Are you a Grits girl?

[jgm]

I am a failed GRITS girl. My poor mother tried her best, but she never did make a lady out of me. I try hard to mind my manners, but politics and making a point often get in the way.

In college, I had a pair of jeans with a hole in the butt (a true GRITS girl would never say "butt"; she would say "bottom"), and I wore them every time I came home. My father never did catch on that it was the same pair every time, and every time, as I was leaving, he gave me money for new clothes. And that makes me a GRITS girl in spirit, if nothing else. GRITS girls know how to get what they want!

I do, however, put on lipstick every morning, and leave a lipstick imprint somewhere on my sleeping husband's face when I kiss him goodbye.

And I passed my grandmother's GRITS girl test: I can make a piecrust without measuring ANYTHING.

[Fresser]

I do, however, put on lipstick every morning, and leave a lipstick imprint somewhere on my sleeping husband's face when I kiss him goodbye.

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You have one lucky husband.

So, you have a sister maybe? I'm eminently smoochable. And I make a mean pot of cheddar cheese grits, too. GRITS don't mind a man in the kitchen, do they?

[annecros]

Oh, I love this thread.

I am a gritty girl. Very grits like.

"Pretty is", is just prettiness. Pretty doesn't put the groceries on the table. I don't care what I look like, it's your problem if you don't like it. Although, there are a couple of people who like the way I look. Not TOO hard on the eyes, and kinda interesting.

Sort of like the "Idgie" character from Fried Green.

Remember, the secret is in the sauce.

Never had a problem gettin' a date, neither.

Don't like it? Well then I'll just have to whup you till you do. You'll like it then.

[annecros]

I am a failed GRITS girl.  My poor mother tried her best, but she never did make a lady out of me.  I try hard to mind my manners, but politics and making a point often get in the way.

In college, I had a pair of jeans with a hole in the butt (a true GRITS girl would never say "butt"; she would say "bottom"), and I wore them every time I came home.  My father never did catch on that it was the same pair every time, and every time, as I was leaving, he gave me money for new clothes.  And that makes me a GRITS girl in spirit, if nothing else.  GRITS girls know how to get what they want!

I do, however, put on lipstick every morning, and leave a lipstick imprint somewhere on my sleeping husband's face when I kiss him goodbye.

And I passed my grandmother's GRITS girl test:  I can make a piecrust without measuring ANYTHING.

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So, I am guessing you never read the "Diary of a Failed Southern Lady" from Florence King. Please do so, and put the failure and martyrdom, and stuff aside. She will explain. And there are quite a lot of references to food in the book, because of her shared southern background.

I pissed my pants. Funny.

[racheld]

Florence King is the Queen of writing about G.R.I.T.S. and Belles and all manner of Southern Womanhood; Fannie Flagg is an absolute genius with a golden gift for dialogue and character and scene, as well.

My own Mother was given a lifelong wedding gift by her favorite aunt, a thin, rangy woman with an ever-present Camel in her hand or between her lips. She called Mother in one day just before they were to get married, had her set up the ironing board, and handed her a set of khaki work clothes and several of my uncle's white shirts. Not until Mother had ironed them to Aunt's satisfaction did the lesson cease, and this was not a steam-iron affair---this was a glass Coke bottle with a sprinkler stopper, sprinkling JUST SO, then ironing with a curly-cord iron plugged into the outlet on the side of a ceiling light fixture.

THEN, they went to the kitchen, where Mother cut up a chicken, did all the appropriate hand-scrubbing and sanitation necessary to a kitchen, then fried the chicken, made a smooth, lump-free gravy and a chocolate pie from scratch, using the crust Mother had made that morning and had chilling whilst she ironed.

Aunt had felt sorry for Mother because she'd never been allowed in the kitchen except to do dishes---she was left-handed and made Mammaw nervous, cutting "backward like that." All that probably accounts for my having been allowed free run of kitchen, knives, stove, and pantry from a very young age. Maybe that's why I like to cook so much.

And G-girls mostly say "Bee-hind." And sometimes, in exigent circumstances, they can be heard to mutter, "Dayum, Bobby Ray!"

[MissAmy]

My mother is the queen of all Grits. She went to finishing school for Lord's sake. I certainly have Grits-like aspects to my character. However, I would never, ever be a true Grits girl, as I am way to loud and opinionated and politically minded for such.

On the other hand: I have always secretly harbored a desire to be a cheerleader, can not leave the house without putting on makeup or being reasonably put-together, still have all prom dresses and bridesmaid dresses from years past, actually possess a 'hope chest', can not even begin to think of eating any sort of green without some sort of pork product added (which appals my vegetarian and Kosher friends), have seen "Steel Magnolias" about eleventy kabillion times, know all the lyrics to "Strawberry Wine," can dance, was asked to join cotillion but turned them down on political principle, if I wanted could be a member of the DAR and DAC, I make a mean peach cobbler, my grandmother's buscuit recipe is one of my treasured keepsakes, and my mother drilled into me the most archaic telephone manners of all time which I still employ because people seem to like it.

Oh, and I can't stop saying "ya'll" no matter how hard I try.

[slo_ted]

The world HQ for GRITS has got to be Dallas, TX. I've never seen so many dressed up, bejewelled ladies in any one space as the supermarket in north Dallas I went to for a bottle of milk.

[Chufi]

I wanna bring this thread back up especially for Chufi, over on the dinner thread.  She's in Amsterdam, but her picture of a fried drumstick, properly marinated in buttermilk, Tabasco, etc., then cooked to the perfect golden-brown, perfect shattery crust, is worthy of any Below-the-MD-cook in possession of her Mammaw's black skillet and a leftover cotillion corsage.

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racheld, thank you.. I'm going out now to buy a bottle of bourbon and you've inspired me to do some Southern cooking tonight!

[jgm]

My mother is the queen of all Grits. She went to finishing school for Lord's sake.

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My, my I had almost forgotten! I did go to "charm school" for awhile. It ended with this conversation:

Me: "We had a lot of fun at charm school today!"

Father: "Really? What did you do?"

Me: "We learned how to gracefully climb out of the back seat of a Mustang."

Father: "You don't need to know how to get out of the back seat of a Mustang. You'd better not be getting into the back seat of a Mustang."

Although my husband is in the process of restoring a '67 ragtop, I am now to old to get in, or out, of the back seat of a Mustang --without help from a crane.

Life is just full of missed opportunities, isn't it?

[annecros]

My mother is the queen of all Grits. She went to finishing school for Lord's sake.

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My, my I had almost forgotten! I did go to "charm school" for awhile. It ended with this conversation:

Me: "We had a lot of fun at charm school today!"

Father: "Really? What did you do?"

Me: "We learned how to gracefully climb out of the back seat of a Mustang."

Father: "You don't need to know how to get out of the back seat of a Mustang. You'd better not be getting into the back seat of a Mustang."

Although my husband is in the process of restoring a '67 ragtop, I am now to old to get in, or out, of the back seat of a Mustang --without help from a crane.

Life is just full of missed opportunities, isn't it?

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I went to charm school as well. And ballet class. And I AM DAR and UDC.

Lost my virginity on the hood of a green buick skylark parked behind a warehouse late at night in an industrial park. He did bring a blanket. And a bottle of wine. And professed his love for me most eloquently. He was out of the picture about a year later.

What missed opportunities?

For all the lipstick, veneer of manners, coquettish eyelash batting, there is a steel rod that runs up the spine of every southern lady I have ever known. I wouldn't want to try and pull anything off on her...

[Fresser]

I have always secretly harbored a desire to be a cheerleader, can not leave the house without putting on makeup or being reasonably put-together, still have all prom dresses and bridesmaid dresses from years past, actually possess a 'hope chest' and can not even begin to think of eating any sort of green without some sort of pork product added (which apalls my vegetarian and Kosher friends). 

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Far be it from me to tell a Southern lady how to enjoy her collard greens. Damn Yankee presumption.

Now top those collards with some smoked turkey, however, and I just might have to buy a bouquet of flowers and pay a social visit.

[Lan4Dawg]

Oh man! but do not ever cross one. I swear that elephants will forget that they like peanuts before GRITS will forget that they have been wronged. And the wrath of a charging elephant is nothing in comparison.

You will wish that YOU had been used to feed the hungry folks at the Whistle Stop Cafe after a GRITS is finished w/ you should you ever commit the sin of angering one.

[Kim Shook]

My name is Jason Perlow, I'm a Jewish boy from New York, and I -LOVE- grits girls. If interested, please email me at BIGSUTHERNLUVIN235@AOL.COM.

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Hush, you! We know your wife! But you are forgiven. Southern girls and Jewish boys can't resist each other. Just ask Florrie King. Both raised to believe that we were the center of the universe and adored by our opposite sex parents.

[Fresser]

Southern girls and Jewish boys can't resist each other.  Just ask Florrie King.  Both raised to believe that we were the center of the universe and adored by our opposite sex parents.

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So will the Southern belle of my dreams allow me in the kitchen to cook? I've been cooking for Mama Fresser since I was 7 years old.

[Kim Shook]

Southern girls and Jewish boys can't resist each other.  Just ask Florrie King.  Both raised to believe that we were the center of the universe and adored by our opposite sex parents.

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So will the Southern belle of my dreams allow me in the kitchen to cook? I've been cooking for Mama Fresser since I was 7 years old.

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Law, yes! Shiksabelles love being served!

[MissAmy]

I have always secretly harbored a desire to be a cheerleader, can not leave the house without putting on makeup or being reasonably put-together, still have all prom dresses and bridesmaid dresses from years past, actually possess a 'hope chest' and can not even begin to think of eating any sort of green without some sort of pork product added (which apalls my vegetarian and Kosher friends). 

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Far be it from me to tell a Southern lady how to enjoy her collard greens. Damn Yankee presumption.

Now top those collards with some smoked turkey, however, and I just might have to buy a bouquet of flowers and pay a social visit.

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I'm sure my daddy would be just thrilled if some Northerner showed up off the internet encouraging his baby girl to change her greens recipe!

[angberke]

Great topic!

Okay I was born and bred in California and never even heard of grits til I was 30. That meeting was love at first taste and I have been smitten ever since. Though I've lived everywhere BUT the south and am now raising two Jewish daughters (on grits with butter or cheese, mind you) in Salt Lake City all it takes is one glass of sweet tea and an accent miraculously appears.

Angela

[racheld]

Great topic!

all it takes is one glass of sweet tea and an accent miraculously appears.

Angela 

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Welcome, Sisters!!! Pick up that black skillet and join right in. You're like my old friend whose needlepoint sampler reads: "I wasn't born in the South, but I got here as soon as I could."

And Klary, our Amsterdam member of the perfect fried chicken above, has just posted her first shrimp etouffee on the Dinner thread---it looks so good, I offered to FedEx her a bag of grits for next time.

[Kim Shook]

"I wasn't born in the South, but I got here as soon as I could."

Momma, in a moment of pregancy-induced insanity, gave birth to me in Washington, DC, but brought me across the river home to Arlington as soon as the drugs wore off. This has been my personal motto ever since !

[Bill Miller]

My wife is originally from South Carolina and has four "Grits" T-shirts in different colors. She sometimes response "How nice", instead of something off color. I love it.

[Fresser]

My wife is originally from South Carolina and has four "Grits" T-shirts in different colors. She sometimes response "How nice", instead of something off color.  I love it.

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Gee, everyone can find a fine Southern lady except the Fress Man.

[therese]

Okay, so I'm going to go ahead and admit that I fulfill all criteria for GRITS.

Listening to Johnny Cash's "Hey Porter" has prompted me to reveal this information.

[jgm]

Gee, everyone can find a fine Southern lady except the Fress Man. 

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So how much time do you spend in the South? That's where most of them are!

My (southern) momma always said "You'd better hope you don't get everything you pray for." Remember that these ladies have many fine qualities, but they always get what they want.

Always.

[racheld]

And Klary, our Amsterdam member of the perfect fried chicken above, has just posted her first shrimp etouffee on the Dinner thread---it looks so good, I offered to FedEx her a bag of grits for next time.

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I never self-quoted before, but I must draw attention to the Dinner Thread. The sweet thing has just made up some of the purtiest Cheese Biscuits this side of a Baptist All-Day Singin'--and about enough of them to serve a good sized choir and several Deacons. She's getting Southerner and Southerner by the day.

[GRITS]

oh, I'm a GRITS girl through and through. I wanna swim in an ocean of red-eye gravy and sop up the suds with homemade buttermilk biscuits. Honey, you can count me in.

I just came across this riotously titled book: Grits Guide to Life.  Grits here is actually an acronym for Girls Raised In The South. 

Being a Yankee (and single, did I mention?) , I'm enthralled by Southern Belles.  So I had to peer inside.

Along with recipes for Dolly Parton's Favorite Meatloaf (start with two mounds of ground beef?  ) and House Tea ("The house wine of the South," says the book), the book includes such pearls of wisdom as, "If you can be ready to go in less than thirty minutes, you probably shouldn't be leaving the house at all!"

So I ask the fine ladies of eGullet:  are any of y'all Grits Girls? And does a woman have to be from the South to be a grits girl?

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