Cuisine of the Southern United States | The Recovering Legalist

I’m American

Just sitting here at a ball game, watching my little girl hit a run-scoring double, and thinking, “It’s great to be an American.” Of course, some may disagree, especially those in other countries who don’t let girls play softball, or even show their faces (no offense, Bin Laden…no, wait, you don’t care anymore, do you?). Nevertheless, I feel a great appreciation for the blessing of being born in the United States (I even have a real birth certificate).

I’m Southern

I also have a love for the Old South. And because I am a true Son of the South, I maintain a particular preference for a drink rarely served in other parts of the world…iced sweet tea.

It’s only a preference, mind you. I can enjoy my tea hot. I quite often, if not regularly, enjoy unsweet tea. I can even drink it out of dainty cups or plastic jugs (must be my moonshine heritage). However, two things have to be present in order to make my tea consumption a magical, patriotic, caramel-colored celebration of leaf-juice perfection…

Ice
A Mason jar.

There is no wrong or wronger way to drink tea. The English have their fancy ways, as do the Chinese. But what makes drinking tea right, at least from a Southern perspective, is not just the temperature: it’s the addition of frozen cubes of water walled ’round by a jar meant to preserve food for future generations. That’s pure Southern cuisine.

Preference Identifies

Again, this is all about preference. If I were not a blood relative of someone who died while wearing gray, it would not be strange for me to prefer tea with cream and cookies. On the other hand, my preference identifies me. My preference hints at where I come from. My preference links me with others who love iced tea. My preference helps confirm my birthright.

Should it be any different for a Christian?