I took my totally Yankee husband to a diner in Montgomery Alabama once. He told the waitress he had never had grits. Imagine our surprise when it was served up to him by the chef and all the waitresses and attendants stood around and watched him take his first bite. Then they all applauded!
It was in Montgomery that I ran across my first slice of Red Velvet Cake.
He had his “right of passage.”
The best grits I’ve ever had were while visiting a friend on a farm high in the Blue Ridge. They weren’t store bought but from corn grown on his farm and ground at a nearby mill.
My first experience with grits-—We were driving down south and stopped in a restaurant in KY or TN for breakfast. Grits came with the meal. I poured cream and sprinkled sugar over it thinking that’s how it was eaten. It looked like white Malto Meal. The waitress came by and said sweetly, “You’re from up north ain’t ya”