Gritz

I like grits. I have always liked grits. And I'm not sure why everyone doesn't like grits. There is something about a steaming bowl with a puddle of butter in the middle that I find irresistible. Or maybe some fried hickory smoked bacon crumbled on top with a bit of sharp cheddar cheese.
It is difficult for me to fathom why some people would not be aware of the mere existence of grits. I have seen them referred to as cereal. I find such declarations appalling. When a new acquaintance informed me that grits were available in a upstate New York town, I was overjoyed. But then he told me how he loved his grits with butter and maple syrup, I realized I may not fit into local culture. My new friend was right about one thing though. Grits were available at the local Price Chopper grocery store. I found them in the breakfast cereal section in a cardboard canister with a man with a big hat on the label. Where I had been educated at Bradley Elementary School in Bradley, SC, I learned that men dressed like the one on the grits container were called Quakers.  We also learned that the Quakers settled the state of Pennsylvania. I knew that I could not eat any grits produced by anyone above the CDL. That's the Culinary Discretionary  Line that runs through middle Tennessee. I knew that I would have to write my mother a letter requesting some good old Jim Dandy grits. (I saw my cousin with a hundred pound bag of Jim Dandy dog food once.) Those would be white grits.  Grits are of two colors just like the corn from which they are made, white and yellow.
I have always eaten white grits until recently. Not so long ago we discovered our friend Butch Chastain at the local farmers market selling stone ground grits. Butch is a former airline pilot that now grinds corn into grits or cornmeal with grindstones powered by an antique gasoline engine. Using grindstones to grind grain is almost as old as time itself. Butch only grinds yellow corn so I changed my preference in grits. I can tell very little difference in taste.
I have very simple tastes in grits. I like them well cooked, slowly.  You gotta keep stirring them to keep them from sticking to the pot. My wife Claudette cooks the in the microwave oven.  They’re real good. But I can’t help remembering that they called those first microwave ovens radar ranges. Not sure I like of radar beams touching anything I eat. (I think there was something about this in the fine print of the marriage contract that allows this kind of food preparation.) Grits should gently fall off the fork much like molasses from a jug, not gritty texture and not soupy..  Salt, pepper and a bit of butter is all I require. And I like them served only at breakfast. Recently, grits have gravitated to other meals but not for me. Some of the upper tier restaurants in Charleston not serve grits cooked in milk.  And these grits are frequently covered with shrimp in gravy. Other dishes feature fried grits. The chefs of Charleston's restaurants are a competitive bunch and play a great game of one upsmanship in grits dishes.  No doubt they will soon be served with maple syrup. 

But that's not for me. 

There are things that are best the way they are. They do not need updating or changes in any way.

I feel that way about grits.

Where Have All the Gumshoes Gone?

Where have they gone indeed? I remember my first televised show about a gumshoe. Maybe I should use a more common term for gumshoe: detective.

As I remember those days of snowy images in black and white, one detective comes to mind.  And with music.  I can hardly remember Peter Gun without Henry Mancini's driving jazz beat. Craig Stevens played the private detective from which the television series got its name. Gunn was the quintessential private eye.  He had all the characteristics those following him would exhibit. There had been television detectives before but not quite as sauve as Gunn. After all, he was handsome, well dressed, and had an attractive girlfriend.  After  Peter Gun I was a big fan of 77 Sunset Strip.  Efram Zimbalist Jr., Roger Smith, and Edd "Kookie" Byrnes starred. I was developing an interest in hot rods then and was a fan of Kookie's Cadillac powered '23 "T" roadster.  I remember one show in particular. It was named "The Silent Caper". (All of their shows were called capers.) It was a silent movie, not  a word was spoken.

Through the years I enjoyed Simon and Simon, Barnaby Jones, Mike Hammer, Spenser for Hire, and the detective that made a fashion statement of the rumpled raincoat, Columbo. There were of course many more, particularly if you included the police shows. I remember the craggy-faced Lee Marvin on the streets of Chicago in M Squad. 

As I grew older I continued to enjoy the "whodunnits".  Some had a profound effect on me. As a avid fan of Magnum, P.I., I developed a taste for Hawaiian shirts and red Farraris.  I still wear Hawaiian shirts sometimes but still await my first red Farrari. In the 1980s I discovered the British detective shows on Public Broadcasting's Mystery.  At first I was enamored by Diana Rigg of The Avengers but then a new kind of detective was introduced to me. There were several that were favorites of mine.  The British have a way with murder mysteries that I fear the Americans lack.  In most of the British detective shows you rarely see the crime committed and there is very little gore. They tend to be more cerebral. Frequently, the crime is not easily solved although usually the perpetrator of the crime is seen in the first act of the show.  The British crime shows were, and still are, great.  Some of my favorites were Foyle's War, Midsomer Murders, and Inspector Lyndley Mysteries. I will forever be spellbound by Helen Mirren in Prime Suspect or the egotistical little Belgian, Hercule Poirot in Agatha Christie's Poirot. The recent Sherlock series starring Benedict Cumberbatch is a visual treat as well as having unique storylines.

But out of the over thirty-six British detective series I have watched over the years, my favorite is Inspector Morse. Detective Chief Inspector Morse of the Thames Valley Criminal Investigation Department has a keen analytical mind and a penchant for the Times crossword puzzles. His tastes lean toward English real ale and his ear toward classical music, preferably Wagner.  The sight of blood sickens him  while the sight of an attractive female allures him.  Sometimes curt and disdaining of authority, he is easily identified by his shock of white hair and his classic Jaguar Mk 2 sedan. John Thaw played the main character and Kevin Whaley his sergeant.  In the last episode of the series, Remorseful Day, DCI Morse  dies. Soon after John Thaw, the actor forever identified with this character, died. Not only did I enjoy stories in this series (I've seen most of the episodes multiple times.), I also enjoyed seeing the English countryside and the town of Oxford as well.  I am a closet Anglophile.

To relax your body and exercise your mind, grab a long-necked stout, kick back and watch  British mystery! The gumshoes have gone to the UK.