Last September I completely went against my beloved Southern heritage and took an uncharacteristically strong-ish stand against the state of Southern Living magazine, and truth be told I felt a little guilty about taking SL to task. I have loved that magazine since I was about twelve years old, and in retrospect I think that I may have let my emotions get the better of me. SHOCKING, I know. Honestly, though, I was sort of surprised by how strongly I felt about the SL issues at hand (punny lameness, AGAIN – I do apologize). I mean, I’m not usually terribly forceful with my opinions unless I’m saying something along the lines of HEY, BLOG PEOPLE, YOU REALLY NEED TO BE EATING MORE BACON.

Anyway, after I posted about SL last year, one of the SL staff members and I had a really interesting (and very congenial) behind-the-scenes discussion, and she assured me that there were great things ahead for the magazine. So I held on to hope, and earlier this year I did what I’d told her I would do and picked up a copy of Southern Living in a bookstore. I was so encouraged by what I saw that I actually renewed my subscription. And I have to tell you: after getting the last four or five issues in the mail, I really do believe that SL is as good as – if not better than – it’s ever been. I am beyond tickled.

So, just in case some of you who were around for last year’s SL brouhaha haven’t given the magazine a second chance, I thought I’d go on the official bloggy record and tell you why I’m oh-so-glad that I gave it another try. I’m so happy that, in the end, I turned out to be FLAT DEAD WRONG and SL turned out to be, well, Southern again. And I’m not doing this because anybody asked me to write a follow-up post, OH HEAVENS NO. I’m doing this because I want to. Because I mean it. Because I may have jumped the gun a little bit with my criticism back in September. And because when somebody gets Southern right, WE NEED TO AFFIRM THEM.

Here’s what I’m loving about Southern Living (in a handy list format, at that):

- The writing these days is so stinkin’ good. In the July issue there’s a first-person article about Mississippi’s Neshoba County Fair that made me clap my hands. There’s another article about 15 ways guys can charm Southern girls that made me HOWL. There seems to be a renewed emphasis on infusing the written content with lots of personality, and it totally works because it’s so relational. We Southerners like relational, you know. We love to hear other people’s stories. And we love to hear them in a distinct, original voice. Preferably with a “y’all” or nine thrown in for good measure.

- It seems to me that there’s more home-related content than ever. Even better is that there’s a real focus on what makes the interiors and exteriors distinctly Southern. I LOVE THAT. It’s a change that makes the magazine feel like an old friend again. Another thing I’ve noticed that the featured interiors aren’t just super-traditional – lots of them err on the side of funky and eclectic. It’s a nice, contemporary change-o-pace.

- A few years ago SL started dedicating the first few pages after the table of contents to something called “Inspirations” – and it was fine. But now those pages are called “So Southern,” and they feature three or four super-easy, super-affordable ideas that you can use when you entertain or just want to spruce up your house a little bit. A couple of months ago they showed how to use old coffee cans as flower vases. It was an adorable idea, and it reminded me of something my grandmother would have done when I was a little girl. Line three or five of those down the center of a table, and you’ve got yourself a centerpiece. I bet my friend Lea Margaret has created some coffee can masterpieces already.

- The July issue features recipes for bacon pimento cheese and bacon pimento cheeseburgers. And I think that’s probably all I have to say about that.

- I told somebody the other day that in the last few issues, the word “Southern” appears on the pages of the magazine over and over again. That tells me that the powers-that-be are making an effort to remember their core audience. In July’s Letter from the Editor, I counted the words “South” or “Southern” SEVEN times. She gets it, I thought. And it made me want to go ring my cowbell and watch SEC football and fry up some chicken. With cheese grits on the side.

- My only “however” is that there is still one thing about the “old” SL that I still miss: the stapled binding. I LOVED IT SO.

So. In an effort to BE CONSTRUCTIVE and not divisive and survey the general lay of the Southern Living land, I’m just wondering: have any of y’all noticed SL’s renewed commitment to All Things Southern these last few months? Have you, like me, had an SL change-o-heart? Or am I the only OBSESSIVE CRAZY Southern Living reader among us?

It’s okay if it’s that last thing. I can handle it. I’ve also been an obsessive crazy person about cream cheese, grilled flank steak, Mississippi State basketball and, well, MY HAIR in days gone by, so I’m perfectly comfortable with the OCP label.

(And if you’ve never read Southern Living in your life, a thousand apologies for this post.)

(I’ll be back to my regular talk of fatty foods and TV tomorrow.)

(Promise.)

Judy just sent me a link to a story called “Left Brain Grocery List,” and I have sat here and HOWLED while I’ve listened. It reminds me so much of the stories my mama, my aunt and the other women in our family would tell after Sunday lunches when I was growing up.

In other words: it reminds me of home.

So I did a little Googleage, and I found out that the woman who’s speaking is named Jeanne Robertson. She has a whole CD of funny stuff, and while I’ve never met her, I can tell you right now that I adore her.

I think you will, too.

Just click here to listen.

I am a person with a widely varied and seemingly unending array of annoying qualities: I talk way too fast, I finish other people’s sentences, I let clean laundry remain unfolded for days on end, I repeat myself, I’m moody, I repeat myself, I procrastinate, I’m great at starting things but not finishing them, etc.

I also repeat myself.

Anyway, over the last couple of years I bet I’ve started twenty different books that I’ve never finished. It’s not that the books haven’t been wonderful. It’s not that the books haven’t been compelling. It’s just that I have the attention span of a four year-old who’s been hooked up to an IV of sugar and caffeine, so if I don’t HUNKER DOWN with a book and physically move myself away from all possible distractions, I’ll read 20 or 25 pages, set the book down to go fix a diet Coke, and before I know it I’ve cleaned out half of a cabinet in the kitchen and started boiling water for some something that I was planning to cook but completely forgot about because I decided that it was of the utmost importance to watch 17 minutes of “America’s Next Top Model” before moving a vase from my bedroom to the table in the foyer and then deciding to eat some Goldfish.

Well.

A few weeks ago I found out (from a book review – not from a publicist or publisher) about a new book called The Help, and I read an excerpt on Amazon. I was immediately hooked. The book takes place in Mississippi, my beloved home state, and it’s set in the early 60s, a time period that’s always fascinated me. However, if you’ve been lurking around here awhile you know that my interest in a work of ficton set in the early 60s is pretty uncharacteristic because, as I’ve mentioned several times before, I don’t like to read things that take place too far in the past because the lack of air conditioning stresses me out. I don’t like to think about people being really hot. It makes me nervous.

Feel free to add those last three sentences to my list of annoying qualities.

Anyway, despite the fact that the book takes place during a time when I knew that people were going to be BURNING SLAP UP, I still wanted to read it. And over the last three or four days, that is exactly what I’ve done.

I finished it this afternoon. And I cried like a baby. I wish I could buy a copy for all my friends.

The language in the book is a little more colorful than I expected (though I can hardly blame the characters since they were in fact BURNING SLAP UP), and there were a couple of scenes where people said such hateful things that it made me squirm a little bit. But the characters in this novel got so far up under my skin that when I wasn’t reading, I missed them. I LONG for a sequel to this book because I want to check in on them and see how they’re doing. I want to make sure they’re okay.

And you know what else? As a girl who has spent her entire life in the South, I am a STICKLER for accurate Southern dialect. I cannot stand it when an author’s interpretation of Southern is “Well, mah word, dahlin’ – I think I’ve got a case of the vapahs.” A real Southern accent is just as much about the rhythm of the speech as it is the pronunciation of the words. So I was tickled to find that the dialect in The Help is DEAD ON. It’s wonderful, really. I laughed out loud more times than I can tell you because the voices in this novel are so distinct and real – they sound just like home.

So. That’s what’s been going on around here the last couple of days. I’VE BEEN READING. A WHOLE BOOK! And it was delightful.

What about y’all? You read anything good lately? Anything great? I’d love to see your suggestions.

In case, you know, I get on a bit of a reading roll.

When Alex and I walked in Mama and Daddy’s back door last Friday afternoon, I immediately knew that spiced tea was on the stove. The house smelled like Everything Fall, and it made me want to crawl under a blanket and watch college football and drink spiced tea for the next sweet forever. Mama was having a luncheon for five of her friends, and after wandering through the house a little bit, Alex and I found all of them gathered around the sofa in the living room, swapping copies of Mama’s recipes.

I believe this was the forty ninth or three hundred thirty second time this has happened in my life.

My mama enjoys a luncheon.

After we spoke to everybody, I left the small talk to Alex, walked back in the kitchen, and promptly fixed myself a bowl of Mama’s homemade Cream of Zucchini soup. It’s one of my favorite dishes, but I hardly ever make it since D doesn’t think it constitutes a meal. I remember making it at least once the first year we were married, and while D thought it was absolutely delicious, he finished his bowl and looked at me like he was waiting on the next course.

Little did he know that the next course was air.

So on Friday I devoured that bowl of Cream of Zucchini soup in mere minutes, and as I looked around at the other items on the menu, I knew that I’d have to share them with y’all. Everything was so simple, so colorful and oh-so-delicious.

And just look at Mama’s centerpiece on her dining room table:

Isn’t it pretty?

I think it’s safe to say that there is not an artificial autumnal leaf left anywhere in the southeastern United States.

She also used these adorable bowls to serve her soup:

You may have picked up on the fact that she enjoys a theme when she entertains.

And it works for her. Oh yes ma’am it does.

*****

Mary John’s Apple Tea

1 qt. cider
1 cup cranberry juice
1/2 cup dark brown sugar
2 sticks cinnamon
8 whole cloves
1/4 teaspoon ginger
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg

Heat until it boils, then reduce heat until ready to serve.

Cream of Zucchini Soup

2 medium zucchini, grated
2 medium carrots, grated
1 medium onion, chopped
1/2 cup butter
4 tablespoons flour
2 13 1/2-ounce cans chicken broth
4 ounces grated Monterey Jack cheese
1 cup milk
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon pepper

Place grated zucchini in a colander; sprinkle with salt and let sit for 30 minutes. Drain well. Saute’ grated and chopped vegetables in butter, until slightly limp. Stir in flour and cook over low heat for 5 minutes, stirring constantly. Slowly add chicken broth and stir until smooth. Add grated cheese and stir until melted. Add milk, salt and pepper. Serves 6.

Cranberry Salad with Orange Salad Dressing

1 6-ounce package raspberry Jell-O
2 3/4 cups boiling water
1 8-ounce package cream cheese
1 15-ounce can crushed pineapple, drained
1 16-ounce can whole cranberries
1 cup pecans, chopped

Dissolve Jell-O in boiling water. Set aside to cool. Whip cream cheese with a small amount of the pineapple juice to soften. When well mixed, fold in the pineapple, cranberries and nuts. When the gelatin starts to congeal, fold in the mixture. Chill until firm.

Dressing:

1 4 1/2-ounce carton frozen whipped topping
1/3 cup Hellmann’s mayonnaise
1/4 cup instant Tang

Mix ingredients together and refrigerate. Use desired amount on top of each serving of salad.

Fig Preserves Cake

2 cups flour
1/2 tablespoon nutmeg
1 1/2 cups sugar
3 eggs
1 cup buttermilk
1/2 cup pecans (optional)
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 tablespoon cinnamon
1 cup canola oil
1 tablespoon vanilla
1 cup fig preserves, chopped

Sift together the dry ingredients; add oil and mix well. Add eggs; mix well. Add buttermilk; mix well. Add figs and pecans. Bake 40-45 minutes at 325 in 9 x 13 greased pan.

Topping:

1 cup sugar
1/2 cup buttermilk
1 stick butter
1 tablespoon vanilla
1 tablespoon corn syrup
1/2 tablespoon baking soda

Mix all ingredients together; boil 3 minutes. Remove from burner. While hot, pour over cake. Punch small holes in cake as topping is poured on.

*****

Good luck eating just one piece of that fig preserves cake, by the way.

In fact, the fig preserves cake and I were caught up in a bit of spiritual warfare over the weekend. I told Sister that I just wanted to grab a fork and the cake plate and sit down and GET IT OVER WITH, but in the strong name of Jesus I was able to stand firm in the midst of all the spicy sweet temptation.

We are more than conquerors, y’all.

It was a beautiful luncheon, and Mama’s friends seemed to enjoy themselves so much. Hopefully you’ll be able to use at least one of these recipes as you entertain during the upcoming holidays.

But if you make the soup for a meal where your husband will be present, I strongly urge you to also pick up a bucket of fried chicken or something. In the interest of marital harmony and all.

Enjoy, everybody!

A few weeks ago D and Alex made a trip to Mississippi without me. At some point while they were there D and Mama determined that a supper of fried catfish was in order, and as a result of that decision Alex made his inaugural trip to the fish camp.

Quite frankly I was a little teary-eyed about missing such a huge milestone in my child’s life.

I’m still trying to get over it.

According to D, Alex was initially a little uncertain about eating a fried food that had, you know, BONES, but eventually he realized that OH MY WORD, THIS FISH IS DELICIOUS, WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME ABOUT THIS BEFORE, and he proceeded to eat a whole piece of catfish off of his daddy’s plate.

If you’re a Southerner, you know that’s a memory book moment right there.

Well, this past Friday, just as Alex and I were crossing the Mississippi / Alabama line, he piped up from the backseat and said, “Mama? Can we please go to the fish camp tonight?”

I don’t know when I’ve experienced a greater swell of maternal pride.

So I quickly picked up my phone, called my mama and made all the necessary arrangements.

I don’t mess around when it comes to large quantities of food fried in peanut oil, my friends.

Later that night we went to a fish camp on the outskirts of my hometown. It’s a no-frills kind of place: cement block walls, long picnic-style tables, and plastic tableware.

But when you’re eating this…

…who really gives a rip about the atmosphere?

Alex was WOUND UP, to say the least. We went to the fish camp with both of his grandmothers, my aunt and uncle, my cousin Paige and her family, and having SO MANY! RELATIVES! IN THE SAME! PLACE! was just about more than his little four year-old heart could bear.

This is the little man with his cousin Joseph. Joseph is almost a year old, which pretty much means that he’s at that stage where I COULD JUST EAT HIM UP, OH MY WORD, HOW CAN THE WORLD CONTAIN SO MUCH CUTENESS?

Alex had big fun snuggling up with Martha / Mother / “Martie,” and I’ll have you know that Martha, the woman who can eat one Pringle and be completely satisfied, ate two whole catfish filets, hush puppies, French fries and cole slaw.

So clearly she is done with all her eating for 2007.

She’ll probably have a half a grape at the beginning of 2008.

If she’s even remotely hungry by then.

Not even my mama could calm down the the little man. She usually is able to work her dial-it-down-a-notch magic on him, but he’d have none of that at the fish camp. He was far too busy throwing cracker wrappers and crawling underneath the table.

And also: there was a lot of fake burping.

He did pause mid-cracker to take a picture with me.

Yeah. I know. I haven’t been this blonde since 1982. When it was my natural color.

And I really do like it. I do.

However, it does make me feel a bit like a local news anchor. Or perhaps even a sideline reporter on ESPN.

I mean, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the phrase “BACK TO YOU, CHRIS!” has been playing non-stop in my head for the last three days.

I’m also fighting the urge to buy an array of Sensible Suits in colors that would hold up well under the glare of TV studio lights.

See? My child wanted to look at Joseph. He really did. But he was hypnotized by the blinding glare of my hair. He literally could not turn away.

But that’s okay. I was affected in much the same way by the fried catfish.

You know, perhaps my hair and the catfish could co-anchor the five o’clock news.

It’s certain to be a ratings bonanza.