Grits; We Southerners love them.
We take pride in our Grits too.
You may or may not know what a “Grit” is, so I’ll tell you; It’s ground corn. That’s what I’ve been told, at least.
Any “Old Timer” will tell you that the only thing you need to put in a bowl of Grits is Butter, Salt, and Pepper.
After all, that’s all you’d put on “Corn,” right? I mean, it is ground Corn—so I’m told.
And, any Self-Respecting Southerner would never get caught making “Instant” Grits. If you don’t believe me, just watch “My Cousin Vinny.”—Excellent Movie. I digress.
And when it comes to Grits, I’m no Self-Respecting Southerner. I admit that I use Instant Grits.
And I’m about to shock you even more.
I put Butter and Sugar in my Grits. That’s right.
I said it—Butter and Sugar. I love my Grits that way.
I’ve tried my Grits with just Butter, Salt, and Pepper, and I’m no fan of it.
I do love Butter, Salt, and Pepper on my Corn, though, and I wouldn’t think of putting Sugar on my Corn. It’s kinda weird when you think about it. Grits that is.
I was once in either the “Huddle House” or the “Waffle House,” and I had Grits with whatever meal I had ordered. —Something Breakfast-ee.
I sat at the Bar. That’s where I usually sit since I typically travel alone.
My plate was placed before me, and I began preparing my Grits.
” ‘Scuse me, Sir. Can you pass the Sugar Packets, please?” I asked the man next to me.
He was an Older Gentleman. Maybe in his Eighties.
Thick-bodied with Grey and White hair. He had a Green and Yellow “John Deer” hat on.
His pants were your typical worn-in Blue Jeans. He wore a Long Sleeve Plaid Button-Up Shirt with worn-in Boots on his feet.
I guessed he was a Farmer.
“You ‘Shirtin’ me?” He asked. (He didn’t say “Shirtin’.”)
I grin. “No, Sir. I’m a wimp. I’m not shirtin’ you.”
He passes me the Sugar Packets and says, “I don’t know what this world is comin’ to.”
I laugh and Thank him for passing the Sugar.
I then ask him if he likes his Tea sweet or unsweet.
He tells me he likes it sweet and then adds, “But not my Grits.”
“Fair enough,” I tell him. I didn’t know where I was going with that anyway. I ate my food, and he and I didn’t socialize much once I began eating my Sweetened Grits.
Grits are eaten all over the Southeast.
I’ve heard you can’t even buy Grits in the Western Parts of America.
I’m not sure if you can buy any up North, either.
Down here in the South, boxes of Grits, all different types, take up half the Grocery Store aisle.
We love ’em.
And you know what?
I think Southerners can eat their Grits with Butter and Sugar and still be Self-Respecting.
