Come On In

 

Last night I asked Mr. Moon if he would like to go to Bradley's country store today to get some real grits and maybe some sausage. Bradley's is a tiny little place way out in the country which has been owned and operated by the same family in the same location since 1927. They sell sausage and jellies and jams and preserves and old-fashioned candy and things like that. 
Anyway, Glen said sure, let's go! And this morning he asked if I'd like to start our little day date by eating breakfast at the Waffle House. 
I said, sure and off we drove into another cool, blue sky day. The Waffle House in Tallahassee is one exit away from us on the interstate which is about a mile from our house and it takes less than ten minutes to get there. When we parked, I saw that poster in the window and I had to get a picture of it. You will note that the Waffle House is open 24 hours, Christmas and New Years and you can bet your ass people will be there, eating breakfast steaks, eggs, toast, and waffles, a goodly number of them on a variety of possible substances, just celebrating the holidays. The Waffle House will welcome them in and serve them whatever they want as long as they do not get rowdy or rude and that's the way it is. 

Our server at the Waffle House today was wearing a name tag that said, "Mama Kim." She was not having a good day. I don't know what had happened to cause her to be off her game but she told us she was and she did forget a few things. The Waffle House is a place where I definitely do not try to chat-up the employees. They are far too busy to have a conversation with a customer. They are there to work turning those tables as fast as they can because every table means another tip (hopefully). But they are generally friendly and jokey and something interesting is always going on. 

After breakfast we drove out to Bradfordville which is in some of the prettiest country in north Florida. I hate to admit this but the truth is- a whole lot of that land used to be plantations. It's a real conundrum for me because although I love the woods and fields (now mostly used for quail hunting), the whole area is tainted with the knowledge that it was cleared and worked by enslaved people. 
But most of this country was built on the backs and the bones and the blood of enslaved people of one sort or another and that's just the truth. Even knowing all of that, the land can be appreciated for what it is, what it was before the Europeans got here. The indigenous people did a lot of cultivation here until we took their land away from them and we have to consider that too. 
It's so damn complicated. 

Well. So we got to Bradley's and dammit- every ecru person in three counties and two states was crammed into that tiny store, lined up to buy sausage and lined up to pay for it. Most of these people looked like what I would call Country Country Club folks wearing expensive boots and jeans and sweaters and all gussied up in Christmas accessories. Let us say that they probably all know their way around horse stables and dressage is not a foreign concept to them. 
Hoo boy. 
I had to leave. Well, I did buy two bags of grits because that's what I really wanted. 
And then we were out of there. 

Here are the instructions on the grits. I call them "real" grits because they are coarse-ground and take an hour to cook. 

I don't actually know people who cook their grits in chicken broth and cream regularly. Most of us just use water and salt. Maybe add some cheese. 
Now if I'm making shrimp and grits, I'll get fancy with it. 

When we got home, Glen took off to go to a basketball game and picked up Levon on his way as he had an extra ticket and by some mysterious determination, Levon got to be the lucky one to go. 

I know he was happy to be with his Boppy. He likes basketball, that boy does. 

It's been an emotional day for me. I had heart-tugging dreams before waking up this morning. The kind that you may not remember exactly but the feeling they give you is deeply rooted in memory and perhaps issues that you've never fully worked out. Well, that's what happened to me. I've been dreaming lately about a time of my life I really thought I had long since gotten over and completely forgotten. Guess not. Silly me.

But also, and possibly even more of a trigger for me, was getting this picture this morning. 

Owen drove himself to work. With his mama in the car too, of course. 
No. No, no, no. 
I am not ready for this yet. I'm just not. 

And the universe laughs and laughs because it does not matter in the least if I'm ready or not. 

My beautiful boy. 

So I dealt with my blues this afternoon by making a soup and some bread of course. I got some venison cut up for stew meat from the freezer in the garage, and thawed and browned that with onions and garlic, carrots, and celery. I added stewed tomatoes as well as leftover okra and tomatoes and all kinds of mixed greens from the garden and frozen corn and green beans. I'll be adding the frozen baby peas here in a few minutes. 

The bread I've made has a good amount of leftover mashed potatoes in it. It's not sourdough, just regular bread. I feel like such a dumbass in not figuring out for so long that my yeast was too old. 

Here's what the dough looked like when I started this post. 

And here's what it looks like now. 

Yes. My oven badly needs cleaning. I'd rather not talk about that. 

In the meantime...

Love...Ms. Moon