Gravy, Grits And Sweet Tea--A Southerner's Tale Of Life On The Road

The travelers sat together at the long table and looked quietly at the plates being served. No biscuits. No grits. And no gravy. We all looked at each other; this wasn't something we were accustomed to. Mom asked the one question we all were thinking. "You got any sweet tea?" It was day eight of our trip up the East Coast and our taste buds were starting to show signs of withdrawal. Don't get me wrong, most of the food that we'd eaten was exceptional, save for that one order of belly clams I was encouraged to try on Martha's Vineyard. I like clams; or more accurately, I like clams that have been stripped of their bellies--something I like to call clam strips. The withdrawal I'm speaking of isn't one that every American can understand. Only those living below the sweet tea line know that it's the icy cold and delectably sweet beverage that's a staple in nearly every southern household. We drink our sweet tea for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. We drink it for weddings, funerals, and baptisms. And we really drink it when the hot, southern sun beats down on everything for ten months of the year and fries it all to a crisp. And what's the perfect accompaniment to a glass of sweet tea? A hot, buttered biscuit smothered with gravy and a side of cheese grits. We were now in week two of our withdrawal and the waitress looked at the long faces scattered around the table and replied, "Sorry, our tea is unsweetened, but we have plenty of artificial sweeteners." "I'll just have water," most of us said, while the rest wanted coffee. "Maybe, we'll stop at McDonalds for lunch?" Betty said. "We could get a sweet tea there." "No, Mickey D's today," Christy said. "Our lunch is catered. I'm getting the Chicken Marsala." "I thought today was the pork tenderloin or pasta primavera?" asked Brenda. "What are they saying?" asked Marlena. "G.? What did they say? Were they talking about the grilled salmon? I'm pretty sure I ordered the salmon. I hope they don't put any sauce on it?" "I hope I can have more than one slice of bread," said Mary. "Do they have a wheat shortage in New England or something?" she said with a loud, boisterous laugh. At this remark the whole table erupted in laughter--not only were we short on biscuits, but we were short on bread, too. Every catered meal we'd had so far had only allotted one slice of bread or roll per person. "Well, I guess since they aren't giving us any gravy, they aren't giving us any bread to sop it up with," said Lori. "You're probably, right," I replied. We all settled into our plates, each lost in our own thoughts. A few minutes passed when we heard a voice from the kitchen."Why didn't you tell me they were from the south?" Breakfast was finished and we boarded the bus for a day of sightseeing and sailing around Boothbay Harbor, Maine. The next morning, our last before we started home, we were met at the door of the Cod's Head Fish House & BBQ by Brian, our cook from the previous morning. "I didn't have enough ingredients around to make biscuits, but I did make y'all some grits and gravy. I hope you like it." You could feel the whole group smile as we walked in the door. Grits and gravy! At last! I made my way to the serving line and was surprised when Brian handed me a plate of hash browns out from the kitchen. "Extra crispy and no onions; I try to remember what people like," he said. Who cares about grits, gravy and sweet tea? This guy just made me fried potatoes without asking. AND without onions! "Bless your heart. I could just hug your neck," I said. "My pleasure," he said. "I can't wait to read your book." Now I really did want to hug his neck. Then a voice from somewhere in the back of the line. "Hey, G? Ask him if he has any more toast? Mary wants another slice."

Whatcha' Mean, You Don't Like Collard Greens?

During my recent overnight business trip, I was excited to get to stay in a really nice hotel that offered room service. It was late by the time I finished up my tasks for the day that I didn't really want to venture out anywhere so I ordered room service. The book that was in my room that told the specifics about the hotel and listed the room service menu seemed to be missing a page or two. Somewhere I had read that they offered breakfast as an option but couldn't find any breakfast items listed. I called the front desk and was transferred to a nice lady that worked in the restaurant. The following is our conversation: Me: I'd like to order room service... Lady: Okay, what'll ya have? What'll ya have? Me: I'm sorry. Could you repeat that? Lady: Yes, Ma'am, I said, what'll ya have, what'll ya have? Me: I'm not sure. Is this room service, or have I called the Varsity? Lady: Oh, you must live around here, don'tcha? I like to say that to the traveling folks. Makes 'em think they is at the Varsity, though. Since you is from around here, I'll rephrase my question and ask what would you like to have for dinner? Me: I'm not sure. My hotel book only lists options for lunch and late-night dining. It does list a Filet Mignon for $52, but I don't think I'll order that. You got any seafood plates? Lady: Yep, we sure do. We got a fried shrimp, french fries and cole slaw plate for $16, and it's good too. Me: Okay, I'll get that. (It was good.) I had called the front desk in the morning and mentioned that my hotel book was missing a few pages, so when I got back into the room the next night I was hoping to see what other options might be available. They hadn't provided me with the missing menu so I had to call again without knowing what I wanted. Lady: Room service. What'll ya have, what'll ya have? Me: I'd like to order room service, please. Lady: Sure thing, what'll ya have, what'll ya have? Me: I'm not sure. I don't have a complete menu in my room... Lady: Lordy, is this the same lady from last night? Me: Yep, sure is. Lady: I told them room cleaners to put you a new book in there, but I guess they didn't. It figures. Well, what'll ya have then, what'll ya in the mood for? Me: You got any fried chicken? Lady: Fried chicken? Honey, this ain't the Big Chicken, but we do have a three-piece platter with smashed taters and a vegetable. Me: Sounds goods. What's the vegetable? Lady: Why, collard greens, of course. That's the only thing that goes good with chicken. Me: Hmmm, I don't really like collard greens, you got anything else? Lady: Harump! Whacha' mean, you don't like collard greens? Are ya crazy or somethin'? I thought you said you was from around here? Me: I live up in the mountains, but I'm originally from Ohio. Lady: Oh, I see. You from north of the sweet tea line, (that's my favorite line to describe someone from the north) ain't ya? Well, we ain't got any other vegetables, so I'll send you a double order of taters, okay? It worked for me since mashed potatoes are my favorite food. The next day during our lunch break we were standing in line at the small cafeteria in the building where our training was taking place. Listed on the daily lunch special were fried chicken, mashed potatoes and a vegetable for only $5.99. "What's the vegetable?" I asked. You know I already knew the answer to that before the lady answered in a familiar voice. "What'll ya have, what'll ya have? It's my first day on the job here and the vegetable of the day is collard greens. Could you believe someone ordered the fried chicken at the hotel last night and said they didn't like collard greens?"....