SG | It has taken me 40 years to admit this — or maybe not so much admit as to simply realize a fact — but I can't really figure out barbecue. More specifically, the sauce. If I had grown up in North Carolina, it would be all too clear: I would either foster a... Continue Reading →
CG | What is “The South” – capital T, capital S – and how do you know when you’re there? Elsewhere on the blog, we’ve talked about the “Pine Straw Line,” and I’ve heard low rumblings in regards to a “Sweet Tea Line,” but surely one of the truest indicators of Southerness can be found... Continue Reading →
SG | I recently read an essay by a nervous Southern transplant to California. I believe he was from Georgia. (I would love to link to it, though it's been lost to the perpetual scroll of my browser window.) Said Southerner was doing quite a bit of hand-wringing over a perceived erosion in his accent.... Continue Reading →
SG | The other day I rounded the corner to the front yard to find my five-year old daughter determinedly sizing up a Japanese maple tree. She had her climbing shoes on — that is, any foot covering ranging from flip-flops to rain boots. “Daddy, can you clear this tree for me?” she asked, matter-of-factly.... Continue Reading →
The Incidentalist 