Friday Fun Read - Where I Come From by Rick Bragg

 Finally Friday and you need a frothy, light read. Where I Come From (Stories from the Deep South) by Rick Bragg is a hoot. I've reviewed some of his work before, and I laughed my way through this whole collection. 

As a damn Yankee gal from PA, I've been in Texas (the south) long enough to appreciate his terminology.  

Cover blurb - From his love of Tupperware to the decline of country music, from the legacy of Harper Lee to the metamorphosis of the pickup truck, as well as the best way to kill fire ants, the unbridled excess of Fat Tuesday, and why any self-respecting Southern man worth his salt should carry a good knife (that's Ray - plenty to choose from in our house), Rick Bragg's stories crackle with tenderness, wit, and deep affection. 

These are short essays full of humor and descriptions of great food. After his short dissertation on New Orleans, I was ready to climb in my car and seek out his po-boys, Creole sauces, and gumbo.  

It's Friday - fry up something, pour a lot of white gravy on top of it, savor the drippings, and kick back with Where I Come From. Read with an honorary drawl and sip sweet tea.  Enjoy!

Book Review - My Southern Journey by Rick Bragg

My Southern Journey by Rick Bragg is a collection of his essays (predominately featured in Southern Living Magazine) that are homespun, funny, poignant, and will strike a chord on all fronts.

He’s a native of  Alabama and his regional spin is often a salute to his mother. Of course he’s obsessed with football, bass fishing, mayonnaise, gospel music, and storytelling. He learned to tell stories by sitting on many a front porch.

This book is easy to dip in and out of, fresh as a summer breeze after a rain. I laughed out loud at times, and chuckled throughout reading it. His turn of phrase is a drawl in the best way.

Here are some of the essay titles – For a Vegetable- I’ll Have White Gravy,  Requiem for a Fish Sandwich, Traveling Food,  Your First Oyster, Bad Slaw, Happy As a Pig, The Fine Art of Piddling, and When Fireworks Go South.

From the introduction, as he was trying to be writer in Manhattan: There was no room or time to mosey, to dawdle. No one came here to piddle or loaf. Even the drunks, it seemed, had somewhere to be. But what I would have given, right then, for one more dinner on the ground, fried chicken sweating in Tupperware, deviled eggs under wax paper, and pineapple pudding under glass.

If nothing else, this book will make you hungry. His descriptions of meats frying – that sizzle of pure grease, desserts with whipped cream dolloped on top, and heck yeah, that extra slice of pie.

Go on a stroll with Rick Bragg – join him in My Southern Journey. Sit on a patio or front porch with a big glass of lemonade and while away the afternoon with this darn good book.