Southern Comfort

Yum. Photo courtesy

A ten-pound cast iron frying pan,

is how the whole thing starts;

Granny’s food is heavenly,

but hell upon our hearts.

Relying heavily on pork,

she seasons what’s upon our forks;

Collard greens

and pinto beans,

Gravy, cornbread,


They start out bland,

but fatback’s grand,

for adding flavor to these things.

Catfish swim in bacon grease,

and make our earlobes start to crease;

Apple pies with crusts of lard,

 Bellies grow soft, arteries hard.

We shovel it in with Southern glee,

And wash it down with sweetened tea.

Everything’s greasy, everything’s fried,

And that’s the way that Grandpa died.

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4 thoughts on “Southern Comfort

  1. dulzimordash says:

    Reblogged this on Nature’s Abhorred Vacuum.

  2. ryoko861 says:

    The last line is priceless! LMAO!

    That’s how they go in these parts, I swear it! But everyone dies happy. :)

  3. I remember going to my Grandad’s and eating that way. My husband’s family still eats that way! Here in MissouREE it’s crappie instead of catfish and I do a happy dance when somebody hands us a gallon bag of frozen crappie.. :)

    I LOVE crappie. Catfish frighten me and they don’t taste nearly as good, but they’re a lot more prevalent around here. There are tons of restaurants with names like “Catfish Castle” or “Catfish Hole,” but there’s not one “Crappie Cabin.”

  4. mrs fringe says:

    Love this! :D

    Thanks, Mrs. F!

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