New Year’s in July

This month, I’ve been doing what many people do near the end of December – reflecting on the past year and planning for the next. It may seem unnatural to do so mid-way through the year, but I have good reason. The past 12 months have proven to be my most tumultuous and life-changing yet. I have experienced a lot of ‘firsts’ – mostly bad, though a few were good.

It seems to me that since this past year is coming to a close, now would be a good time for fate to throw some ‘good’ my way. So in a way, this like is New Year’s for me. It’s time to turn over a new leaf and hope to balance out a terrible year by following it with a fantastic one.

What does that have to do with being in the South, you might ask? Well, I guess it’s about coming full circle – a return to the beginning. The last time I lived here, I was a small child. I had my whole life ahead of me. Perhaps my being here again is a chance to start from scratch, get a “re-do.” (Not for my whole life, just for this past year.)

Not that anything I could have done would have prevented what the universe threw my way, but all the same it’s hard not to wonder, “Was there?”

Regardless, here’s what happened. In the last twelve months:

• I witnessed the birth of a child for the first time.
• My boyfriend of eight years moved across the country.
• I moved in with my mom after about six years of being out of the house. (I’m not saying ‘away from home’ – her house isn’t my home. Rather, I moved away from home into her house.)
• My grandmother came to live with us in my mom’s house, where I helped my mom care for her.
• My grandmother died.
• I moved to Washington, D.C., resulting in what was my first across-the-country road trip.
• My grandfather died.
• I experienced my first D.C. winter (one that I have been told is not reflective of the average): ‘Snowmaggedon.’ This may not seem like a big deal to some, but fellow desert rats know that it most definitely was.
• I moved to Chapel Hill, NC.

And so here I am. Much more happened in addition to what I listed, but to understand the intricacies and ironies that come with them all would require significant explanation – which (I believe) few are likely to care about, and fewer will take the time to read.

All this upheaval was distressing (to say the least) but it provided a reason to reexamine my approach to change – something  to which I was previously poorly equipped to adapt. I was characteristally routine and avoided situations in which I was not in control.

That being said, I realize now that one cannot avoid situations which are beyond his/her control. Obvious, right? For me, that was easy to perceive in a logical sense without applying to reality at all.  That’s not to say I’d never encountered the ‘uncontrollable’ – I just continued to cling to the notion that if I tried really hard, I could change anything.

Now, I’ve learned: when life delivers a unavoidable blow, it’s best to absorb the impact and reconstruct later. What happens when one try’s to control things beyond that individual’s control? It leads to feelings of utter worthlessness at the point of ‘failure.’ Really, the person has not failed, because the attempt was futile anyway. So it’s best to save up energy for use when the time comes to pick up the pieces.

Again, it’s easy to say, but not so easy to do (at least for me). Nevertheless, awareness is the first step on the road to improvement.

On a lighter note, here are a few other things I learned:

• Watching a baby being born made me neither more nor less afraid of childbirth – just more aware of the reality of it and equally terrified.
• I need my friends more than I thought I did – and they need me more than I thought they did.
• Don’t hesitate to get to know people – everyone has at least one amazing story. And they could be gone before you know it.
• I am not nearly as averse to cold weather as I thought I’d be – just the complications that come with it.
• I actually like Southern food – but not as much as Mexican food.
• Solo day/road trips are the best way to 1) find space/time to think, 2) explore a new place in a small amount of time, 3) spend a lot of money on gas.

(Almost) another year older, another year wiser – so the saying goes. Here’s hoping this year will be the best one yet.

Cheers.

Photo from Livescience.com.

Shrimp + grits

Another adventure in Southern cooking . . .

While visiting my grandparents when I was younger, my Uncle Bill (a Southern man, born and bred) asked my sister and me if we wanted grits. From the sound of the word “grits,” I thought they must be something like dirt. Despite my dislike of the word itself, I agreed to try them. I LOVED them!  I think I asked poor Uncle Bill to make me grits at least three more times that visit.

Lately, I’ve been craving that cheesy-buttery-peppery taste so I thought I’d indulge myself. It is Friday, after all!

Tonight I made shrimp and grits.

For those who don’t know, grits is made from hominy – corn soaked in an alkali to remove the germ and hull, which is then dried and ground. Ground hominy is boiled to make grits, a hot cereal similar in texture to Cream of Wheat, but coarser.

Here’s what went into my shrimp and grits:

• 8 shrimp, boiled from frozen
• 3 tablespoons grits
• 3/4 cup milk
• 1 big blob of butter
• 1 slice of sharp cheddar cheese
• Salt, pepper and garlic

Mmmm!

It sure was tasty, but judging by this photo clearly I don’t deserve an ‘A’ for presentation!

Ain’t you heard of ‘haint’?

The haint blue porch ceiling of my grandparents' 19th-century home.

Splashes of sky blues are peeking out from porch ceilings all across the Southern United States. Those who’ve visited the region likely have seen this classic decor.  Blue porch ceilings are vastly numerous – seemingly at least one or two can be found in any given neighborhood, and it’s not a new trend. My grandparents’  plantation-style house near D.C. (built in the 1860s) boasts a blue ceiling porch. Pale-to-medium atmospheric blues, sometimes tinged with hints of green or violet, make up this notorious range of hues dubbed “haint blue,” and it’s a staple of Southern architecture.

But where did it come from?

The story of haint blue is one that is deeply rooted in mythology and is still somewhat misunderstood. Even folklore experts can’t seem to agree on the tradition’s origins. One common theory is that its roots are in the Gullah/Geechee culture, an African American sub-group existing mainly in the South Carolina and Georgia Lowcountry. This group consists of descendants of  an amalgamation of people brought over to America as slaves from western and central Africa, with a large concentration hailing from Sierra Leone. Gullah/Geechee beliefs are a combination of African witchcraft  and  practices adopted from white Christian slave owners.

In line with this theory, the tradition of painting porch ceilings – also doors, windows, even entire buildings – shades of blue came from the Gullah/Geechee belief in witches and “haints,” unfriendly ghosts in a state of unrest. The blue was believed to repel evil spirits and keep the building’s occupants safe while inside.

Some experts believe the tradition of painting ceilings blue came from early Scottish or Scandanavian beliefs, which also instilled a fear of ghosts with unfinished business. Still others believe the Southern tradition is a combination of Western European and African beliefs. It is important to note that blue ceilings are not isolated to the southern United States – they are found in many countries. But in the U.S., they are highly concentrated in the South.

Other perceived purposes have emerged for haint blue, including the common misconception that it will repel insects because they perceive it as sky or water, a theory which has been largely disproven. Experts believe bugs used to steer clear of things painted blue because early shades of haint paint contained lime, which repelled the critters.

These wasps were not deterred from building their nest on the haint blue ceiling of my grandparents' house.

Today, most blue ceilings and trim are just stylistic reflections of the once purpose-driven decor, but in the United States they remain distinctly Southern.

G.R.I.T.S.

Last week I made a day trip to Greensboro, NC where (among other places) I visited used-book store called Edward McKay. While browsing the Southern authors section, I happened upon a book I knew I just had to have – The Grits (Girls Raised in the South) Guide to Life by Deborah Ford.

It’s a basically a handbook for Southern gals, though the author emphasizes that one does not have to be raised in the South to be a Grit. One can become a Grit. It reviews all that your momma shoulda taught ya about being a true lady.

Let me emphasize that my intention in buying this book was not to study how to be a Grit, rather to satisfy my need to understand how time and place dictates acceptable social behavior.

I have always been interested in this, but my interested was further piqued by the discovery of a Vogue book of etiquette (published 1941) in my grandparent’s house earlier this year. Upon discovery, the book earned a permanent place in the living room during our visit, where passages of the book were read aloud by various members of my family. We all had a laugh at what nowadays seem ridiculous rules, dictating the proper attire for various occasions. (Of course, it IS common knowledge that one should never wear a felt hat whilst riding sidesaddle in a hunt. Only three-corned hats are acceptable for ladies.)

Now, the Grits book is not outdated (copyrighted 2003), but some of the customs  seem odd to me. One in particular sort of grossed me out – seasoning an iron skillet.

‘Seasoning’ is the process of applying layers of natural oils to a new skillet in order to to create a nonstick surface. Enhanced over time by repeated use, the seasoning not only keeps food from adhereing to the inside of the pan but it also imparts a rich, unique flavor to whatever food is cooked in the skillet.

The skillet is coated with layers of bacon fat or lard and cooked in the oven on low heat for several hours. This process is repeated several times to achieve ‘seasoning.’ It seems to me that leaving a coating of animal fat on a pan – which is not to be scrubbed or soaped – would be unhealthy at the least and a breeding ground for bacteria at the worst. Nevertheless, I’ve eaten plenty of Southern cooking at this point and haven’t been sick, so it must be OK. Still, I don’t like to think about it too much.

Aside from skillet tips and recipes, the author offers up “pearls of wisdom,” including:  “If you can be ready in less than thirty minutes, you probably shouldn’t be leaving the house at all!” As someone who wakes up less than thirty minutes before I leave for work, it’s a suggestion I’ll take with a grain of salt. The author also writes that a lady should never leave the house without makeup. It seems like this is a lot of time to devote to what is essentially a lost cause – the heat and humidity in the South melts makeup and frizzes hair, so unless a lady is inside at all times, she’s going to end up looking a hot mess anyway, right?

Proper attire is also discussed, though the author doesn’t touch on what to wear out at night. I could have used this advice last weekend when, the day after my trip to Greensboro, I returned to see a band play at The Blind Tiger, where I was seemingly the only female not wearing a dress. Let’s get this straight – first, this place was not fancy, in fact it was kind of dive-ish, and secondly, I am not at all opposed to dresses – in fact, I am wearing one right now. I just didn’t know dresses are considered standard dive bar attire.  Another mistake I made, according to Ford, is drinking out of a beer bottle.

I guess Ford would say I’m tacky.

tacky\ ‘ta-kē\ adj: A colloquial term used by Southern women, describing a flagrant display of poor appearance. ex: “Did you see the hat Darla wore to the funeral? It’s just too tacky to talk about.”

Oh, so much to learn! But I’m enjoying every minute of it.

For a taste of Grits lessons, click here to read an excerpt from the book.