Blood and marriage are reason enough to gather on the hottest day of the year to celebrate family, for no other reason than that. It's the Southern Way.
On a canvas of conversation broad-stroked with laughter, the fizzy flit of flies joins a threatening purr of bees to fill the air with contented sounds of Summer. I can almost hear the ants creep and crawl. Though unwanted guests, they’re expected. Today they will feast.
It's a crying shame my eyes are bigger than my stomach; no restaurant on the planet can match the spread covering a mile of mismatched, cloth-covered folding tables. It's fine dining in the most fulfilling sense of the word…scrumptious and diverse and laden with secrets. Unpretentious and under-appreciated, it strikes me that beautiful doesn't have to be fancy.
Unearthing buried treasure from their gardens, my relatives produce bowl after steaming bowl of butter beans and butter peas and baby limas and black-eyed peas–and it takes a discerning palate or being raised in the South to understand the differences…to even realize there's a difference!
There are always two or three dishes of macaroni and cheese, three or four potato salads, and one of each is always better than the rest; I wish I could remember from reunion to reunion. Instead, I get a small spoon of each, and if Murphy is in the house, the biggest serving is my least favorite. Regardless, I'd eat them all not wanting to hurt anyone's feelings, 'cause—good gravy!–the dish's cook could be sitting right next to me! Graciousness and good manners are also the Southern way.
It's 96 degrees in the shade and I can hear the creak and groan of the handle as it's cranked. Wood and aluminum, rock salt and ice, there's treasure at the end of this cream and sugar rainbow, and we covet it more than gold. Eager to help, cousins stand in line to wait a turn to churn, not realizing it's work. The grown-ups don't let on; they smile inwardly and cheer outwardly, knowing in the end, it'll take a pound of elbow grease to finish this frozen magic.
I don't understand how a wooden barrel and a hand-cranked mixer can produce The Best Ice Cream In The World. This is the only time I'll eat fruit in my ice cream; strawberry is fine, but peach—ab-so-lute-ly luscious! It’s done when just a tad thicker than a bonafide milkshake. Perfectly spun and mixed, taste buds cheerfully applaud taste and texture. Did you know there’s a “best” way to eat homemade ice cream? Place a spoonful in your mouth; close your lips around it as you slowly extract the spoon; squish it to the roof of your mouth, then let your tongue “chew” the fruit. Teeth only get in the way.
Moppin’ sweat and swattin’ flies don’t both bother a soul and talk about the weather isn’t small, it’s good conversation. History is preserved in the oral tradition as well-worn laundry is re-aired, and embellishments aren’t just tolerated, they’re expected. Children wear grass-stained knees and dirt-caked nails, and though mamas complain, they wouldn’t have it any other way.
A summer’s day eases into a symphony of invisible crickets and bullfrogs. It’s music I don’t care for but in which somehow I find comfort. It’s the perfect note to herald the day’s end.
This is my childhood legacy, a gift from my mother long lived after she was gone. Tradition that shaped me. Family who loved us in our presence but mostly in our absence. The Southern Way, a banquet of savored memories and moments…not just of food on the table, but of life seasoned with people and places that forever feed our soul.
And it's where dessert is a bowl full of magic and rainbows :).
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Hugs & smooches to my BFF Paula Deen for sharing a link to this post with her followers on Twitter (Here first, then here with the correct link). If you're visiting due to her mention, won't you come again? Subscribe to me in a reader or have PENSIEVE delivered to you with a free email subscription (see left sidebar) and I shall be forever in your debt. Or something like that ;).
I saw your teasing tweet last night about the post you loved writing, and have concluded this must certainly be it. I’m not from the south, but you southern writers are starting to make me wish I was. The sweet traditions of food and family seem to be magnified under your summer sunshine (and heat!).
Beautiful post. I’m wishing for just a sampling of that ice cream now!
You’ve just described my childhood, and brought a tear to my eye for all the sweet family who’ve gone home.
Love it! Not from the south, but I think I’ve read too many books about the south, because it felt familier to me. 🙂 Your writing made me feel like I was there.
How DO you write in poetry like this? It’s the kind of rich storytelling that made me want to grow up and become a writer.
Sometimes I l a b o r over a post and it's nothing but a pile of frustration; this time, it took a while (I began it two weeks ago), and though I wasn't "trying" to finish it quickly or go in any particular direction, it kind of did itself. And when THAT happens? I just enjoy the process. You're right, this IS the one I mentioned last night…so thankful you were paying attention :). BTW, your comment? It's almost poetic! 🙂
Oh, Dawn…I know what you mean. Losing those we love is the lousiest part of life, but it makes us appreciate the time we have with them (and those still with us!) all the more. I'm so thrilled you could identify…I was hoping this would resonate with some of my Southern extended family ;). xo
It takes one to know one (or something like that). Writers like YOU inspire me to write like "this". I wanted it so to honor a way of life, a life which is in itself, lyrical. Suddenly, I'm thinking about Pat Conroy……..:) (Thanks, Carmi…such kind words from you!)
I am not from the south, in fact I am far away in New Zealand, but I absolutely loved this post. So well written I could almost smell it. Although I have no idea what a baby lima is!
You painted this so vividly I’ve started saying y’all and suddenly crave black-eyed peas.
It takes a certain writerly skill to turn a northern boy southern with nuthin’ but words.
Thanks for such a delicious taste of the south. I took a spoonful and squished it to the roof of my mouth…
This post is a little slice of homespun heaven. My friend, I actually felt like I had whipped out my very own checkered blanket, laid it down in the shade next to your family and piled a plate high with Southern delicacies – and no, I most certainly don’t know the difference between all the bean dishes you mentioned.
I could eat potato salad every day of my life and the ice cream sounds divine.
I just might have to invite myself along to your next reunion.
Your writing is magic!
Gosh, Stephen, reading your comment I'm thinkin' I should've titled this post "A Delicious Taste of the South"; I'll think on that a bit :). BTW, have you converted to sweet tea? Cause that is a definite requirement for becoming a Southerner, although some would argue the same for tomatoes, and I would have to politely disagree.
Dan-yelllllll, sweetness is POURING from your keystrokes. Thank you!!
Conversion to sweet tea commencing shortly. I agree on the tomato disagreement. (And, hey, did you notice the poetry of my last two sentences above? This was in honor (and remembrance) of your famed (and missed) PPL.
I’m from the North, but we had times like this, too. I wrote a similar post last summer, also extolling the virtues of homemade ice cream. 🙂
http://jeniallen.blogspot.com/2008/07/lightning-bug-nights.html
The Southern Way is it’s own unique culture. Reminds me a line from that movie “Sweet Home Alabama” ~ “People need a passport to come down here.” lol
My brother-in-law, who now lives in Illinois, was lamenting the church potlucks up in his neck of the woods. He said Southern church potlucks are far better than the ones there.
And now I feel like crashing someone’s family reunion!
My mom is the oldest of 13 and my grandma is the oldest of 7. When my great-grandma and her family used to get together in the park for her birthday when I was a kid, it was JUST LIKE THIS.
My goodness, the memories.
I cranked the ice cream. I remember cranking; I remember tasting. You brought it all back for me. I have pictures from those days in the park, but there’s nothing like having someone bring all those memories to the forefront!
I’ll be forwarding your post to my sister. And maybe a cousin or aunt or twenty. Love you bunches!
Robin!
I heart this post. Takes me back to 50 years ago making homemade ice cream on my grandma’s back porch.
I grew up in the midwest (illinois) but summer family reunions have a lot in common no matter where you are from.Just substitute fresh sweet corn or three bean salad for black eyed peas, and it’s probably not a lot different.
My mom used to joke about one great aunt who would bring a head of lettuce and a paring knife as her contribution! LOL!
Keep writing. You are gifted!
My mama was ninth in a family of ten children and a big part of my childhood summers was the family reunion…more cousins than I could handle and more food than we could eat! A tradition from my husband’s family…making boiled custard and then churning it into ice cream. A laborious process but well worth it! I feel sorry for anyone not from the South. 🙂
Thanks for sharing. You could write a novel, you know. Your writing has such an authentic Southern voice, like Faulkner, M. Mitchell, and F. O’Connor. Btw, I could always tell the “best” potato salad, because my Granny Bertha would sprinkle the top of hers with paprika. Her red velvet cake was also a must, lying on the Dixie plate next to that ice cream, soaking up the dissipation. I miss swinging high enough to make mom yell and sliding down that shiny metal slide, making sure only the seat of my britches touched it on account of the heat it was giving back up.
Mmmm, yummy post, Robin! My favorite flavor of homemade ice cream is banana. It’s been 30+ years since I’ve had it on my mother’s family farm in Arkansas. Thank you for taking me back to let me taste it again. Divine!
I have memories of sitting on the old churn — cold it was, with an old burlap bag between me and the ice. Dad and my older brothers, occasionally an uncle visiting — churn churn. Taking turns with my sister freezing our little butt, the ice cream was the best ever in the world. the best. ever.
Robin you really painted a wonderful picture, I felt I was there eating that ice cream. I love to read about family gatherings because it’s not something my family do in any regular way.
I v a g u e l y remember that line–it DOES bring a grin & a nod :).
Lisa, I DON'T have pictures but dagGUM I wish I did :/. I wonder which of my relatives do…surely SOMEONE was taking pics! Isn't it fun strolling this kind of memory lane? It makes me smile to know I've led a few bloggy friends down this path :). And **if/WHEN** you forward this post? THANK YOU! I loved writing it, so I'm thrilled for it to be shared w/people who'll get it!
Kaaaaaay! So glad to *see* you again; thanks to Twitter for giving us reason to cross paths.
I'm v e r y curious about the boiled custard into ice cream recipe; my in-laws have a friend who makes boiled custard, and it's dangerously delicious! Feel free to ship me a pint when you get a chance ;).
Mike,
Hey Chris!
Exquisitely written, Robin! I felt like I was there; the imagery was so strong.
All of it made sense to me…I’m a southern girl too.
THis is my favorite post ever, Robin!!
You paint a beautiful picture–and the crickets you mention? I really really wish we had them, they’re such a part of summer and we don’t have them here.
How lovely. This post takes me back to the hills of Arkansas of my childhood, and the mountain folk who loved me for no reason other than I belonged to them.
Love, Love, Love this!!!
From one Southern gal to another MWAH darlin’
I just read the homemade ice cream and reunion post ad cried and felt and smelled every moment. THANK YOU> I need to put a family reunion together NOW! not to wait for someone else to do it and HOPE they do. My daughter NEEDS these memories and mother passed away at age 93 and she loved these times of year. My daughter deserves this too.
THANK YOU< THANK YOU, Thank you.
Forgot to mention I was sent by Paula Deen’s twitter as well. It is a great new way to share the world in 140 characters or less.. LOL
Oh, Jenni…thank you! You used one of my favorite words in your comment…..can you guess which one? The imagery was strong because the memories are that compelling.
Mishi………it's #2 on my list right now 🙂 but THANK YOU!!! BTW, you need to link YOUR favorite post to the post I have at the top of my page right now. I am LOVING reading these things!!
I'm smiling, Michelle, because babydoll, if I could ship 'em to you, I would! We've got more than our share and I swear-to-goodness–they reproduce faster than rabbits!
I’m a yankee married to a southern boy, but have lived in ‘da south for more years than I have lived in the north so I’m sorta southern now. I do know the difference between those peas and beans now. I say to my DH, you say butter beans, I say lima beans—>lol–been to a few pig-pickin’s so I can “see” your picnic clearly. 🙂
I do have a homemade ice-cream story–my husband (before we were “hitched” –>southern word) had some of his guy friends over while they were studying “or something” and decided to make his FAMOUS vanilla ice-cream. He got his old trusty ice-cream maker out and away they all went churning, icing, salting, churning away. Finally, the finished product–guys of course would be so excited for something SO homemade but they were polite and waited until the host had his. They all “partook” of the magnificently creamy concoction at once and simultaneously all spit it out–unbeknownst to DH there was a teensy little leak in the canister and all that salting seeped in–He said it looked so gooood. Someone asked if he had thrown a slab of bacon in there–tee hee–now that would have been truly southern (lol).
Robin, I have to admit I felt a bit smug when you said you hadn’t been to a reunion like this in years, since I’ve been to THREE already this year!! Every time I go, it makes me want to tear up with family pride. Hubby does not understand it, as his family rarely goes to their reunions. It is a MUST on my Daddy’s side; for the fellowship, food & music. Our dessert has never been ice cream, just a good ol’ nanner pudding& 13-layer chocolate cake (just to name a few), followed by some of the best bluegrass you’ll ever hear!
Let me know when you want to come down to South Georgia and join us!