Order Issue 103
The South has diversified over the last twenty years. And so has my palate.
Cooking with Chris. As a kid, I was allowed to eat one egg per week. Mom fixed eggs on Sunday for a meal eaten at indeterminate times, dependent upon my father’s hangover. We ate late, often past noon, after being hungry for hours.
Potlikker, the soupy leavings at the bottom of a pot of greens or beans, is now vogue.