True Grits: Southern Cuisine Part 2

Last time ... on Breakfast at Tiffany's ... hushpuppies. Tonight, the most Southern of all Southern foods: grits.

Vincent Gambini, Joe Pesci's character in "My Cousin Vinny," summed up most Northerners knowledge of this Southern dish in two sentences: "Sure, I heard of grits. I just never actually seen a grit before." Needless to say, grits is/are singular and plural, as in: "Y'all want some grits," or "Gimme an order of grits with them eggs, sugah."

There seems to be some confusion about grits. They are not Cream of Wheat. Ugh. That's neutered grain. They are more similar to polenta, although not as course. (At least it is corn.) With grits, the hulls are removed from the corn kernels before grinding. Polenta leaves the hulls on. And the Italians think they are so civilized. Ha. It's like those weird people who leave the skins on their french fries.

There's even historical evidence that grits are actually older than polenta in this summary of "what are grits?":

Now, a better question would be what the heck is hominy, because that’s what grits are made of and if you're going to try to speak our language, you might as well get your facts straight. Hominy is the dried kernel of corn, after the hull and germ have been removed. Hominy is a native American food dating back at least 5,000 years, and was one of the first foods the Indians gave to the colonists. (The Italians, by the way, only got their corn meal for polenta by way of the Indians and colonists, so grits has at least a 4,500-year head start on polenta.)

To make grits, the dried hominy is ground — generally to one of three grinds, fine, medium or coarse -- and simmered with water or milk until fairly thick. Quick grits (a very fine grind that has been pre-steamed) are available in supermarkets, but any good Southerner will tell you that old-fashioned stone-ground are the only real grits (doesn't mean they don't buy and make quick grits, just that they know what tradition is all about).

Like with most foods, people have their grits preferences. Some people add only a little butter, with maybe a dash of salt and a few shakes of pepper (the official BaT style of grits preparation). Some people throw in some cheese, cleverly called "cheese grits," while others mix them with scrambled eggs, equally cleverly called "eggs and grits." A few souls add sugar to their grits. We call these people "children." Any grown-up adding sugar to his or her grits should immediately be assumed as the type of person who also takes aspirin by melting them in sugar water -- or to be a Yankee, neither of which is considered an honorable thing.

Some people prefer their grits "a little stiff," which means they can be eaten with a fork. Others prefer them "a little runny," which requires a spoon. I'm bi-grits here, as I can go either way. However, a word of caution to y'all visiting from "up there": The grits at Waffle House are beyond stiff. They are what we politely call "dry." Unless you catch them right after there made at Waffle House, they won't be worth eating because they've been "settin' aroun' " for about "half a day." Try Cracker Barrel; they do pretty good grits there. (Another word of caution: Cracker Barrel is for eatin' after Sunday morning services; Waffle House is for eatin' after Saturday night drinkin'. This is very helpful advice. Write it down and avoid embarassment -- or arrest.)

Most important, grits are a side item. They are NOT a meal. Furthermore, they are not exclusively a breakfast item, although that's the most common time you'll see them. Thanks to a few fancy cooks up in the Low Country (i.e., the Carolinas), there's a fairly popular menu item nowadays called Shrimp and Grits. I highly recommend this dish, especially for grits novices.

And there you have the nitty gritty on grits.

P.S. If you really want to impress someone down here, throw this line in at the appropriate time: "Grits is groceries, and sugar don't belong in cornbread." They'll forget for such a few seconds that you talk funny and wear your hair weird and might slip up and show you the secret Southern handshake. And if they try to tell you it's "grits ain't groceries," tell them to listen to that Van Morrison song a little more closely next time.