The American South has always escaped me. Growing up in the Midwest, most of my experience with the South involved highway rest stops on the way to and from Florida for summer vacations. There were trips to North Carolina as well, along with the occasional day trip to neighboring Kentucky, but the deep South and its culture didn’t even exist on the periphery of my own American identity as a kid. However, in 2011 I moved, to Texas, and everything changed. (Texas, and my surrogate hometown of Austin specifically, is not the South. Texas has its own distinct history and culture, but as a state of transplants and people looking to start anew, the South has most certainly made its presence known to those who call Texas home.)
Although I was mostly oblivious to Southern culture, minus whatever I retained from multiple American history classes, along with watching bootleg versions of Song Of The South in high school, it was Southern food that felt completely foreign to me. After a few years far below the Mason-Dixon line, though, not only have I learned to love dishes completely unknown to me as kid, but I’ve also found new appreciations for foods that I’d only ever experienced in their own diluted forms in the North. This might seem like a greatest hits list to some, but for me, these are the foods I learned to love and appreciate.
1. Fried Chicken
Flickr/Pat Tanumihardja@N06/
Out of all of the foods I’ve come to love after leaving the North, fried chicken is by far the one I had the most prior experience with—fried chicken is everywhere, and it’s done well by passionate cooks across the country. Some of the best I’ve ever had was at Harold’s, a Chicago institution, perfect in its own right. However, during my first trip to Austin, a friend and I stopped on the way at Gus’s in Memphis for lunch, and nothing was the same after that. The juiciest, spiciest, most flavorful fried chicken I’ve ever had, Gus’s lightly breaded chicken was my jumping-off point for real Southern food, and it was a delicious one at that.
2. Cornbread
Flickr/Nic McPhee
Cornbread might seem like a simple thing, but when it’s at its best, it’s so much more. Yet, the importance of cornbread, both for utility and sustenance, is something that those in the North quite grasp. I grew up enjoying cornbread as an occasional treat, slathered in butter and/or honey, but I considered it nothing more than a novelty, a way to change up the pace at our family’s dinner table.
Go to any Southern potluck, cookout, or pitch-in and you’ll see a pan or two of cornbread on the table, never trying to steal the show, but always waiting in the wings. Whether you need to thicken a bowl of gumbo or you just crave a bite of something sweet after your fourth piece of fried chicken, cornbread is always there for you.
Unlike the cornbread I grew up with, the Southern varieties are driven by texture first and foremost. Often times the cornmeal itself is coarser, which provides a more rustic, homemade sensation when you bite into your first or third slice of the meal. And though the cornbread of my youth was solely an oven-baked loaf, the best southern cornbread almost always starts out on the stovetop, in a hot cast-iron pan that (at least in theory) has been passed down from generation to generation to generation. The crispy, almost fried crust that you get from the hot skillet is what gives southern cornbread a distinct look and sound, almost as if you’re opening a gift whenever you cut yourself, or a lucky guest, a slice.
