Eating Southern

My grandmother never ate out much. Mamma would hit a Hardee's from time to time, and mostly the one she knew best: on that certain street in Clinton, North
Carolina.So I didn't really know her dining-out habits. But I grew up in the South when Hardee's and other chain restaurants were coming into vogue. I've always eaten out,
without giving it much thought. And almost always in the South.And the experiences vary. And I'm not talking about those chain eateries with the neon logos and laminated menus with professional photos of the entrees and
desserts. What I'm talking about is the mom and pop joint, the places where people dine with a purpose. The places where they go after church.
Eastern North Carolina is know for its vinegar-based pork barbecue. It should also be know for its picnic-quality eateries. Homespun cooking. The clientele that
isn't out for cuisine; they're out to eat and "catch up" with folks.They're used to paper napkins, an ice water and hush puppy kickoff to the meal, some silverware tucked in a waxpaper sleeve. It's even money on who's going to
get down to business pretty quick, and who's going to socialize for a half-hour before even ordering the first sweet tea.The person who waits on your table is most likely to be female, and there's no way to guess from the parking lot if she'll be old enough to be your daughter, your
mother, or your grandmother. You might even see a combination of all three working the dining room. If it's a guy, he's going to be young. (Note: the Parker's
Barbecue phenomenon in Eastern North Carolina seems only to hire younger fellas to wait tables. Nothing, as they say, is impossible.)
After you've given your order, it's time to look around (if you haven't already) and see who's in there along with you that you can talk about. The food you've
ordered is typically fried, so you've got a good 15 minutes to gossip, update tabs on folks, critique the other guests. This has always been the most uncomfortable
part for me. And I'm from the South. If you happen to make eye contact with a stranger, they're going to look away. That's because they were either talking about
you, or planning on talking about you. It's easy to feel left out in this situation when you're not a regular. Even if you look like them, talk like them, stroll around
with your hands in your pockets like they do, you're still not one of them unless they "know your folks."
The food isn't tricky. Fried chicken is always on the menu in the South. And fried fish. If there's barbecue, and there will be, it will go right along with the coleslaw
and potatoes (fried, stewed, or mashed) and green beans. On Sundays there will be an extra meat on the menu. (Another note: buffet-style joints will be
addressed later on.) Pies'll be served by the slice, and will always be touted as homemade. Only thing is, that could be somebody's "home" in Wisconsin, which is
actually a factory, but it's home to these pies.God help the vegetarians in the South. I hope they like potatoes, green beans, and pie.Double bless the folks who are dieting. They're stuck with potatoes and green beans.You'll also be given a double gift of breads. Both hush puppies and rolls. And there will be butter to put on the rolls. And the hush puppies. There's tabs of butter
flowing out the back doors of these places, so don't feel like you're being greedy with it. It's polite to have as many as you can.The tea also flows like there's no tomorrow. Try to order sweet, but unsweetened is OK. Coffee on the other hand is always a roll of the dice. If it's not breakfast
you're having (and we're not having it right now, as you can see), there's probably not going to be a pot on the burner. Southern folks drink tea after breakfast.
Maybe a cup of coffee in the afternoon, but definitely not at lunch. And if you are lucky enough to get your daughter/mother/grandmother waitress to fetch you a
cup, it's just going to be that one cup. Take all the butter you want, but there's something weird about you if you want more than one cup of coffee.
Now that you're done and you've had your pie, it's either time to talk or stare at folks some more, or beat a path out the door. You'll pay on the way out. They
don't take cash or credit at the table, stuffed into those big-billfold-sized leather flaps. The lady at the register wants to know how your meal was. She really does.
She'll have no way of knowing if you enjoyed your experience if you just tuck money or plastic into an impersonal billfold. Besides, they sell candy bars next to the
register.