Hey, Grandpa! What's Not For Supper?
According to the Associated Press, health officials are having conniption fits over the South’s stubborn allegiance to artery-clogging fried and fatty foods.
True, many Southern restaurants now offer salad bars and menu items tied to popular diet fads; but the infamous “greasy spoon” diners still command a loyal clientele. Northern activists worry that “meat and three” means “meat and three jolts from the defibrillator.”
Of course the obesity-enabling eateries are popular because Southerners have been trained by their mommas (bless ‘em) to eat fatty foods. Mommas feel like failures if their children don’t clean their plates when gobs of buttery foods are served. Mommas compete to see whose child is the first to marry a heart surgeon as well as the first to need a heart surgeon. (“Ha! That poor undernourished Williams boy needed only four pallbearers!”)
Mommas do encourage their young’uns to eat more fresh fruits and vegetables, but the desire to aid a good cause often stands in the way. Fruit may turn up only in lard-laden fried pies prepared by the ladies auxiliary. The auxiliary has quite a self-perpetuating racket; they sell the pies at estate auctions, thereby creating even more estate auctions.
Predictably, Southerners defend their tastes with anecdotal evidence. (“Great-uncle Hezekiah ate sausage and gravy three meals a day, and he never had no stroke. He broke his neck when he slipped on the grease oozing from his pores.”)
Southerners feel backed into a corner by the Northern Food Police. Where the most overheard phrase at church socials and picnics used to be “You simply must give me your recipe,” it’s now “You simply must remain silent or anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
Health officials have sent nutritionists into communities to indoctrinate Southerners about healthier cooking practices. They teach simple lessons, such as “Give a man a fish and he’ll eat for a day. Teach a man to fish, and he’ll eat for a lifetime. Teach a man to fry that fish, and he’ll eat for a short but happy lifetime.”
The nutritionists face an uphill battle because the public is tired of researchers issuing contradictory health warnings. Southerners cover their ears when medical journals release an ever-shifting series of reports about Good Cholesterol, Bad Cholesterol, Misunderstood Cholesterol, Cholesterol With Anger Management Issues, Alternative Lifestyle Cholesterol, etc.
Persistent doctors are able to get promises of better behavior from their patients, but patients are always looking for loopholes. After his seven bypasses, my father agreed to eat country ham only on special occasions, but with the understanding that “any time I get country ham, it’s a special occasion.”
On the TV show “Hee Haw,” Grandpa Jones used to answer the question “Hey, Grandpa! What’s for supper?” with a mouth-watering list of decadent Southern dishes. In this era of baking and steaming, he would probably reply, “We’ll serve up whatever your little heart desires/As long as it’s cooked under truckstop bathroom hand driers.” Yum yum!
Health officials err if they think resistance is purely a matter of tradition or taste. I suspect many good ole boys hasten their deaths just so they won’t have to listen to big city know-it-alls.
Alas, there may be no escape. (“Youse guys call these streets paved with gold? Why, back where I come from…”)
True, many Southern restaurants now offer salad bars and menu items tied to popular diet fads; but the infamous “greasy spoon” diners still command a loyal clientele. Northern activists worry that “meat and three” means “meat and three jolts from the defibrillator.”
Of course the obesity-enabling eateries are popular because Southerners have been trained by their mommas (bless ‘em) to eat fatty foods. Mommas feel like failures if their children don’t clean their plates when gobs of buttery foods are served. Mommas compete to see whose child is the first to marry a heart surgeon as well as the first to need a heart surgeon. (“Ha! That poor undernourished Williams boy needed only four pallbearers!”)
Mommas do encourage their young’uns to eat more fresh fruits and vegetables, but the desire to aid a good cause often stands in the way. Fruit may turn up only in lard-laden fried pies prepared by the ladies auxiliary. The auxiliary has quite a self-perpetuating racket; they sell the pies at estate auctions, thereby creating even more estate auctions.
Predictably, Southerners defend their tastes with anecdotal evidence. (“Great-uncle Hezekiah ate sausage and gravy three meals a day, and he never had no stroke. He broke his neck when he slipped on the grease oozing from his pores.”)
Southerners feel backed into a corner by the Northern Food Police. Where the most overheard phrase at church socials and picnics used to be “You simply must give me your recipe,” it’s now “You simply must remain silent or anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
Health officials have sent nutritionists into communities to indoctrinate Southerners about healthier cooking practices. They teach simple lessons, such as “Give a man a fish and he’ll eat for a day. Teach a man to fish, and he’ll eat for a lifetime. Teach a man to fry that fish, and he’ll eat for a short but happy lifetime.”
The nutritionists face an uphill battle because the public is tired of researchers issuing contradictory health warnings. Southerners cover their ears when medical journals release an ever-shifting series of reports about Good Cholesterol, Bad Cholesterol, Misunderstood Cholesterol, Cholesterol With Anger Management Issues, Alternative Lifestyle Cholesterol, etc.
Persistent doctors are able to get promises of better behavior from their patients, but patients are always looking for loopholes. After his seven bypasses, my father agreed to eat country ham only on special occasions, but with the understanding that “any time I get country ham, it’s a special occasion.”
On the TV show “Hee Haw,” Grandpa Jones used to answer the question “Hey, Grandpa! What’s for supper?” with a mouth-watering list of decadent Southern dishes. In this era of baking and steaming, he would probably reply, “We’ll serve up whatever your little heart desires/As long as it’s cooked under truckstop bathroom hand driers.” Yum yum!
Health officials err if they think resistance is purely a matter of tradition or taste. I suspect many good ole boys hasten their deaths just so they won’t have to listen to big city know-it-alls.
Alas, there may be no escape. (“Youse guys call these streets paved with gold? Why, back where I come from…”)
posted by Danny Tyree at 3:55 AM
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