Grease: The New Beer

I just got back from The Flying Fish, a lovable Little Rock establishment dedicated to southern-fried gluttony. I went with two friends, Juice and Richard, and after an hour or more of stuffing our faces full of goodness we got into a conversation regarding the glory that is southern homecookin'. Unfortunately, Richard is not from The South. He is a Kansan and therefore inferior in ways of the flesh. Juice and I, being Southern by blood and birth, felt it was our duty to enlighten our young charge.

Upon our table sat plates of hushpuppies, coleslaw, frog legs, catfish, shrimp, oysters on the half shell, tartar sauce, and pickled green tomatoes; a veritable smorgasbord of edible joy. After completing our meal with the reverence it deserved, the drunkenness began. This is a special intoxication that only worshipers in the House of Hushpuppy understand. The perfect hushpuppy is small, the size of a large kumquat. The size is important as it is imperative that the grease seep deep into the pup. The middle of the pup must be shiny and moist and when you pop the pup into your mouth, grease should slide to the back of your tongue and the top of your throat before any swallowing occurs. This provides the perfect level of slickness to aid in the slow digestion of the pup. It's a science, truly.

The hushpuppy grease, mixed with the crispy fried goodness of the frog legs/catfish/shrimp, creates a feeling of wellbeing akin to the perfect level of drunkenness. It's beautiful, heartbreaking. Every pore of your body rejoices as grease slowly replaces the blood in your veins. Every half-second you feel the pulsating of a happy heart as it joyously begins the work of keeping your fat-soaked body alive. People wonder at the slow speech of Southerners, the almost-laziness of their lives. This is the truth, my brethren, we are a loved and lovable people who know the beauty of perfectly fried dough, the power of perfectly buttered grits, the tear-soaked joy that accompanies the discovery of a kitchen stocked with oleo, karo, rotel, and okra. It is a beautiful life, and too short to be lived without a deep fryer.

*All this being said, and perhaps for this very reason, I am a Weight Watchers member. In the past month I have lost 9 lbs. Hopefully, by the grace of God, the Flying Fish did not completely screw me over. Oh the woes of food and fashion...