My favorite niece (I'm calling her that in order to get the other favorite nieces' attention) recently posted the fact that she was in South Carolina eating shrimp and grits. And here I thought she was a very sophisticated, cultured and intelligent person. Guess I was wrong if she's actually admitting to eating Grits!
Now, I've done time ('scuse me, spent time) in the South and I know they love their grits. The thing is...I can't abide them. I've eaten wall paper paste with more flavor. Which might explain why I never, ever felt at home in the South. The rest of my family thinks of it as their home, but the Southern inoculation never took on me. I am unrepentantly a Yankee. I fully expect to be struck off a few Facebook pages because of this statement. Whenever a die-hard Southerner hears me say that I hate grits, they assure me I just haven't had them prepared properly. (gag)
Because aside from the flavorless, colorless blah gritty texture (at least they are aptly named), it's the preparation that puts me off. Grits, for the uninformed, are made from hominy. And hominy is made from corn kernels that have been soaked like 52 years in lye. You heard me. Lye.
The same stuff which is poisonous when ingested. The same stuff that you don't dare handle with bare hands, on account of it eats your skin off. You know, LYE.
And since grits are so colorless and flavorless, all the cooking shows are adding flavor and color like crazy in order to make the crap palatable. Evidently grits are the new sushi...I've discussed at length in a prior blog how I feel about raw fish. The hoity-toity chefs, proving that they are all about slumming it these days, prepare grits a hundred different ways. They add tons of butter, they add milk (gives all that grit at least some creaminess, purportedly), they add shrimp, they add peppers, they add cheese. A waste of good cheese and shrimp if you ask me.
If a food has so little flavor that it requires Herculean efforts to give it taste, why not take some shrimp and cheese and peppers and just make a dish out of that? Why ruin good food with grits?
The South is all about claiming grits as their staple food. Georgia (as in the State of) has declared grits to be their "state prepared food". (Don't get me started on states, including mine, having a State this and State that and State the other. Not content with just a State flower, they have State amphibians and insects and autumn trees and spring trees and dogs and microbe.)
Trouble is, the Native Americans were the first to manufacture the stuff and it was their dish, not the South's. Yet another contribution Native Americans have given European culture that goes unacknowledged.
So, while I know I will offend quite a few of my Southern friends and family with this unmasking of the unholy origin of grits, maybe there are others out there, like me, who can't stand the stuff and have been too embarrassed or shy or polite to say so. Never let it be said that I was too polite to say I hate grits. I say we start a support group.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Ritual
Just attended my second family wedding of the year and I have to say, my family knows how to do this ritual right.
Having said that, I was sitting in the beautiful San Antonio Botanical Gardens, trying not to cry (I always cry at weddings, but at family weddings, it's a torrent). The words to "Sunrise, Sunset" float through my mind along with my own little slide show of these grown women as babies, as kids, as teens. Where do the years go?
So, in order to distract myself, I try to think of other things. On Sunday, I pondered where we get some of our most cherished wedding rituals. I mean, who's the genius who thought of seating the bride's friends and family on the same side that the bride stands so they can't see her face? Ditto for the groom's family and friends.
And why flowers? Flowers are practically a sacred object for me, since my church is nature, but who was the first couple to jazz up their local parish church with flowers. (In the case of churches in general, I think they add a great deal. I mean, most churches are more of the somber and awe-some and awe-full architecture and decor, so they really need some joyful elements.) But why is that? Shouldn't our churches be as full of light and joy as a botanical garden?
I have to say that the flowers on Sunday were brilliant! A single large trough-shaped vase with the same flowers spilling onto and weaving into the grass. As I said, brilliant!
And I certainly understand the origin of gift ritual (taken from the days when a couple setting up their own houshold). Similar to the old-fashioned "pounding", it was a way for a community to support the youngsters, who no doubt didn't have a spoon or a kettle to their names. Nowadays, with so many people delaying marriage until they are older and already having a household set up, one needs to be more creative than the toasters and fondue pots of my generation. I hope I was creative with the picnic basket for two, a reminder that romance belongs in marriage more perhaps than it belongs in courtship.
More brides are foregoing the veil and the promise to obey, which in my mind is all to the better. The veil in particular seems to suggest those long-ago days when brides were purchased and the groom didn't get to see her face until well into the ceremony, when it was too late to back out. Remember Jacob marrying the wrong sister in the Bible...he had to work 7 more years to purchase the chick he was really in love with.
And as for the obey pledge...I always wondered why the brides were required to pledge obedience when the grooms weren't. I mean, don't successful modern marriages compromise on stuff?
And don't get me started on the pledge to "remain faithful"! Just heard the statistic that 75% of the American people see nothing wrong with an extramarital affair, as long as they don't get caught.
Candles at this particular wedding were out, which made sense since there was a pretty stiff breeze the whole evening. (Although I know there would have been a fight at our table over who got to sit closest to the candle for the heat it might produce!)
A new (to me, anyway) tradition was born with mani/pedis for the wedding party women and they included aunts, sisters and cousins. I know it wasn't the real cause for our gathering, but to me it was the most significant. Three generations of women, all together after burying our matriarch in February, all sharing moments.
I brought out our grandmother's rosary and missal, offering it to my niece's soon-to-be husband for their vows in the Catholic church in a few weeks. Sweet tears. Stories of their growing up. Sweet laughter. My funny niece keeping us in stitches. Raucus laughter. The rhythm, ebb and flow of remembering, choosing a nail color, being pampered, and sharing it with women I'd be proud to know, even if they weren't my blood. Let's hear it for new rituals!
I'm still a little iffy about the ritual of "giving away" the bride by the parents. Once again, it smacks of bride price. But it survives, perhaps, because it signifies the family's acceptance of the groom. I just wish they'd give the groom away too! That would make it more equitable.
A relatively new ritual is the officiant's admonition to the congregation and getting them to pledge their support of this marriage that is beginning this day. This is good ritual.
I remember one of my co-workers a while ago, who was embroiled in the planning for a "pull out all the stops" wedding. He asked for my advice and strangely, some actual words of wisdom popped out of my mouth (didn't know I was that smart!). Without thinking, I blurted out, "Just make sure you spend at least as much time planning your marriage as you have spent planning your wedding."
Brilliant, if I do say so myself. Because, despite the comfort of ritual and the community's acceptance of the new family begun, that's the crux of why we gather to celebrate. We hope that, despite all the pressures to the contrary, this union will be one that lasts.
I envy my two sisters who have been married for forty plus years. Our parents were married for 60 plus years, literally "till death did them part." But I'm hopeful every time I attend a wedding. I used to not attend if I didn't think the marriage would last, after attending an abyssmal wedding years ago where a full 3/4 of the congregation knew it wouldn't last. It lasted all of 8 months.
But now, having grown older and wiser, I attend every wedding I'm invited to that I can arrange to attend. Because the ritual is more important than I ever realized. (And also because I've occasionally been wrong about how long a particular marriage might last. Mea culpa.)
The very last part of the wedding is what put me over the edge, crying-wise. Because, you see, we have a ritual in our family. Mother's favorite piece of music EVER was Debussy's Claire de Lune. She had Uncle Bill (a masterful musician) play it every time we got together. Uncle Bill played at our weddings. Uncle Bill played it at our parents' funerals. So Claire de Lune was the last piece of music played at Leah's and Sara's weddings. Sob City. I didn't cry delicately into a lace handkerchief. I soddened at least three tissues.
But it was comforting too. Like the session at the spa, it cemented our family and assured me, at any rate, that despite now being the oldest generation in my family, ritual will go on. Our parents' deaths were sad, but not the end of our history, our rituals. Ritual is still important.
One of my rituals is baking bread and making soup on the first cold day of the Fall season. I feel some soup coming on.
Having said that, I was sitting in the beautiful San Antonio Botanical Gardens, trying not to cry (I always cry at weddings, but at family weddings, it's a torrent). The words to "Sunrise, Sunset" float through my mind along with my own little slide show of these grown women as babies, as kids, as teens. Where do the years go?
So, in order to distract myself, I try to think of other things. On Sunday, I pondered where we get some of our most cherished wedding rituals. I mean, who's the genius who thought of seating the bride's friends and family on the same side that the bride stands so they can't see her face? Ditto for the groom's family and friends.
And why flowers? Flowers are practically a sacred object for me, since my church is nature, but who was the first couple to jazz up their local parish church with flowers. (In the case of churches in general, I think they add a great deal. I mean, most churches are more of the somber and awe-some and awe-full architecture and decor, so they really need some joyful elements.) But why is that? Shouldn't our churches be as full of light and joy as a botanical garden?
And I certainly understand the origin of gift ritual (taken from the days when a couple setting up their own houshold). Similar to the old-fashioned "pounding", it was a way for a community to support the youngsters, who no doubt didn't have a spoon or a kettle to their names. Nowadays, with so many people delaying marriage until they are older and already having a household set up, one needs to be more creative than the toasters and fondue pots of my generation. I hope I was creative with the picnic basket for two, a reminder that romance belongs in marriage more perhaps than it belongs in courtship.
More brides are foregoing the veil and the promise to obey, which in my mind is all to the better. The veil in particular seems to suggest those long-ago days when brides were purchased and the groom didn't get to see her face until well into the ceremony, when it was too late to back out. Remember Jacob marrying the wrong sister in the Bible...he had to work 7 more years to purchase the chick he was really in love with.
And as for the obey pledge...I always wondered why the brides were required to pledge obedience when the grooms weren't. I mean, don't successful modern marriages compromise on stuff?
And don't get me started on the pledge to "remain faithful"! Just heard the statistic that 75% of the American people see nothing wrong with an extramarital affair, as long as they don't get caught.
Candles at this particular wedding were out, which made sense since there was a pretty stiff breeze the whole evening. (Although I know there would have been a fight at our table over who got to sit closest to the candle for the heat it might produce!)
A new (to me, anyway) tradition was born with mani/pedis for the wedding party women and they included aunts, sisters and cousins. I know it wasn't the real cause for our gathering, but to me it was the most significant. Three generations of women, all together after burying our matriarch in February, all sharing moments.
I brought out our grandmother's rosary and missal, offering it to my niece's soon-to-be husband for their vows in the Catholic church in a few weeks. Sweet tears. Stories of their growing up. Sweet laughter. My funny niece keeping us in stitches. Raucus laughter. The rhythm, ebb and flow of remembering, choosing a nail color, being pampered, and sharing it with women I'd be proud to know, even if they weren't my blood. Let's hear it for new rituals!
I'm still a little iffy about the ritual of "giving away" the bride by the parents. Once again, it smacks of bride price. But it survives, perhaps, because it signifies the family's acceptance of the groom. I just wish they'd give the groom away too! That would make it more equitable.
A relatively new ritual is the officiant's admonition to the congregation and getting them to pledge their support of this marriage that is beginning this day. This is good ritual.
I remember one of my co-workers a while ago, who was embroiled in the planning for a "pull out all the stops" wedding. He asked for my advice and strangely, some actual words of wisdom popped out of my mouth (didn't know I was that smart!). Without thinking, I blurted out, "Just make sure you spend at least as much time planning your marriage as you have spent planning your wedding."
Brilliant, if I do say so myself. Because, despite the comfort of ritual and the community's acceptance of the new family begun, that's the crux of why we gather to celebrate. We hope that, despite all the pressures to the contrary, this union will be one that lasts.
I envy my two sisters who have been married for forty plus years. Our parents were married for 60 plus years, literally "till death did them part." But I'm hopeful every time I attend a wedding. I used to not attend if I didn't think the marriage would last, after attending an abyssmal wedding years ago where a full 3/4 of the congregation knew it wouldn't last. It lasted all of 8 months.
But now, having grown older and wiser, I attend every wedding I'm invited to that I can arrange to attend. Because the ritual is more important than I ever realized. (And also because I've occasionally been wrong about how long a particular marriage might last. Mea culpa.)
The very last part of the wedding is what put me over the edge, crying-wise. Because, you see, we have a ritual in our family. Mother's favorite piece of music EVER was Debussy's Claire de Lune. She had Uncle Bill (a masterful musician) play it every time we got together. Uncle Bill played at our weddings. Uncle Bill played it at our parents' funerals. So Claire de Lune was the last piece of music played at Leah's and Sara's weddings. Sob City. I didn't cry delicately into a lace handkerchief. I soddened at least three tissues.
But it was comforting too. Like the session at the spa, it cemented our family and assured me, at any rate, that despite now being the oldest generation in my family, ritual will go on. Our parents' deaths were sad, but not the end of our history, our rituals. Ritual is still important.
One of my rituals is baking bread and making soup on the first cold day of the Fall season. I feel some soup coming on.
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