Sweet Tea and Other Southern Goodness. . .

I was raised in the South by Midwestern born and bred parents. Though Dixieland surrounded me, my home was still very much a product of my parents' heritage though I did not realize this until years later. I grew up cheering for Bobby Knight's Hoosiers, and eating my veggies steamed. Butter beans? What are those? I grew up calling them lima beans. And, Mom was always called "Mom" or "Mommy" but never "Mama." Yes, we drank tea. I can still see my mom's jars of tea sitting in the backyard sunshine. We drank tea, but it was lacking a key ingredient found in Southern tea - sugar. We drank unsweet tea, and, believe it or not, we liked it, a lot.

Enter Erik.

I fell head over heels for this New Orleans boy, pure Southern goodness. He had a drawl, bears a strikingly similar resemblance to Harry Connick, Jr., and I think if one were to look up the word gentleman in the dictionary, there just might be a picture of him next to the definition. To say that I was taken by this Southern boy is an understatement. But, I'm going to try not to get sidetracked. Moving on. . .

I always thought adding sugar to tea was an unecessary addition of calories. But, for the first time in my life, I liked sweet tea, I really liked it. Something about sitting next to Erik on a porch swing sipping sweet tea seemed to be just about the sweetest thing I'd ever done. Erik used to tell me that good sweet tea is like the stuff they pour over snow cones - syrup.

I learned that there is a monumental difference between tomatoes purchased in the grocery store and the ones grown in his parent's garden. I had my first tomato sandwich with him - whoever heard of such! His absolute favorite meal is Cornbread (and don't insult him by making Jiffy - cornbread should not be sweet!) with all kinds of vegetables piled on top of it - butter beans, black-eyed peas, green beans, cream corn, etc. You can always throw a tomato in - he loves those. Oh, and then for dessert - Mississippi Mud Pie, Chess Pie, or simply a slice of watermelon with salt sprinkled on it will do just fine. And, molasses, he loves thick, sticky, ooey, gooey molasses on a biscuit. I don't care how adorably cute he is, I still can't stomach that one - not even after 8 years of marriage and 3 children.

When I finally had the awesome privilege of becoming his wife, I had to learn to cook all over again. Vegetables are to be cooked for hours, never steamed, never crunchy, always tender. They are best either from a can or bought fresh in a farmers market and cooked slowly, very slowly. And, gravy, I have yet to master this one. We didn't make gravy often at my house growing up. So, this has become Erik's job. Now when we visit my home for Christmas or Thanksgiving, my mom calls Erik into the kitchen to make the gravy. She has given him the illustrious title of "The Roux Master." Between Erik and Cecilia (my brother's wife) my family has truly changed. We even had Cornbread dressing at Thanksgiving this year. I had no idea what I was missing all those years! Southerners know how to cook. I didn't say it was healthy, but it is good.

And, Southern boys. . . I love them. Gentlemen. And, every now and then I see a glimpse of the South in one of my sons. Joshua will say something with a very evident drawl, and I will smile to myself. "Mama, I bumped my he-ead." He loves cornbread and homemade biscuits with strawberry perserves on them. I think the first two words he put together were, "Yes, Ma'am." And, just yesterday he held the door open for a complete stranger at Wal-Mart. (The only problem was that it was the bathroom door, and I was gagging as I watched his freshly cleaned hands touch the door. But, in the name of good manners, I kept my mouth shut and let him do the polite thing.) I am raising myself a little Southern gentleman. And, I love it. There really is no place on earth that I would rather raise my boys.

And, now the little story that made me sit and contemplate all this. . . As we walked our daily walk around the neighborhood the other day, Joshua said, "Mama, I want to name the horses." (There is a family that lives down the road from us that has 8 horses roaming their land. 4 of the horses are brown and 4 are white.) I said, "Sure, honey, go ahead and name them." He thought for a moment, and then very confidently declared, "The white ones are named Sugar. And, the brown ones are named Sweet Tea." I smiled to myself as I looked down at my little Southern Sweetheart. And, I felt my heart swell with a little good old Southern pride.

The picture above is of the land that the Sweet teas and Sugars usually roam, but unfortunately they were in the barn today. I don't blame them. I am not sure what happened to spring, but it is feeling a bit like winter around here lately. . .