When you enter an American city, even a small one, the
tendrils of old time America trail off and disappear into the bulldozed,
concreted urban mass. I’m taking
about the fruit and vegetable stands, the mom and pop groceries, the cheap
diners with stained tablecloths, and the seafood shops whose hot grease aroma
washes over you when you step out of your car.
Across the street from where my parents once lived, there
used to be a good-sized stand with a hand painted sign advertising sweet
melons. Bushel baskets of brown
skinned onions sat about.
Hand-sized wood cartons of bright red tomatoes, green peppers, green
cased ears of corn, and yellow summer squash sat on long, trestle tables. Down the street, a BBQ joint selling
thick sandwiches of smoked pork welcomed you with wisps of fragrant smoke. No longer. They’ve been replaced by a branch bank and a big-chain
supermarket. You want some
Americana, you have to venture farther a field. Don’t even bother to look until you glance out the window at
green pastures and rows of corn.
That’s when you find out it’s not just the vegetables and BBQ that’s
missing.
I was outside Whitesboro, Texas, when I stopped at a
vegetable stand. Didn’t need
vegetables. “I’m lost,” I
confessed to a man in jeans, a calico shirt, and a baseball cap.
“Fred,” he twanged at one of his customers, “Do you know
where (whare) that road is?” Fred
didn’t know, but he suggested the guy running the bait shop next door
might. I started to walk that way,
but Fred had already left. “Jest a
sec,” the owner told me.
About 30 seconds later, the man from the bait shop walked
in. Turned out he didn’t know
either, but he led me back to his shop where he had some maps. The maps did no good, so he called his
friend who’s a fireman. A little
while later, I was on my way straight to my destination. Folks with big, friendly hearts are
never too busy to help.
I’m pleased to report I found similar hospitality in the
sprawling outskirts of Atlanta.
Truett Cathy’s first Atlanta restaurant was called the Dwarf
Grill, a humble beginning to what has become the second largest fast food
chain, Chick-fil-a. Now a
nation-wide collection of 1500 plus restaurants, with over $3.2 billion in
annual sales, something new has been added, a group of nostalgia-laced eateries
called Truett’s Grill, featuring a 1950’s era décor, complete with old cars,
gas pumps, naugyhide covered booths, a toy train that races above the diners,
and one heck of a southern breakfast.
But, more than that, the waitresses greet you with a “Mornin’, Hon” and
hustle to take your order. Coffee
appears as if by mental telepathy.
All of this reflects the humble beginning and humble heart of their
employer, Truett Cathy. Never met
the man myself, but good or bad, everything starts at the top. Talked to a couple who go to church
with Truett and couldn’t stop talking about all he’s done for the community and
especially for small business just starting out.
Best of all was the breakfast of fried chicken filet, two
eggs over easy, grits, and biscuit.
But, I have to admit the meal tasted a little better knowing about the
warmth of the man who made it possible.
On the rough edges of Orangeburg, South Carolina, I found
Duke’s BBQ. Found it on a
Saturday, as I passed through. Normally, I'm not attracted to BBQ restaurants
with a buffet. Normally. Dukes was different and even if the
smoked pork lacked a bit and the green beans were cooked past their prime, it
was still worth a stop, just to observe the folks inside. If the rough edges of South Carolina
still hold to the old ways, you’d never notice at Duke’s. People of every
background flock to the place.
High school grads, still wearing their mortarboards came in with their families. Workmen wore stained clothes while they
gobbled their ‘cue. In one corner,
a family and friends in coats and ties and dresses sat and prayed before
digging in.
I’m not one of those who hunger for the good old days. I like some of the big chain stores and
the convenience of Internet shopping.
Sill, it’s nice to know the simple, friendly heart of America still
beats as strong as ever.
Yum!! That's what I love about Americana - you never know what you will find and often times the food comes with the company of the locals, which is always where I gather more fodder for my book (that I will write when I can use two hands and my mind in unison for longer than one minute). Great read.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the comment! As you well know, I love getting off the beaten track and eating with the locals. You and Olene took us to so many BBQ joints in Texas. We loved them all!
ReplyDelete