Remember when I told you I am not a picky eater? Well that wasn't always the case. Mama's from the south. I grew up eating and loving all sorts of southern staples. I loved catfish and hush puppies, black eyes peas and boiled peanuts, and even succotash. The one thing I didn't like was grits.
I can't explain my childhood aversion. It was probably textural. I used to hate yogurt too. Although, I'd eat oatmeal. I remember the first time I ate grits and liked them. I was in college on a trip south with Mama. I don't remember what little cafe we were at. I'm sure Mama does. It was in Columbus, Georgia and I think it was near a little bed and breakfast my family liked to stay at, the Rothschild-Pound House Inn. But I do remember two things about breakfast that morning:
1) I had cheese grits and eggs. The cheese made all the difference. Or maybe it was the other thing I remember that made the grits taste so good.
2) The cook came out with her big booming voice and gave us the most stunning performance of "Amazing Grace." She was part of a traveling gospel choir and I don't remember how Mama got her to come out and sing, but it was incredible. I think everyone in the place stopped eating to listen to her sing.
But back to the grits. Whether it was the cheese or the song, I now sometimes get a craving for grits. And I make them for myself. Like this week. I had to have grits, and I've had them for breakfast all week. Now I eat them without cheese. I'm sure the thought of that is going to drive Mama nuts.