The Real South

I laugh myself silly each time I read a magazine article about the "fried chicken craze" that is sweeping New York, which is to say, I laugh myself silly quite often. My favorite is the "bucket list" (i.e. fried chicken to eat before you die) recently published by New York Magazine. If we believe these articles, the south is taking over the country, armed with grandma's cast iron skillets and secret brines.

Now, don't get me wrong. If done right, fried chicken is delicious. Nothing cures a hangover faster than the combination of chicken and melted cheese on a hot biscuit. But it's not true southern cuisine-- it's southern cuisine for the masses. There's a difference--a big one.

I live in Charleston, South Carolina--about as south as you can get before hitting Flor-hio. The only fried chicken served in this town is in the various restaurants featured in "Southern Living"--where tourists line up to pay $12 for what you can make for $2 at home (that is, if you have the aforementioned seasoned skillet) and debate whether it was soaked in buttermilk or a salt brine. I don't blame local restauranteurs for serving it--they're no dummies--there's a HUGE market for it.

I can't tell you how many times visitors ask me--"Do you just love Paula Deen?". The honest answer is "no", although she seems like a perfectly nice lady. The problem is that her shows lead people to believe that southern food is either: (1) fried; or (2) includes a pound of butter. This could not be further from the truth.

Real southern cuisine is regional. I won't dare speak about anywhere but here. Aside from the occasional fried shrimp or oyster, the majority of lowcountry cuisine cooked at home consists of fresh seafood, local meat or wild game, simply prepared, accompanied by seasonal, local vegetables. It is heavily influenced by African and island influences--we like peppers and spices (though not as much as they do in the southwest). And, yes, we do eat a lot of grains--rice and grits are staples. No--we don't sit down on Sunday afternoon to a spread of fried pork chops, mac n' cheese, rice and gravy, and biscuits...per doctors' orders, our grandmas don't eat like this anymore and neither do we.

On a related note, to answer a few questions I have been asked lately: (1) yes, we do have fax machines (and paved roads, for that matter); (2) no, I won't repeat something you ask me to just so that you can giggle about my accent; and (3) yes, people do live in these houses (translation: it is inappropriate to peak into the windows).