Southern fried tradition

From my column at the Erie Times-News

At some point in the 1960s, my mother's family -- Mom, Dad and six children -- left their Virginia home in the heart of Appalachia for someplace more metropolitan in search of a better life. Grandma waved goodbye to the farm (Grandpa had moved a few months earlier) to the tract of land that other family members shared and moved to Dayton, Ohio. (a snap of a Southern meal)

But trust me, they brought Virginia with them.

I grew up noticing the little things: the twang with which my Grandma said "wrench" instead of "rinse," the dutiful gardening of her blackberries, the annual predawn trip to pick strawberries, the way my mother's accent would creep back when she spent too much time with the relatives and, of course, the food.

Fresh, clean, wholesome. My grandmother's kitchen evaded the tide of insta-bake, microwaves and dining out. If she knew of health fads, she ignored them, keeping the lard next to the stove until a few years ago.

My mother, in turn, raised my sister and me to appreciate fresh foods. Corn just tastes better after an hour of shucking. Mashed potatoes have more taste when they're not from a box. Fruit from a farmer's market looked better than the piles at grocery stores.


Home-cooked meals were just that, created from (mostly) scratch, not reheated or microwaved. It was about flavor, not convenience.

Now, I live on my own, and I can't say that I always follow my family's advice. I'd rather nuke something boxy-looking than spend an hour concocting the perfect meal. But I still appreciate the good stuff. It's just that I haven't found the good stuff -- yet.

Yes, I know that every Thursday, vendors sell fresh items at Griswold Park, but that's only for a few months during the workday.

I have to wonder: What about the waterfront? Part of the image I have of coastal towns is an open-air market by the bay, where locals and tourists can purchase fresh fish or fruits and vegetables or even Erie-made souvenirs.

When two other interns and I visited Pittsburgh this past weekend, the Strip District fascinated me. Vendors sold fresh food in little stores dotting what was formerly an industrial district.


I know that if I could stop by a market on my way home from work during the week, I would.

It'd make my family proud.