Grits and Livermush
Anyone who has known me for very long knows I just love adventure. They don’t have to be big adventures. I can make an adventure out of finding a cantaloupe. I am also a huge fan of Jan Karon, the author of the Mitford series. I make it a point to revisit Mitford once a year, reading the whole series.
I discovered that Mitford is patterned after Blowing Rock in North Carolina, so when I came up to see my sons and vacation near Blowing Rock this week, I made it a point to visit. (I call Blowing Rock the Mountain Fairhope, the lovely little town where I live). Walking around there, I remembered how much Dooley Barlowe’s grandfather, Russell Jacks, loved livermush. It was apparently a favorite in Mitford, and in North Carolina for real. They also seem to put down a lot of Cheer Wine around there. So I loaded up in the car and set out on a quest to see what all the fuss was about. An adventure, you know.
I scored Cheer wine at Mast General Store, a historic old timey authentic general store outside of Boone, NC. Those Mitford folks know their stuff. I like Cheer Wine. I might see if there is a Cheer Wine Club and get a crate delivered once a month. That left livermush. I know. Livermush. The name does not elicit confidence. But Russell Jacks sure thought it was mighty fine.
Today we stopped for breakfast in Chesterfield, NC, at the Chesterfield Family Restaurant, and what to my wondering eyes did appear on the menu but livermush. It had to be done. We ordered eggs, biscuits, gravy, and livermush, with steaming cups of coffee. I was pleasantly surprised. I smacked it down and called it a mission accomplished. I might stop short of joining the Livermush of the Month Club, though.