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.