Lan4Dawg

First of all please know that you have our deepest sympathies concerning your grand mother. Cook & prepare to your hearts delight and if, Athens forbid, any one should say any thing crass then just remark w/ a smile on your face that you would delight in preparing a cake for their funeral. Probably the best way to deter any possible awkward situation is to say some thing along the lines of, "the only thing that would relieve the stress was spending time in the kitchen; it was therapy for me" to any one and every one willing to listen. If that does not stop them cold then refer to the first paragraph and ask them what kind of cake they want. You might even hint that they should be much more comfortable w/ devil's food as opposed to angel's food. It would be especially fitting if you prepare a favorite of your grand mother's and made it known that you did it to remember her.

As the last of the renegades to weigh in on the subject (sorry but I have had ISP problems all w/e and finally have things resolved).... We thoroughly enjoyed the evening. The food was excellent and the company quite enjoyable. I do have to pat my self on the back as Fuss said the shrimp and grits she had were very good but mine are better. ":^) We should consider having a dinner once every three/four months or so just to try different places in/around Atlanta.

I keep my pipe tobacco, matches, & accessories for travel in a beat up and almost threadbare Old Weller Bourbon bag. They are almost identical to the CR bags but burgundy in color instead of purple and, yes, Old Weller still comes in the bags.

Another place in South Atlanta that crossed my mind is Melear's over near Fairburn/Union City. I was told that they are no longer open but believe I heard fr/ some one else that they were and have not been down that way in nearly for ever to confirm. Their 'cue was always very good and I visited quite often when the Rev & Mrs. Rev were "stationed" in Fairburn. Melear's is not in a direct line fr/ Atlanta to Callaway but not too far off the beaten path. I still think Sprayberry's is the one in mind but mentioning another possibility.

my guess is that you are thinking of Sprayberry's which was a favorite of the dearly departed Lewis Grizzard. While Lewis paid homage to the place I think most of his love of the place was b/c of fond memories from his child hood. The Fuss & I ate there a while back and it was good but by no means exceptional. (Of course both of us are of the opinion that you can seldomly have BAD barbecue. Some times barbecue is just that much better than at other places) If you are going past the place--and you would be if heading down I-85 towards Callaway Gardens--then it is worth a stop but I would not go out of my way for a visit.

I almost mentioned Six Feet Under but did not know if it would be close enough to Turner Field for them. I ate there once for lunch and it was pleasant enough. The food was good but not spectacular. The service was pleasant. Since I was doing some work at Oakland Cemetery the location was ideal and they have lots of good beers on draft and in bottles. The folks at Oakland Cemetery--at least the live ones--swear by the place and recommend it. If they are a bit adventurous they could spend some time at Oakland and then go across the street for dinner before heading to the stadium. There is also a Jamaican barbecue place near there that I have heard is pretty good but I can not for the life of me remember the name.

I tried making tea sandwiches once. It did not work out well as the bread got soggy and I could never figure out what to do w/ the lemon wedge. wait for it........wait for it.......where is that rim shot? truth be told we had tea sandwiches on a restaurant reception menu for about three months and had to remove them b/c there were mostly men in the kitchen and they could not grasp the idea of tea sandwiches. I would get these things stacked about an inch and a half high and filled w/ every thing short of the kitchen sink. As sexist as it sounds occasionally we could find a female who would do a beautiful job w/ them but I was never certain who would make the things or how they would turn out for the parties. Finally I caved and just changed the menu to read, "assortment of open faced mini sandwiches" & let the kitchen play.

Oh & where are my manners? Best wishes for a speedy recovery to your grand mother. Let us hope she is out wrestling the wild swamp cabbages in no time flat.

Jason, those of us what ain't fr/ north Florida area know it as "hearts of palm". I have had it fresh and believe me fresh is nothing like that canned stuff that we find at the neighbor hood super market. As Jo Manning describes it, "Swamp cabbage is the ivory white heart of the local cabbage palm. Pick a tree about 8-10 feet tall and cut the top off about a foot below where the fronds start. Peel the fronds off until you get to the white heart." I was really kind of surprised that John Edge has nothing about it in "Gracious Plenty".

your post made me run to the kitchen and pull out my copy of Jo Manning's "Seasonal Florida: A Taste of Life in North Florida" cook book that was given to me by my brother who now lives in St. Aug. She has several receipts for "swamp cabbage" and even tells how to harvest it but no sources for finding the stuff. I can not imagine who in Maryland would have swamp cabbage but you might try calling the Florida Department of Agriculture. The Georgia DoA publishes a "Market Bulletin" where fresh food (among other things) is advertised and Florida might have some thing similar or some one at the department might be able to tell you the best way to find what you want. Good Luck and keep us informed.

as a "PK" I could tell food & funeral stories to you fr/ now until we run out of all the pimento cheese sammiches in South Georgia. I well remember the "telephone tree" that always seemed to begin at the parsonage. The Rev would call mother fr/ the hospital w/ the news and she would start calling ladies in the church. There was always one little old lady in the congregation who seemed to know before even the Rev (& he was at the hospital w/ the family!) that so & so had passed (or "met his maker", "gone to his reward", "is at the Pearly Gates", "wears a robe & crown", "gone to be w/ Jesus", "left us", "departed for a much, much better place", "now sits at the right hand", "dines w/ the Lord", "is enjoying his time w/ __________[choose another recently departed relative or close friend]", or a myriad of other euphemisms for having died. There was always a "funeral casserole" or some such in the freezer or barring that you knew that what ever you were planning to have for dinner was about to go out the front door and down the street to the "dearly departed's" family. Food always went to the immediate family as soon as the news was heard and then the day of the funeral there was a gathering of any one and every one at the church "fellow ship hall" for a covered dish dinner that could feed half the community three times over. There was always a discussion at the church about how not only do we miss the dearly departed but it "just is not the same w/o her [casserole or cake or pie or what ever it was for which she was famous]". (I remember at my great aunt's funeral one of the cousins mentioned that we needed some "Aunt Dell Cake" to which the lady in charge of putting things together at the church said, "Honey, I thought about making it but knew I could not stand the comparisons") Things have changed a lot but there is still some thing about a small town funeral. Every thing comes to a stop. The police make a big deal of directing traffic but there really is no need as there is no traffic to direct---every one in town is in the funeral procession except for the few who could not leave their place of business and they are standing respectfully out front of their respective stores as the procession passes. The fact that people actually refuse to pull over to the side of the road or attempt to pass or cut in to a funeral procession is just further proof of the decline of Western Civilization.

good point but we can still talk bad about 'em behind their backs. ":^)

3. when you order tea--note: not iced tea or sweet tea b/c there is no need to specify, besides it would be swee'tea any way--you are going to get brown syrup 4. the waitress does not know your name nor does she care to know your name b/c as long as you are there it will be "sweetie", "honey", "hon", "sUGAr", "darlin'", or some thing similar. 5. macaroni and cheese is a vegetable 6. so is rice 7. "save room for pie" is the last thing you hear fr/ your waitress as she leaves the table after taking your order.

Er... I believe it was Robert Benchley who said, "let’s get out of these wet clothes and into a dry martini." Peter Benchley, his son, is more famously known for things like, "the great fish moved silently through the night water, propelled by short sweeps of its crescent tail" and "aaaaaaaaugh! A shark just bit my freakin' leg off!" I knew it was one of those Benchleys and am forever confusing the two. I wonder if that shark drank a martini--or enjoyed some other libation--before dinner. ":^)

just to ramble along the same subject lines.... I remember years ago before the "martini glass craze" hit--& let's face it the craze is not w/ martinis them selves but the glass in which they are served--we joined another couple for dinner and met at the bar. The bar tender took our order and "M" could not decide what she wanted. I ordered my usual, "Bombay--if you have it--martini, about 8-1, very well chilled w/ a twist, thank you". "M" chimed in, "that sounds good. I will have one as well." The bar tender returned a moment later and apologized b/c they were out of martini glasses (as I said this was before the craze hit and finding a true V-shaped glass in a bar was hit or miss). My response was, "not a problem, what ever glass you have is fine w/ me". "M" was appalled and had to order some thing different. It was not the drink but the glass she wanted. "It just looks so cool holding that glass" she explained. We tease about the Cosmopolitan but at least they had the decency to call it by a real name and not a "cran-tini" or some thing similar. Of course I did have some one once order a "Cosmopolitan martini". I assumed it was a regular Cosmopolitan and prepared same to their delight. I do have a problem w/ the craze going so far as to take basic cocktails and changing their names to reflect the "martini glass craze". Upon picking up a "cocktail menu" at an establishment recently I noticed a mud-slide as a "mudtini" and a White Russian as a "coffee & cream-tini" w/ a Black Russian as a "coffee-tini", a Salty Dog as a "Grapefruitini", &c. I have enough problems playing twenty questions w/ a bar tender when I order a martini as it is---gin or vodka?, twist or olive?, straight up or on the rocks? (seldomly asked any more)? how much vermouth?, type of gin? that I do not need to spend another ten minutes specifying if I want cranberry or apple juice, a flavored vodka or gin, some bizarre liqueur that is trendy or just got a marketing boost by making a new-fangled drink w/ it, &c. Just, to quote Peter Benchley, "Quick! get me out of these wet clothes and in to a dry martini!" Every one knew exactly what he wanted.

Thank you for the kind words. As to your questions: If I had found fried chicken even remotely comparable to that which my grand mother lovingly prepared do you think I would admit it? Why she would rise right up out of her grave and snatch me bald-headed! Perhaps there have been some preparations that could rival hers as far as taste (& btw, Melissa, I like how you put it--"experienced" as opposed to "tasted") but nothing compares to sitting around her dining room table on a Sunday after noon w/ a horde of relatives eating fried chicken, squash casserole, fresh from the garden green beans and tomatoes, rice w/ gravy made fr/ the chicken drippings, and those great big yeast rolls that she always forgot were in the oven until about half way through dinner and then would jump up fr/ the table and race in to the kitchen loudly lamenting her forgetfulness. It was well in to my teen years that I realized that rolls were not supposed to be burnt on the bottom and chickens did not come w/ six legs. As for the Stone Mountain to which I refer it is located in Georgia. Oh & one thing I forgot. Grand mothers, especially Southern grand mothers always made certain that the chicken was cut so that there was a "pulley bone" for which ever of the youngsters preferred that particular piece. Note it is a "pulley bone" & not a "wish bone" down here. in loving memory of Mr. Squirt (1998-2004)--the best cat ever.

I knew that the world was going straight to "hell in a hand basket" when I walked in to a church fellowship hall after a Sunday morning service and found store bought chicken on the buffet table. I just knew that the good Methodist women in my family who were no longer w/ us were whirling devirshly in their graves at the very thought. My grand mother played the organ at her church and would leave services as soon as the last note finished echoing through out the sanctuary to drive home as fast as her ancient Chevrolet and the Stone Mountain city police would allow in order to start her fried chicken. It had been marinating in a mixture of water, butter milk, & salt since before she left for Sunday School and she would then shake it in flour, salt, & pepper and fry it in hot Crisco, put it in to a cloth covered basket and drive back to the church. The only problem she would encounter was the traffic jam caused by all of the other little ladies who had run home to do the same thing. Actually she was one of the few women who stayed through the entire service as many of them--those who did not play organ or piano, sing in the choir, or keep the nursery--would either skip the service or leave during the sermon to run home and prepare the food for dinner. There was also the one woman in the congregation whose sole purpose in life was to worry about whether or not there would be enough food. It did not matter if there were a half dozen tables absolutely groaning w/ enough food to keep the Huns fr/ attacking for a week she would be concerned that there might just not quite be enough to feed the assembled congregation and always had a contingency plan of several ladies who would return home to fry up more chicken, heat the casserole that was saved for Monday's dinner, or find some thing to feed those that did not find sustenance in the first pass through the line. In the minds of these ladies bringing any thing that was not prepared by loving Christian hands in the sanctity of the home kitchen to a church social was a sin some where between murder and adultery and would get you booted out of heaven faster than admitting to not knowing the entire words to all of the verses of "Old Rugged Cross". in loving memory of Mr. Squirt (1998-2004)--the best cat ever.

my 1935 copy of Mr. Boston shows the Harlem Cocktail (no number) w/ the same proportions. An educated guess as to the origins of the cocktail is that there was a Manhattan and several versions of a Bronx cocktail as well as a Brooklyn therefore a new cocktail would be named after another area of New York, hence: The Harlem Cocktail. I do not think it came fr/ the original Harlem (actually spelled Haarlem if memory serves) in The Netherlands but seeing as how gin is the central ingredient it could have. in loving memory of Mr. Squirt (1998-2004)--the best cat ever.

I usually get my grits fr/ Nora Mill up near Helen, GA. They may not be the best in the world but it gives an excuse for me to run up to north Georgia and play in the mountains. They do have a web site and do mail orders (www.noramill.com) Matter of fact I did a beef grillades and grits for dinner this evening and made some extra for pan frying w/ eggs for lunch tomorrow. I wish the Fuss liked cat fish b/c one of my favoritest meals in the world is blackened cat fish over grits w/ craw fish "gravy" and fresh tomatoes pan-fried in the left over fish butter. in loving memory of Mr. Squirt (1998-2004)--the best cat ever.

I have not tried it but it is literally jumping off the shelves at the store. We are not talking a major marketing ploy either just a simple stand alone shelf display of product which is some what buried. It seriously out sells Kahlua. in loving memory of Mr. Squirt (1998-2004)--the best cat ever.

Holly, there is a reason that when my grand mother gave her home- made, fresh-from-the-back-yard, cloyingly sweet fig preserves to us w/ a "cat head" biscuit she gave them to us w/ a bowl and a spoon. ":^) The syrup is for "soppin'". You balance a piece of fruit on the edge of the biscuit and take a luscious bite. Then you use the remainder of the biscuit to sop up the syrup still on the plate. If you work it right then you will need another biscuit to get the remaining syrup and you might as well have some more preserves b/c you still have some biscuit left over. And since you now have more syrup you have to have another biscuit ad infinitum....... in loving memory of Mr. Squirt (1998-2004)--the best cat ever.

checking the mint for new shoots in order to have plenty for Kentucky Derby Day; watching the blue berries bloom and anticipating how many you will have; following the Fuss around to out of the way nurseries, plant shows, garden stores, &c finding the best and cheapest tomatoes, beans, pepper, & squash plants; checking the temperature every night to see if it is still too cold for the basil to be transplanted out side; purchasing a big block of sharp cheddar, Duke's mayonnaise, red pimentos and white bread for pimento cheese sandwiches b/c the Masters' is just around the corner and you can not really enjoy the Masters' w/o a fresh home made pimento cheese sammich; knowing that finding zucchini in the market at over $1.49/lb will soon be but a mere memory; anticipating what to do w/ the scads of zucchinis that will find their way to your house come July/August; realizing while frying bacon that in just a couple of months tomatoes will be ideal for the perfect "BLT"; sweet corn, sweet corn, sweet corn; listening for the unmistakeable sound of a tiller being started--they have a different pitch fr/ other small engines; finding the first earth worms on the concrete and gently moving them to the garden area; one day you return fr/ the wine store and realize that the case you just purchased contains no cabs or other big reds but is full of sauv blancs, chenin blancs, beaujolais, &c and you did not even know you were buying that way; boiled pea nut vendors begin to show up on country roads and those little road side farm stands are getting a fresh coat of paint as they start opening; you spend fifteen minutes watching as a honey bee makes her rounds fr/ blossom to blossom and realize it is the first of the season that you can recall; one day you come home fr/ work and it dawns on you that you crave a big glass of fresh squeezed lemon ade and do not really know why; just as you finish dinner you hope there is some left over fried chicken b/c it would be awfully good served cold w/a big scoop of potato salad while you are sitting in the park at lunch the next day; you have a hankering for pesto made fresh fr/ the garden; you brush the Carolina jessamine away fr/ the mail box and suddenly have a serious craving for a Dr. Pepper; you open all the windows in the kitchen while preparing dinner and take twice as long to make it as you enjoy the breezes and noise fr/ out side; one day you find that you do not want to turn on the oven b/c the kitchen will just get too hot and you start searching for dishes that can be made stove top; you realize that soon--very, very soon--you are going to completely ruin the front of a white shirt by eating a tomato fresh fr/ the garden and you can barely control your mouth watering in anticipation. in loving memory of Mr. Squirt (1998-2004)--the best cat ever.

guilty of lurking instead of participating in this particular forum but a thought: I enjoy the idea of the wine of the week and quite often purchase the wine to try b/c it is mentioned as the WOW. I also appreciate the fact that some "run-of-the mill" wines have been mentioned b/c it gives an opportunity to "re-explore" and re-evaluate some old chestnuts that we had either ignored or forgotten about. That being said.... instead of Wine of the Week why not Wine of the Month? I know many of us buy in bulk to get the case savings and being cheap I hate to go in to the wine store to get a single bottle knowing I could save 10%+ if I could put together a case (...but I just bought a case last week and my accountant looks at me funny when he sees three checks in a row to the wine & liquor store--especially when each is for well over $200). Not to mention that by the time we find the WOW, get to the store to purchase it, plan a dinner around it, pull some thing fr/ the freezer or head to the grocery, put together our tasting notes, get ready to post we are reading about the WOW for the next week. I realize there are no hard & fast rules that you must post about the WOW the week it is mentioned but it seems some what futile and tardy to be discussing the WOW fr/ last week especially when the entire board is moving forward to the next wine. Extending the period fr/ a week to a month--& granted it lacks the lovely alliterative charm and fun acronym--but it might make more sense in the long run and give folks some time to work with and plan around the wine. in loving memory of Mr. Squirt (1998-2004)--the best cat ever.

there used to be--& truth be told I do not know if they even make it any more I just remember it being on our inventory list at the restaurant seemingly for ever--a Canton Ginger Liqueur. At one point I jokingly mentioned that we should consider an "Oriental martini" w/ vodka & ginger liqueur but none of us was too keen on the idea so it went no where. I suppose in keeping w/ the subject one should use rice vodka in the mix. in loving memory of Mr. Squirt (1998-2004)--the best cat ever.

Sounds to me like you've turned the glorious, but simple and humble, mac & cheese into some sort of fancy-ass midwestern casserole. Indeed, a relocation to Ohio might be in order. Perhaps there is a culinary witness protection program to which you can apply. ← Ohio?! but....Sherman was from Ohio! & so was Grant! Any where but Ohio! actually I usually make a white sauce w/ shredded carrots, celery, & onions, a hint of garlic & nutmeg so it is not just the mac & cheese that gets that treatment. Now if I wanted to make it "fancy ass" I would use sixteen types of cheese & make my own pasta but then I would be too "fancy assed" for Ohio and you would want to send me to New York City. in loving memory of Mr. Squirt (1998-2004)--the best cat ever.