Posted on 11/27/2003 5:00:56 AM PST by Cincinatus' Wife
It's Thanksgiving. If your family is anything like mine, a few people are loosening their belts or unbuttoning their pants to breathe easier while eating an unnatural amount of food in one sitting. The most self-aware eaters just admit their gluttony and wear sweat pants with elastic waists to the feast.
Everyone clamors to heap the prized dish, the family favorite you look forward to all year, onto already full plates. It's that special recipe passed down through generations - a creamy vegetable casserole, fluffy pumpkin bread, homemade applesauce.
Or baked cheese grits. Yes, you heard that right. In my family, the dish we never seem to have enough of is baked cheese grits.
That was especially true when my dad's side of the family used to gather in Ohio each Thanksgiving. As the oldest grandchild, I squeezed myself in at the adult table in my grandparents' dining room, mostly because I didn't want to miss out on anything interesting they might have to say.
Plus, I wasn't keen on watching my younger sisters and cousins spit food at one another at the kids' table in the kitchen.
The downside to this seating arrangement became evident each time I went for another helping of grits. My granddaddy, a big, boisterous man, always was watching. And he never missed a chance to broadcast to everyone, "Looks like Colleen's going for more grits!" or "How many grits is that for you? Two? Three?"
A little embarrassing, but it didn't stop me. These grits were worth it.
Thing is, I have never met anyone else who includes this dish as part of the Thanksgiving meal. I don't know if anyone outside my extended family even has this random recipe. And that's a crying shame, because it really is too delicious not to share.
So I thought, in the spirit of giving, that I would do just that. This, of course, required calling my dad in North Carolina for details because he's the one who typically makes the grits in our house.
"You're not going to put this in the newspaper are you?" he asked. "This is a family recipe!"
Sometimes even a journalist's parents don't understand that when we call people for information, most likely we want to put it in the paper. Fortunately, he was kidding. Both of our mouths started watering as he began describing from memory how to prepare what we call "cheese grits" for shorthand.
As with most old family recipes, the explanation was laced with tidbits of personal history. How after my grandmother stirred the milk, butter and grits in a saucepan until it boiled, she always took them off the heat and beat them for five minutes. She thought that technique made them softer.
And how she didn't even think about beating the grits until after they developed the texture of Cream of Wheat, an important distinction she noted specifically on the copy of the recipe she wrote out for my dad. (He apparently ate a lot of Cream of Wheat as a child and knew exactly what she was talking about.)
The grits are then poured into a baking pan to cool. At this point, you cut them into squares and stack them like fallen dominoes. Then you pour enough melted butter and shredded cheese on top to make dietitians everywhere cringe. Warning: This food definitely will raise your cholesterol levels.
Bake the dish for about 30 minutes or until the cheese starts to boil and, voila, it is time to make your stomach very happy.
Even Yankees like these grits. That's the case with my mom, who still bears a Massachusetts accent after 20 years of calling North Carolina home. She never laid eyes on traditional Southern grits, the soupy or lumpy kind from the box, until she became a reluctant Tar Heel.
But now here's what makes my family's baked cheese grits even more unusual. Until last week, I thought the recipe came straight from my granddaddy's Kentucky hometown. I mean, the man would get into arguments for dibs on his favorite leftover.
Dad noted, "It was fine as long as there were two pans, and there better be some left over for him. He protected them like they were gold." That explains his announcements to all within a 5-mile radius as to who was responsible for the depleted supply at Thanksgiving dinner.
Turns out the recipe didn't surface until Aunt Betty, Granddaddy's sister, left Kentucky and settled in New Britain, Conn. This wasn't my great-grandmother's recipe after all. For all we know, Aunt Betty might have gotten it off the back of some old grits box!
So there you have it. Baked cheese grits, the perfect blend of one family's own Southerner-goes-New England heritage. The melt-in-your-mouth delight I will eat too much of this Thanksgiving and then vow never to put such strain on my stomach again.
At least, not until Christmas dinner.
- Colleen Jenkins covers courts and social services in Citrus County. She can be reached at 860-7303 or cjenkins@sptimes.com
One fiesty Hellmann's fan allowed that:
Miracle Whip is the Cheez Whiz of white spreadables. Put a bowl of it in your yard and the bugs and animals won't touch it. In West Hollywood they use it as a "personal lubricant".
Yummmmm. Good ole Florida cracker meal.
Now you're talkin'!
...and I still haven't heard so much as a Thank-You!
*Sigh* I remember mom's Sunday Breakfast. 12 different platters including fresh baked items and everything else dipped or fried in lard. I remember the crackling sound that filled the kitchen. Sadly, that was our arteries, but it was good eatin'...
You ought to try spicing them up with ground red pepper and Mahon or Manchego cheese!
ROFLPIMP!...I'll never forget that bit of info., when I make a sandwiches :))
hahahahaha! :)
PING!
Maybe this can be the start of some good holiday "my-diet-can-go-to-hell" type recipes. ;-)
I never eat grits now, after all; cream of wheat is much better, and can be mixed with milk and honey better then those incomprihensible grits.
I grew up in New England, and they know better than to eat that sort of thing generally there.
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