The above words are misleading, as I'm going to talk about ONE of my favorite dishes.
Our trip recently to Milford, PA, to get a car adjustment put us there at 7:30 in the morning, an unusual hour for retired folks. After the procedure was completed, we headed into town, a short mile away, and entered the best diner in the area. Searching the large menu for something besides French toast, we spied the word GRITS. Feeling a bit reckless, we order this Southern dish to test the mentality of the chef.
A single portion was enough for two, and just looking at the white lump told us to suspect real hominy-style grits. Butter on the side, no less. (Southern diners bathed their grits in butter!) Ah, what a delight! You'd thought we were in gourmet heaven! Despite the fact that we prefer sour cream with our grits (a taste sensation bar none)we rolled the mixture across our tongues in bliss. We congratulated the owner in having a chef who knew his grits.
As Roy Blount, Jr. said in "One Fell Soup":
When my mind's unsettled, when I don't feel spruce,
When my nerves get frazzled, when my flesh gets loose--
Me back together's grits.......
Now let's sing your own tune to these final words of his:
Fish, grits, and collards,
Life is good where grits are swallered.