God help me. I have gone native.
Today I had a craving for…deep-fried grit cakes.
Don’t get me wrong. Can’t abide grits in standard grit form. But there is a local place called Lucky 32 that makes deep-fried grit cakes, smothered in tasso ham with this garlic cream sauce and fried onions that makes my toes curl.
I think I’m still okay. As long as I don’t wake up jonesing for sweet tea, or god forbid, deep fried okra, I’ll be okay. (Yes, I say y’all, but in fairness, I have done that ever since my high school Japanese teacher pointed out that y’all was a very useful plural pronoun with no other English equivalents. Mind you, I do it a lot MORE these days…)