Miss Imperial is now a done deal.
Here are the entries
you might have missed over the past year.
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02 November 2006

"She couldn't help thinking..."

University District, Seattle, WA, 07-Oct-06

"...that there
was a little more to life
somewhere else."

PF commented this evening that I might have been Southern in a past life, if only because of my love for the food. I wouldn't have thought that so many of the dishes I enjoy are tied to such a specific section of the United States, but there they are: fried chicken; chicken fried steak; mixed berry cobbler; pecan pie; country ham; grits; barbecued pork; catfish; corn bread; okra; and, of course, biscuits and gravy. This sense of my hidden history is possibly diluted by the fact that I also love Southwestern cuisine, particularly the New Mexican variety. Good thing I married a man with a grandmother from Tennessee and a family that lives in Albuquerque. Too bad I can't stand sweet potatoes.

Is the way to a Southern woman's heart through her stomach? If so, I would be an easy catch. After all, PF
said what he said because we were watching a television program demonstrating the art of biscuit-making, and suddenly I was very hungry. I kept repeating the word "biscuits", slowly and drawn out, like a zombie with a taste for breakfast.


pf said...

you drool over biscuits, yet you're ambivalent about sopaipillas UNLESS you can get them sprinkled with confectioner's sugar (or stuffed, which i can't hold against because that part LOOKED SO GOOD).

i'm just sayin' - you should look into those sopaipillas. they were invented in the ABQ!

Anonymous said...

After all, it was a great big world... I remember you gradually adopting a slight drawl the deeper we drove into the South, like it was taking you over. Maybe your centuries-old soul recognizing its birthplace?


Miss Imperial said...

PF: I love sopaipillas! They're basically fried dough! No, wait - they ARE fried dough. So I love them. I just don't love honey (the traditional sopaipilla condiment).

/a: Somehow I knew that the mere reference to "American Girl" would bring you round, like some sort of Bat Signal without the visual. (I know there's a better analogy for that, but I'm off-the-cuffing here.) Seriously, though, if you thought my inexplicable, Madonna-esque accent was funny when we visited Memphis, you should hear me after a visit to New Mexico (particularly after meeting with Mr Pinkston and Grandma Charlotte). Well, actually, maybe you shouldn't.