the south’s dirty little secret

I signed up for a second gym membership today. That’s how it goes when you travel. After an hour or so of vigorous exercise, I was 150% certain that always having a gym readily accessible is fully worth the two separate payments. With fresh blood to my brain and my mood extraordinarily improved, I worked up a hearty post-gym appetite.

At home, rummaging through my bare cabinets (I just moved in last week; there wasn’t much to rummage through) and tiny refrigerator, I stumbled upon the South’s dirty little secret.

Actually they may have a few…

Grits.

I resent the South for keeping this from me. I beseech on behalf of everyone north of the Masion-Dixon line: Why? And I swear, when I return home, I will bring grits with me.

Fish and Grits. A dinner for one.

IMG_0591 IMG_0578

I confess, it was supposed to be a dinner for two or rather a dinner for one and lunch for that same one the next day, but the cheesy, buttery grits were that delicious.

And a brief word of advice: Eat fabulously.

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