Reading Michael Pollan’s books, Omnivore’s Dilemma and Botany of Desire, makes me want to stop eating corn and all that involves corn. Which is just about everything other than vegetables, rice and wheat. Oh sure, I can find grass-fed beef, but I can only afford it maybe once a month. It’s dairy, specifically cheese, I can’t do without. And no, goat cheese doesn’t totally fill the void.
I’ve been on numerous diets over the years, and if they ever said “And you’ll have to give up cheese,” I was out of the room. Chocolate, oh, ok, for a while. Fried foods while living in the South? I’m up to the challenge. So I’m thinking I can give up corn and everything made with corn, including high fructose corn syrup, corn-fed beef, pork, and chicken, condiments, all prepackaged foods, popcorn at movies, and if I could figure out how to keep from putting 10% ethanol gasoline in my Prius, I’d do that, too, even though that doesn’t qualify as eating. But then grits occurred to me.
Once I was in a college class, Multicultural Education. We classmates really got along so we decided to have a farewell party at the end of the semester at one student’s lovely home in the Albuquerque Valley. We would make it multicultural in honor of the subject, and in Albuquerque that was going to mean a lot of great Mexican food, but there were also Germans, an Italian, and thankfully no one from Ireland (I hope I never see haggis, since my food philosophy is always to try what you haven’t seen before). Well, I’m not Hispanic, nor German nor Italian. Truth be told, I do have Irish in my background but you know why I didn’t want to own up to that in this context. I come from white trash, to be honest. Po’ on both sides. I was the first woman to attend college from either side of my family. My mom was the youngest of thirteen kids and they lived in a barn during the Depression. You can tell it’s not tragic for me, but a source of pride. So, when I’m thinking about a dish that represents my culture, I’m thinking something Southern, something humble, …..grits! For a party? Why not? Garlic cheese grits is one of the easiest dishes in the world to prepare. It barely qualifies as a recipe, with only four ingredients. They are, in descending volume order: grits, grated cheddar, butter, and garlic salt. Grits are just a suspension system for butter and salt, so adding the cheese is a natural extension. I took a beautiful casserole of garlic cheese grits and it was the hit of the party.
Those folks had never seen grits, can you believe it? Evidently, although grits are a tier in the Southern food pyramid all by themselves, only slightly smaller than the fried foods category, Texas is the furthest West they go. They asked me “Is this ‘polenta’? I’ve always wanted to try polenta!” “No, it’s not polenta, it’s grits.” “Is this cheese souffle?” “No, Honey, that’s just grits.” One delighted sampler sidled up beside me holding a bowlful of grits as though it were an offering to a deity. “Whatever this is, if I could just have a bowl every time I felt bad, I think I could go on!”
So, in spite of corn’s devious plan to make us all into corn (you are what you eat, and farm, and buy), I cannot give up the lowly grit. I won’t cook them often, just at holidays as a side for ham and then as the favorite leftover, but every time I’m traveling and see grits and sausage on the menu for breakfast, I’ll be too weak that early in the morning to pass it up. And if that helps corn take over the country, I’ll be sorry, but that’s the insidious power of the lowly grit.
Er, haggis is Scottish. I am sure that the Irish have come up with some food atrocities, but haggis is not one of them.
The Irish were smart enough to come up with single malt whisky. And Guinness, which is a meal unto itself.
My mom learned to cook grits when she married my dad. Cheese and garlic make us happy… Now I’m hungry.
Oh, Ms. O’Grady, I deeply apologize. I think I knew that! I think I knew that haggis was Scottish, and beer and corned beef and shortbread are good things and they are Irish. To be honest, I’ve been told that my ‘Irish’ background was ‘Scotch-Irish’, so I feel like I have insulted myself. Thanks so much for setting this straight, and please accept my apologies!
I have to tell you folks who have read this far just how funny Glenn Smith is. I sent in this article, and told him that I had not found a picture for it and maybe needed to cook up a batch of grits and take a picture myself, since I was worried that if I pilfered some picture of grits I found in Google pics the National Grits Council would come after me for using one of their stock photos. He replied, “I’ve been itching for a fight with the National Grits Council. Bring it on.” I really like this guy.
I’m glad to read that grits have some redeeming qualities. I grew up in WTX and therefore west of the grits/hash browns line of approx I-35. My first excursions to ETX came with the then mysterious grits on cafe breakfast plates much to my consternation (compounded later in the day by sweet tea). I learned quickly to ask for hash browns and unsweetened tea. Some morning when feeling adventurous I’ll have to try your version.
I’m a recent fan of Pollan’s writing and haven’t yet read Omnivore’s Dilemma, but Botany of Desire doesn’t spend much time on corn agriculture. It will make you think twice about potatoes, though. The recent PBS documentary was terrific.
As a big grits fan, myself, I can appreciate this particular diet dilemma. I’m not sure I’m up for the task of giving up my hot grits w/ butter and tabasco. Since moving from Louisiana to Texas, I’ve missed having grits on every menu in some shape or form. Bring in the grits, Texas, and be damned the genetic engineering of this particular corn offender. I’ll give up just about anything, but like Ms. Saxon, I AIN’T lettin’ geaux a ma grits. So there!
I grew up on the I-35 line (almost literally so, as my grandparents had to sell off part of their farm for the widening involved in building I-35 over US-77 near Gainesville), but nobody in my family’s household ever served grits (or even knew what they were, except by reputation); I ventured my first taste some time in my 30s (and noted that they tasted somewhat like polenta). Texas even then had the oddest mix of cultures.
Grits / polenta — same thing, except in Italian cuisine you seldom see white cornmeal, it’s usually yellow.
Buy yourself some Lamb’s Stoneground cornmeal.
Make yourself some of the best grits you’ll ever put a spoon in:
bring 2 cups of water to a rolling boil
stir in 1/2 tsp salt
stir in 1 1/2 cups cornmeal
bring back to a boil.
reduce heat to simmer and cook, stirring, until thick and creamy — may take up to 10 minutes, but usually will be 5-7 minutes.
turn off heat, stir in 1/4 cup heavy cream. Let stand 2-3 minutes.
Serve hot.
Going shopping now…..