Why Ask Why?

Peggy's Diner Wrens, Georgia There are certain dishes that are staples in the Southern Diet. One of the cornerstones of the Southern Breakfast is the simple dish of Biscuits and Gravy. For those of you who have never made this entree, the biscuits are the hard part - but not THAT hard. The gravy is made from a combination of flour, grease (from sausage, bacon or just about any other meat), a little water and some seasoning. That's it....not really anything more than that. When Diane and I first moved to Georgia, we looked for a simple place to have breakfast - a Mom and Pop kind of place where you quickly become a regular. The kind of place where they see you coming in from the parking lot and your coffee is waiting at "your" table when you sit down. The kind of place where you can forget your money one day and they figure you will just pay them tomorrow when you come in....In my life, I have known many of these places...in Dallas, Arizona and elsewhere across the country. The first stop in the quest for just such a place was to talk to Jeff, the guy down at the local feed store. He has distinct opinions about things like this....places to eat....the weather...the government....gays....women....you name it, the guy has an opinion. I felt he could be trusted in his suggestion of Peggy's Diner, at the corner of US Highway 1 and Georgia Route 80, in Wrens, Georgia. Driving past Peggy's would make you believe that the food, the ambiance....something must be good. There are constantly cars in front of the place. This was going to be great! A place, just like what we had hoped for....and only 5 miles away! The first cause for alarm SHOULD have been the smell emanating from the place. I assumed that the stench of rotting trash pervading the parking lot must have come from the recent rain getting into the dumpster. I really didn't give it a second thought....oh how wrong I was. Upon entering Peggy's, I noticed that something was a little "off", although I couldn't put my finger on it immediately.....the seating....was...now, mind you that this was 2005....segregated. Whites on one side and blacks on the other side. As we stood there, trying to figure out where to sit, the lady pointed us to a table over in the "black" section. It seems that it is an area reserved for not only blacks, but for anyone who is an "undesirable" - a list which also includes (one can only assume) Mexicans, Middle Eastern Terrorists....and folks who did not have Wrens-area roots running back to the Civil War. Taking our seat on the "darkie" side, we waited....patiently...for the waitress to stop gabbing with the overall-clad, fat farmer on the "white" side. Waiting....waiting...waiting....the story must have been a good one! As the waitress laughed at whatever the punchline to the story was, she made eye contact with us across the room. Her expression went from smiling and laughing to a look I can only describe as contempt - within 2 seconds. Seeing as how I was not one of her cousin's brother-in-laws (singular cousin, plural brother-in-laws), I obviously was going to be an inconvenience....that whole "taking orders" and "serving food" thing thing just didn't seem to be what this woman wanted to be doing just at that moment. Grudgingly, this woman made her way across the room - gaining more and more contempt for us with every step. By the time she reached our table, she was downright adversarial, "What you want t'eat?" Until that moment, I don't think that I had ever pissed anyone off just by offering to pay them money for a service. She was smacking gum. Diane and I had stumbled upon the Anti-Flo! I didn't want to cause any trouble in the place, so I figured we would just order, eat and leave. "I just want an order of biscuits and gravy with a cup of coffee." Simple enough - or so I thought. "Look, we aint got no biscuits and gravy," she replied in the most protracted tone possible. Huh? This is the South, right? I quickly looked down the menu to see if they were actually offered and the kitchen was just out...or, the unthinkable thought that Peggy's kitchen staff doesn't know how to prepare them....The Score, Biscuits and Gravy:1, Peggy's:0. I shouldn't be suprised. The actual act of taking an order was taxing even the strongest Peggy's waitress, how could I expect them to mix....flour...grease....and water.... Hell, that is three ingredients! Ingredients which can be found in any traditional southern kitchen... I tried to make sense of it all. How could this be? You cook bacon or sausage on a stove, you get grease - the foundation.... Then it hit me. They don't cook sausage on the stove....When all you do is warm up Sam's Club food in a microwave, you don't have the raw ingredients for biscuits and gravy.... Where did we, as a society, go wrong? And this is....I assure you....most wrong. We are going to have to have a word with Jeff at the feed store about this....of course, I think that his cousin is no other than the famous Peggy herself. The search continues.

Circus Stars

The Question Let me start with a hypothetical: Have you ever met a person who was so ugly that they made you...mad? If this sounds like a harsh question - it is. I am not talking about unfortunates who have had accidents...nor am I talking about your run-of-the-mill ugly person...what I am talking about is a whole league of ugly that makes you upset with that person for even showing themselves in public. I am sure that to some aborigine in the bush somewhere, I am about as ugly as ugly comes. But this is America, we have rules (at least we should) about who can and can't go out in public. Harshness reigns supreme in this grotesque world. When Diane and I first moved to Georgia back in the late winter, I wanted to give her the total tour of my youth. We headed up to the mountains of western North Carolina for a chilling weekend of adventure. Little did I know that the chilling adventure was only going to get downright creepy on the way home. Dusk was falling as we rolled into the little hamlet of Livonia, GA - at the intersection of GA Rte 17 and I-75. Ahead I could see the sign for Shoney's....from my youth, Big Boy and all...the food was good as I recalled. The Introduction Let me state for the record that the sign "Kids Eat Free" should be avoided by adults traveling alone - at all possible costs. Georgia it seems, has become the home of the loud, fat, whiny, obnoxiously spoiled child. These kids throw food, whine about everything...generally behave in such a way that would have caused my mother to drag me outside by my ear and administer a little non-politically correct punishment. In short, I would have gotten a "whoopin". These parents, in comparison, think that little Johnny/Janey are so cute when they act out whatever it is that they want to do. I guess that throwing their food must be some sort of code for creatitivty that I am not aware of....I fear for the state of the country when these little tykes take over. The trampy hooker-wannabe who showed us to the table must have been the hostess....it is sad that Shoney's would not offer to furnish a uniform shirt for her that was not three sizes too small. Could it be that she made a little something extra on the side?....naah..."That's just how girls dress these days" was what a friend of mine once told me. I guess we had blue eyeshadow and parachute pants back in my time....okay....perhaps I should be a little less judgemental. Ummmm...naaah.... Supper is Served Supper (the evening meal) at Shoney's is served - as with 99.9% of the other places in Georgia - buffet style. All-you-can-eat is a way of life here...and it shows. The typical method is to have the hostess show you to your table, perhaps she may even ask what you want to drink. Once you have located your table, you just proceed straight to the trough - oh...I mean buffet. Diane and I made our way through the serving line which offered a complete selection of fried 'this' and fried 'that'. Keep in mind that I am from Alabama - I am used to frying things that perhaps should never see hot oil. This deep fried food bar did not scare me, although it put a lump in Diane's throat...I don't think that she was ready for the reality of Southern Fried Food. "When in doubt, batter it and drop it in hot lard." Don't Look Directly At It Upon a sucessful trip to the fried food extravaganza, Diane and I found our table began to enjoy all that Livonia had to offer - "stuff", and lots of it! That is when it happened... Seemingly out of nowhere it appeared at our table with a tray of drinks. It knew what we had ordered so it must have come into contact in some fashion with the hooker wannabe at the door. Where it originated, I won't hazard a guess...but it was as if it had stepped out of the lowest plane of Dante's Inferno. In retrospect, Diane and I think - and there cannot be enough stress on that word - that this was a she-beast. It had the body of an NFL linebacker, the hair of an African gorilla (on its neck)...and the teeth of a London cabbie - all five of them! The She-Beast put my drink down and I refelxively made eye contact, mummuring a "thanks". Oh how I will regret that moment. The She-Beast made me mad. How could this thing come out in public...especially when there were people eating!?!?! If the little fat kids could take one look up from cramming fried stuff in their plump little mouths, they would have cried and hidden behind thier momma's skirt (Lord knows she has a big enough one!) I expected to see Marlin Perkins pop out from behind the plastic plants and shoot this thing with a tranq dart. (look Jim, that is the exotic and extremely dangerous Wild Beast of Borneo...get in there and take it down!) I am locking my doors tonight because I know that this she-beast is out there...somewhere...lurking in the darkness. How can you do that to the general population? We don't need to know that things like this exist....with all the beauty that the world has to offer, there has to be something out there to balance it all out...and we found it serving food at Shoney's in Livonia, Georgia!!!! For the love of all things Holy, please get this image out of my head!!!!

Red Dye #2

I thought that those "hot links" you got as a kid that sported that totally unnatural shade of red were...to say the least, illegal to serve. I distinctly remember something from the 70's about Red Dye #2 and cancer...of course, maybe I was wrong... Coming back to Georgia (and more generally, the South) for the first time in over 20 years has led to a rather rude awakening. The Southern Food that I had promised my wife she would savor at every mealtime has vanished without a trace! Waffle House, McDonald's, Huddle House and Wretched Buffets of Warmed Over Sam's Club Food have become the norm. Gone are the days of gracious hostesses and charming chefs. The only holdover I can find is the incessant need to wrap silverware in paper or plastic sleeves (keeps the flies off). Flies, it seems, have no care whether the food is good or not...and neither do the patrons. Quantity rules supreme over quality. Back to the Red Meat Dogs: We often find ourselves in Louisville, GA (18 miles south of our house - which is in the geographic center of The Culinary Wasteland) sometime approaching normal mealtime. Broad Street Bistro, which "quietly opened" on Labor Day Weekend in downtown Louisville was the lunch (or dinner as they say here in Georgia) option we exercised today. According to the locals, Pansy's is the barometer against which all other establishments are measured. I guess that's true, but except for one "near miss", Diane and I have never been able to find it open (more about that one later). Today was no exception, Pansy's, with their WTF attitude of "closed on Saturdays", forced us down the street to the new (and I use this term ever so loosely) "Bistro". At first glance however, the "Bistro" held a moderate amount of promise...oh, what was that saying about appearances being deceiving? The restaurant space was fantastic, even (and especially) by "Big City" standards! Evidently, this must have been a turn-of-the-century store of some kind. The hardwood floors were refinished to a better than new sheen, the walls were exposed original raw brick....if the Wal-Mart purchased, 50's kitsch items hung on the wall hadn't been there, it would have had a stunning ambiance! I could have done with a little fewer freshly minted "antiques", such as the hard plastic, malt-shop tables. Okay, okay...so I am getting to the red meat dogs! Like I said, it was promising - by Georgia standards. The lady behind the counter was nice enough. She did let us know about the "Bistro Burger" which must have been made of something other than hamburger, because by her own admission it "just tastes different". Ooookay then....I opted for the Slaw Dog, mustard only - times two. I must admit that even I had a mental lapse at that very moment. How I can confuse slaw with kraut, I have no idea...and yet I did. Of course it must have been the mental vortex affecting both Diane and I evenly, because she made the same mistake...one only, with a "Soup of the Day" on the side. According to the counter lady, the soup was a wonderful tomato soup which was much better than the other option of potato soup. One thing I can say that I learned from this "Bistro" experience: look behind the counter BEFORE you order, not after! I am sure that if Diane had seen the look on my face when I saw the red hots rolling on the warmer, she would have called the paramedics...I think it is the look I would have if I ever had a stroke. These folks spent a lot of money making sure that the Broad Street Bistro was going to appeal to the demographic they wanted. The ambiance will wow and amaze so many of the patrons...I know that these ladies will get a kick out of so many people complimenting them....The patrons should hope that the pleasantly appointed bathrooms will be vacant when the meal comes. Red Dye #2 Meat Dogs, covered with Sam's Club Bucket O'Slaw, on a cold bun. The wonderful tomato soup, complete with some form of meat that Diane could not positively identify, had the distinct flavor of Campbell's Soup with a hint of dishwater. Finally, the one thing that I just positively cannot explain: a pickle spear...cut in half. These ladies spent thousands of dollars to make sure that the "Bistro" looked fabulous....and scrimped on a pickle to save $0.02. It also saved me from visiting the Broad Street Bistro again....who knows, someday, maybe Pansy's will actually be open....