CULTURE SHOCK

Food Memories

Iasked John what I should write about this month, and without even looking up at me, he said, “Food. You always write about food.”

In fact, as I sit here, I’m debating driving 10 minutes up to Good Ole Boys to get some barbecue ribs. That craving was brought on by reading Rick Bragg’s essay about how most places serve crappy coleslaw and the best coleslaw is homemade. If you are lucky, it might be good on day two but never on day three. I read that and really thought about it. I can’t tell you if I have ever eaten a great serving of coleslaw or feel inspired to perfect a great recipe.

In the Deep South, our daily culture revolves around food, and holidays are just victory laps. I have had the great fortune in my life of finding good favor and friendship among chefs and hospitality people. I can say there is no better group of people to be friends with, and I have learned so much from them.

When our friends, Rob and Emily, were working on opening a restaurant, they taught me about the concept of food memories. We all have them tucked into the corners of our minds and hearts. A bite of moist barbecue pork, the smell of onions sautéed in butter, or the delight you experience when you pluck that one Cool Ranch Dorito chip from the bowl that has the most seasoning on it.

Coming off Fourth of July weekend, I find myself sitting here, reflecting on my most fond food memories. There was Meridith Collari’s gourmet shrimp and grits with a smoky special tomato sauce that was better than anything we could have tracked down in New Orleans. We ate our weight in Moe’s Mexican food at my friend Katie’s, provided by a new friend and neighbor who works for Moe’s.

See? Food industry friends. I was sitting on the dock at Bill Kinnebrew’s cabin when out of nowhere, Styrofoam bowls of homemade vanilla ice cream magically appeared. I had not had a bowl of homemade ice cream in a long time, and it was like snow melting in my mouth with a dash of nutmeg. I was transported back to my parents’ back patio and my granddad’s homemade peach ice cream spinning in an old woodbarreled mixer. Later in the weekend, a new food introduction by my friend Mark: Jell-O Grapes. They also appeared out of thin air, looking a little sketchy in their Tupperware service. It was a simple presentation. The cold purple-red grapes lying in green Jell-O with a sprinkling of sugar. It was weird; and yet, it was perfect. Ian Baas handed me an oyster topped with salmon caviar. We were living like kings.

I can also tell you how much I have enjoyed eating cold watermelon standing up at my kitchen island with John this summer. I have quit buying whole ones, because they just get dragged around and never cut. You have probably done that, too. Now, I buy the quartered ones, and the two of us can eat that in one sitting.

Cheers to the old food memories of summer and the new ones you are making. I hope you summer hard and eat so much barbecue and hot dogs that you’ll start dreaming about crockpots of the Rotel dip and football ahead.

I think I will make that drive up to Good Ole Boys ...

Culture Shock Lacey Howell

~ Lacey Howell is a recovering English major from Auburn who now lives on Lake Martin, sells real estate, rides horses and loves good wine. Follow her on Instagram @LaceyHowell and on her Facebook page.