Food Tradition in the Low-Country

Growing up in the poor south my family couldn’t afford summer trips or visit a vacation home. But we spent our summers together and always had “good eatin”. Food was a primary way my family would express their love. In Gullah-Geechee fashion what you ate was determined by the seasons. Fall and winter called for food that would stretch because “ain’t nobody got time to be cooking everyday”. My grandma would often make her pots of chili or her neck bone stew to last a few days out the week. That food was hearty and was meant to “stick to your bones”. Summer months however was all about festivities and making food for entertainment. Adults would buy beers to accompany their low country seafood boils. The kids would rip and run down the street, stopping for a thrill to cool down. And we all joined together as family and friends for those special summer cookouts.

Savannah is a small coastal city in Georgia. And if you were to ever visit you would quickly realize its New Orleans little sister. "Savannahians" know a thing or two about seafood. We absolutely love it. I was cracking crabs since I was four. My grandma and I would walk a couple blocks from our house to JOJO’s, a seafood shack. The seafood shacks in Savannah were often owned by Asians, causing them and us, the black community, to form a bond through food. When you entered the shack, you could smell the seasoned blue crab. My grandma would order a dozen male blue crabs, a couple pounds of garlic shrimp, and a cup of conch because she knew that was my favorite. When we got back home the adults would cover the table with newspaper and dump the crab and shrimp in the middle. Grandma would make her special cocktail sauce for the shrimp. Once everyone got to the table it was time to dig in. We would sit around the table cracking crabs and jokes. Afterwards the adults would play cards and drink on their beers. The other kids and I would play outside in the summer evening.

You can’t have a proper summer without cookouts. Cookouts were an easy way to get family and friends together because “no one says no to food”. Our cookouts combined the all-American barbecue with soul food. Not only did we eat the traditional hamburger and hotdogs, but trays of baked mac n cheese and collards were also prepared. However, the grill was the throne of the cookout. Being the man entrusted to grill was a rite of passage. People are serious about their barbecue down south, everybody is convinced that their husband, dad, father, or second cousin has the best barbecue in town. So, grilling comes with a lot of pressure. My uncle would have a special rub and sauce for his meats, as a result his barbecue had a signature taste. It was one of a kind. Til this day he has never revealed his ingredients. But a good substitute is Randy’s off Wheaton. It’s a hole in the wall but something you must experience if ever in Savannah. Of course, the cookout sides were also important. You wouldn’t want to come to the cookout empty handed, so most would prepare a dish from home. What everyone is to bring was usually discussed ahead of time. But if someone accidentally brought the same dish as you, you would want yours to be the best. This happened to my mom a few times. She once brought her banana pudding to a cookout. Someone else also made a banana pudding causing a minor cookout showdown. Because of southern hospitality nobody says anything, but the tension is thick. Which dish does everyone prefer? Who must embarrassingly take a full pan back home? Luckily, my mom makes her banana pudding a little differently than the traditional vanilla wafers version. Mom adds a little more love to her banana pudding. Based on her pan getting cleaned first, we could say she won. At another cookout my mom baked a Mac n cheese, and someone brought a KFC Mac n cheese. Of course, they were immediately disqualified since they brought the fast-food version of a stable cookout item, unforgivable. Cookouts were the place to see the new baby, cha cha slide, prove you inherited your moms’ cooking skills and most importantly enjoy good food.

The thrill lady is a profession that contributed greatly towards my childhood summers. Most of the ethnic areas had a summer thrill lady. The woman would stock up on an inventory of hotdogs, chips, sodas, candy, pickles and most importantly thrill products. Neighborhood children were her biggest clientele. Her business would boom during the summer since all the kids were out of school. As a kid my best friend and I would stay outside all day. Savannah summers were always hot so the best way to cool down was with a thrill. Everyone wanted a thrill. We would buy a thrill and stick out our tongues to show off the color. You would want to buy the thrill that would dye your mouth the most. The blue(more than likely blueberry) was the most popular thrill. The thrills would range from 50 cent to a dollar depending on quality. All thrills were made by freezing Kool aid and sticking a popsicle stick through it. But the best thrills had fresh fruit added inside like pineapple and strawberries. The fresh fruit would cost you extra, luckily everything was still cheap. You could get a thrill, hotdog, and chips for two dollars or less. As a child that was perfect. It also helped working moms, like mine. They were able to rely on the adults in the neighborhood to help with us little ones. The thrill lady was one of those adults. She always made sure the neighborhood children had food to eat.

Through food my childhood summers created fond memories of family, friends, and community. I can still smell the smoke from my uncle’s barbecue. I remember my grandma showing me how to crack open crabs. And I can still taste those sweet summer thrills. As I’ve gotten older things have changed. However, these traditions I still hold dear, they will forever represent my childhood summers.