O, Heavenly and unending Joy! My Southern Cooking Bible (almost redundant, that title) has arrived this day! You may notice that this post is being published several hours after the delivery of the post; this is because I spent the majority of the afternoon and evening passed out by the mailbox out of sheer ecstasy. If that turtle hadn't crossed by to bite my toe, I might never have come to. (I would have found use for him, but there is no recipe for turtle soup in this book, sadly. The World Wildlife Fund is now doubly my enemy, after having stolen its acronym from the greatest sports team known to man.)
Due to extensive sun poisoning and the lateness of the hour, I am unfortunately unable to begin my cooking adventure at this time. However, I have pored over every enchanting character of the introduction several times now. Since I would hate to risk copyright violation (and, moreover, because we must ALL purchase this book in order to preserve Lady Deen's Glorious Empire), I have decided to share only the absolute choice bits, interspersed with my own humble musings, though it pains me to truncate our Heroine's efforts.
Lovely Paula's words will be here presented in purple lettering, to further emphasize her regality. My own thoughts will be rendered in italics, to express my trance-like state at being brought closer to understanding Her Vision.
"Y'all know I was born and raised on Southern food and made my name sharing my version of down-home cooking with the world. But the funny thing is that until I began to travel outside of my own little town of Albany, Georgia, I couldn't have told you what Southern cooking is all about."
Though I'm typically a staunch supporter of isolationism, I approve of Ms. Deen's efforts on this front; exploration is essential to the development of cuisine. After all, if not for Iberian colonization of the New World and their subsequent discovery of the potato, the Belgians would never have been able to invent Freedom Fries.
"When I moved to Savannah as an adult, I learned mighty fast how differently folks eat there, with all the fruits of the sea--beautiful blue crab and sweet shrimp--just swimming right outside their back doors. When I married Michael, I married into Savannah red rice, shrimp and grits, and a big old Low-Country boil full of seafood."
And when Michael married you, he made Prince Philip look downright useful by comparison. Not that he could ever complain, being the luckiest of tag-along grooms.
"You haven't eaten Southern food until you've had a taste of the Tennessee mountains' stack cakes and chowchow..."
The Appalachians eat dogs? I wasn't aware they had been infiltrated by Maoists.
"All of this good food comes out of a rich history. In Louisiana, for instance, exiled French refugees known as the Acadians arrived in South Louisiana from Nova Scotia, Canada, in the mid-1700s."
Another reason to sever diplomatic ties with Canada: they sent their Frogs here to eat ours.
"Each time I learn something new about what all the great cooks of the South have simmering, I hold my head a little higher. I am just so proud to count myself among them."
Nay, Lady, not among them; above them.
"Good, down-home Southern cooking isn't fancy, but when y'all sit down to a simple plate of crisp fried chicken; a fluffy, warm, just-buttered biscuit; a mess of greens cooked down with a bit of ham; and a tall, handsome banana cream pie topped with ice-cold whipped cream afterward, well, you'll have to agree: there is just nothing better."
I had never thought to describe that particular dessert as "handsome" before, but this is an undeniably powerful and apt description. I wonder if there's any way I can call my fiance a "banana cream pie" without seeming to accuse him of being a homosexual.
"I could spend the rest of my days crisscrossing the states south of the Mason-Dixon line with my cast-iron skillet..."
Why not cross to the North with it, too, in order to smite carpetbaggers?
"Heck, you can get in a war down here over barbecue sauce..."
At the risk of harming our tourism industry, you will.
"In fact, even when times were hard, Southerners typically used their resourcefulness and the bounty of berry bushels, streams and brooks, and a kitchen garden to get them through. So many of the beloved recipes in these pages were born through the combination of a talented cook and a scant pantry: flour, shortening, cornmeal, maybe a bit of smoked ham, and the occasional old laying hen, plus a bushel of homegrown fruits and vegetables. These are the main ingredients in the majority of recipes in this book."
Times have been thus hard for Southerners since the never-ending cultural shaming known as "Reconstruction" was initiated. And, lo and behold, how do they dethrone a successful Southern woman? By trying to make her Righteous Authoritarianism sound like it's a bad thing.
"All my recipes are big on flavor--because in the South, as my mama always told me, your seasonings need to be scared of you, not the other way around."
My own mama told me the same thing about political dissidents.
"Now, Southerners can be big, loud, and passionate, and we are never more that way than when we're talking food."
Or talking political dissidents.
At the bottom of the last page of this Dear Dissertation lies Ms. Deen's signature; though in cursive, the strokes are upright, powerfully refusing to be stricken with shame or guilt at the hands of the Northern Scourge. And, directly under the tail of the "n" (for "nationalism") lies a wry smiley face, subverting the subversive.
Hopefully, you the reader are now as eager as I am to delve into the gastronomical treasures contained within this album. Ever Forward, fellow Eaters of the Epoch!
Peckish and Principled,
Seguin Womack
Heeheehee...
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