I like my cracklin’ cornbread
eaten with a pot of pinto beans,
and a pan of salt pork cooked with
collard, poke, and turnip greens.
I like my chicken fried in butter,
served with mash sweet potatoes too,
a baked white onion pie and
slow cooked Brunswick venison stew.
I like my Mallard duck roasted
stuffed with Arkansas wild rice,
for dessert a steamed bread pudding
and orange sauce is mighty nice.
I like to pick my peaches
off my granny’s lone peach tree,
put them in a brown sugar cobbler
and have a pitcher of sun brewed iced tea.
I like to pick yellow sweet corn,
and eat it raw right off the stalk,
have dinner with friends and kinfolk,
and long summer evening porch talk.
I like my smoked bacon sliced thick,
in its grease my eggs turned over easy,
or scrambled with last falls souse,
that is if it won’t make you queasy.
I like catfish cooked in cornmeal
with coleslaw, pickles and bread,
a moon pie and an RC cola,
a shady place to nap after I’m fed.
I like….no, I love cayenne peppers,
eaten every meal fresh off the vine,
or orange habeneros and serranos,
pickled in vinegar, saltwater and wine.
I like a bowl of wilted lettuce,
fried pork chops and blackeyed peas,
a pan of milk gravy and biscuits
dipped in the syrup of wild honey bees.
I like my thick buttermilk to have
golden flakes floating on its top,
and mom’s toasted molasses bran bread
with redeye gravy in the skillet to sop.
I like my coffee brewed black and strong
in our 100 year old percolator pot,
Aunt Mabel’s cinnamon buns from the oven,
when they are still steamy and hot.
I like each year’s bounty of our fields,
a true pleasure for anyone’s mouth,
but most of all I like the way we live, love,
work, play, and eat, in the good Old American South.
Now, y’all come for dinner, ya hear?
Copyright: 2009, Donald Harbour
Charming…and evocative of my own childhood memories. My mother is originally from Kentucky, my father’s family is from North Carolina, and my late uncle is from Georgia. Damn fine food from all those parts.
My motto is “everything is better fried and with hot sauce”. Especially catfish.
Yummy poem.
The Nobleman
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now that makes me feel hungry!
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Donald my first husband’s family was from Tennessee and you have brought back some delightful memories of Southern meals with them. As for the habeneros, all I can say is ouch! Never had one until moving to Mexico and they were not pickled in vinegar. Maybe that would make a difference.:)
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Smiling with pleasure and yearning for another taste of that good down home cooking. A fine presentation!
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Oh this sounds delicious!
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this oozes southern goodness!
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no, drips! drips! drips southern goodness!
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I think I ate too much poetic deliciousness! Time for a nap 🙂
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This is just bursting with delicousness. Makes me wish I were a southerner!
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What time is dinner? It all sounds so very good.
The cadence, rhythm and pacing made this as delightful as the food you describe…
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I think my pants won’t fit after reading your poem!
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Mmmm. So much to love! Reminds me of my TX family dinners, minus the sliced maters, chowchow & cantalope. Be right over.
(Yay for all them peppers ;-))
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Full of Southern delights, Donald, what a bounteous list! And then to read all those comments from way back, wow. We go way back.
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WV, Tn and Va roots so I can appreciate most of your deliciousness here.
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We have been reading each others poetry longer than that. It has been a joy knowing you all these years.
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Thanks for saying, Donald. Poetry & poeming is a joy. Doesn’t it make you feel joyful, writing a poem?
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Yes, except when I get grumpy outlook and vent my spleen
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Aw, Mr Grump is no fun.
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Yes, I remember this charming poem, Donald. Just as nice the second time round. Thanks for sharing with us at the wwp. My apologies for the late visit, but life is very busy lately.
Pamela
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