It also shouldn’t come as a surprise that what was eaten was fried, came with a side dish or two that were also fried, and that I washed it all down with the champagne of the South–sweet tea. I pretty much consumed a variation on this theme for the entire week.
Now, before y’all start gettin all judgie-wudgie, let me just say that I was channelling my inner Paula Deen. I was in a part of the country where you can order food like this and nobody’s gonna give you the stink eye. In fact, had I ordered something “healthier” (i.e veggies, fruits, grains–basically anything from the lower section of the food pyramid), it might’ve been considered an insult to the chef. The grouper, shrimp and oysters were to die for and the hush puppies are so tender it’s criminal.
I realize that poor Paula is having her share of health/celebrity/diabetic/hypocrite issues and my heart goes out to her. My southern-fried cholesterol-laden heart. We all have to pay the piper eventually–I will likely be on a strict diet of Benecol, Cheerios and statin drugs for the rest of my life.
Can I get cocktail sauce to go with that?
Today is National Peanut Butter and Jelly Day. In honor of this occasion we suggest that you dip your PB&J in pancake batter, fry it up and dust it with powered sugar. Do it for Paula. You can start your “oatmeal only” diet tomorrow.