of every variety, the Cajun spices and meaty, rich soups, the BBQed bits dripping with sauces and love: I’m calling nonsense. And, inevitably, Southern food and, because of that, Southern cookbooks. Coca-Cola and the word “y’all.” Southern literature, especially from Flannery O’Connor and Harper Lee.
But there are also things about the South that I begrudgingly came to love and consider part of my own heritage: the few wisteria days of spring. There were aspects of the South that I never could adjust to-including the heat, but mostly related to the racism. Straight talk, y’all: I lived 20+ years in the South, but they were some internally contentious periods.
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