Southern Food Quotes

“She cooked a Southern supper as Ma would have: black-eyed peas with red onions, fried ham, cornbread with cracklin', butter beans cooked in butter and milk. Blackberry cobbler with hard cream with some bourbon Jodie brought.”
― Delia Owens, Where the Crawdads Sing

“Ah reckon we can git us some rest'rant vittles," Pa said, and led her along the pier toward the Barkley Cove Diner. Kya had never eaten restaurant food; had never set food inside. Her heart thumped as she brushed dried mud from her way-too-short overalls and patted down her tangled hair. As Pa opened the door, every customer paused mid-bite. A few men nodded faintly at Pa; the women frowned and turned their heads. One snorted, "Well, they prob'ly can't read the shirt and shoes required."
Pa motioned for her to sit at a small table overlooking the wharf. She couldn’t read the menu, but he told her most of it, and she ordered fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, white acre peas, and biscuits fluffy as fresh-picked cotton. He had fried shrimp, cheese grits, fried “okree,” and fried green tomatoes. The waitress put a whole dish of butter pats perched on ice cubes and a basket of cornbread and biscuits on their table, and all the sweet iced tea they could drink. Then they had blackberry cobbler with ice cream for dessert.”
― Delia Owens, Where the Crawdads Sing

“I'm too tired to cook, and I reckon you are, too. Let's grab some grub at the diner on the way home."
Nodding at everyone, there not being one person they didn’t know, they sat at a corner table. Both ordered the special: chicken-fried steak, mash and gravy, turnips, and coleslaw. Biscuits. Pecan pie with ice cream. At the next table, a family of four joined hands and lowered their heads as the father said a blessing out loud. At “Amen” they kissed the air, squeezed hands, and passed the cornbread.”
― Delia Owens, Where the Crawdads Sing

“Nothing beats a glass bottle of Coke and a trusty Moon Pie under the heat of the Alabama sun.”
― Joseph Carro, The Little Coffee Shop of Horrors Anthology 2

“Food is prevalent in the novel (To Kill A Mockingbird), with many mentions of tempting Southern treats, including ambrosia, turnip greens, Lane cake, crackling bread, peach pickles, dewberry tarts, fried pork chops and Nehi cola.”
― Dinah Fried, Fictitious Dishes

“I learned that food offers entree to big picture issues. Like race and class, gender and justice. Through the years, when I tried to tackle those matters head-on, I often lost an audience. But at tables piled high with country ham, buttermilk biscuits and redeye gravy, I've marveled as all have leaned in close to eat, to talk, to listen. I've come to believe that time at table offers our best chance for all---for black and white, rich and poor---to acknowledge our past and celebrate our future in a spirit of reconciliation.
-John T. Edge, Director of the Center for the Study of Southern Culture at the University of Mississippi”
― Garden and Gun, The Southerner's Handbook: A Guide to Living the Good Life

“This brisket must have taken you hours," Hudson says, sitting next to me.
"A brisket like this takes all night, son," Shawn says, not even looking at Hudson. All of the guards laugh.
"Then you'd better walk me through how to serve this before I embarrass myself further," Hudson says.
"Definitely," I say, passing the brisket to Shawn, at the head of the table.
"You didn't have to agree so quickly," Hudson says.
"You can do it a couple of ways. The white bread and the barbecue sauce plus the brisket make a nice sandwich, like Jace is doing," I say, pointing to the now silenced doubting Thomas. I continue, "Or you can just have the brisket with or without barbecue sauce and with or without the ranch beans and slaw, kind of blending in, like turkey, cranberries, and mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving," I say.
"Isn't brisket supposed to be served with biscuits?" Hudson asks, serving himself some ranch beans.
The conversation at the table screeches to a halt. The guards and Warden Dale just shake their heads and continue talking and eating.
"I think from here on out, you just need to start actively censoring your thoughts and opinions. For your own safety," I say, laughing.”
― Liza Palmer, Nowhere But Home

“Barbecue, vegetable plate, baked beans, sweet tea, fried
cherry pie, and an apple


I'm almost catatonic as I hold the little slip of paper in my hand now. Harlan, Cody, and I didn't need Shawn to go into what "barbecue" meant. Classic Texas barbecue is a beef brisket, sausage, and ribs. A "vegetable plate" is traditionally a potato salad, raw white onions, and pickles. Not quite what most people would call a healthy vegetable plate, but this is how we do it in Texas.”
― Liza Palmer, Nowhere But Home

“My idea won't change the recipe. Your burger and filling are divine."
He gave me a cocky grin. "Damn right they are."
"I just agreed. What I'm suggesting is we can offer my idea as an add-on. You know, for an upcharge."
"Just tell me. You're going to anyway." He didn't seem upset anymore.
"What if we added blue cheese to the burger or crabmeat?"
He scooped the burgers up and put them on a warm bun. He was listening.
"Maybe call it Surf and Turf Black and Blue. Or something."
"That's the best idea I ever heard." Betsy hung a ticket on the wheel. "I wish I hadn't had lunch already. I'd be the guinea pig for that!"
The fryer alarm went off, and Sam pulled the basket of chicken fried chicken and hooked it to drain. "We should definitely try it. We could experiment with a couple of cheeses."
That was fine by me, as long as blue cheese was one of them.”
― Kate Young, Southern Sass and Killer Cravings

“Piper chose a pan-roasted and porcini-dusted chicken over a mushroom, artichoke, and Parmesan risotto, while Bertrand and Marguerite both ordered the sauté of Gulf shrimp in a pancetta, sun-dried tomato, and basil beurre blanc with goat-cheese grits.”
― Mary Jane Clark, That Old Black Magic

“After the buffet dinner of seafood gumbo, snow crab claws, oysters Bienville, crawfish étouffée, and creole jambalaya”
― Mary Jane Clark, That Old Black Magic

“Cubby’s one of the best pitmasters in the world. His brisket is so falling-apart tender you’d swear it was cooked in butter. Folks would travel miles to sample Queen’s house-made sausage, her vegan portobello sandwiches with creamy remoulade, and her Texas sheet cake.”
― Susan Wiggs, Sugar and Salt

“At the state park, they hiked up to a meadow covered with soft grass and golden poppies. Jerome spread out a blanket, and they lazed in the sunshine and had their lunch. The sliders and sheet cake were a hit, as she had known they would be. The sandwiches had been a food truck staple---thin slices of house-cured pastrami, garlic dill kraut, Swiss cheese, and Russian dressing, the rolls slathered with herb butter and crunchy seeds and salt.”
― Susan Wiggs, Sugar and Salt

“It was the kind of feast she loved to fix. She made her falling-apart-tender ribs, smoked on the way-too-fancy patio barbecue and finished in a slow oven. She prepared three kinds of sauce and her very best sides---homemade cornbread with pepper jelly, plates of slow-simmered greens in pot liquor, and a salad of heirloom tomatoes and grilled peaches and herbs from the local farmers’ market, topped with a scoop of burrata cheese. Hummingbird cake for dessert, because who didn't like a hummingbird cake?”
― Susan Wiggs, Sugar and Salt

“She made them honey butter fried chicken and buttermilk biscuits the way her mother had taught her, with White Lily flour and the butter shredded on a box grater. She served charred eggplant with cilantro pesto, polenta pasticciata, grilled corn, and fried dill pickles.”
― Susan Wiggs, Sugar and Salt

“During the meal I consume every last bite of my shrimp and grits, relishing the uniquely Southern combinations: tart lemon juice, savory scallions, crisp bacon, and a dash of paprika all mixed in with freshly grated Parmesan and creamy white cheddar. It's been tossed with sautéed wild mushrooms and minced garlic, cayenne pepper, and Gulf shrimp, all atop a bowl of steaming Mississippi Delta stone-cut grits. My belly sings a psalm of thanks with every flavor-punched drop, and that doesn't even count the homemade biscuits baked big as fists and the silver-dollar pickles fried deep with salt. Drown it all together with a swig of syrup-sweet tea, and the name of this country song would be "Welcome Home.”
― Julie Cantrell, Perennials

“Pa motioned for her to sit at a small table overlooking the wharf. She couldn't read the menu, but he told her most of it, and she ordered fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, white acre peas, and biscuits fluffy as fresh picked cotton. He had fried shrimp, cheese grits, fried "okree," and fried green tomatoes. The waitress put a whole dish of butter pats perched on ice cubes and a basket of cornbread and biscuits on their table, and all the sweet iced tea they could drink. Then they had blackberry cobbler with ice cream for dessert. So full, Kya thought she might get sick, but figured it'd be worth it.”
― Delia Owens, Where the Crawdads Sing

“So you're doing your fried chicken, Alice?"
"No, ma'am, I'm doing your fried chicken. It's time to bring back the original recipe to the Lantern," Alice said.
"I love that idea," I said.
Tradition always markets well in the South.”
― Victoria Benton Frank, My Magnolia Summer

“The cooks went outside to Alice's truck and brought in six pies, a crate of veggies, and a bushel of fresh crabs. I was beside myself with excitement.
We took out large hotel pans, filled them with ice, and poured the oysters and crabs on them to keep them fresh. It was a beautiful sight.
Her veggie basket also included the juiciest grapefruits I'd ever seen. I decided to serve them alongside the beautiful crab. My mind was going crazy with different ways to combine all these fresh ingredients. In New York we had wonderful seafood and produce, but most of it was imported. According to my palate, though, no crab was tastier than one that had been swimming a hundred yards from your table earlier in the day.”
― Victoria Benton Frank, My Magnolia Summer

“Buster's daughters certainly hadn't spared any expense, and, surprisingly, had chosen the perfect dishes--- ham biscuits, maple ham slices with artichoke relish, golden pimento mac and cheese, and a tray of salad. Not a morsel of frozen seafood in sight! Of course, I gave all the credit to the caterer, one of the best in Charleston. I was impressed by the beautiful blend of lettuces, Bibb, frisée, and red oak.”
― Victoria Benton Frank, My Magnolia Summer

“Afterward, Marvina and I fried the chicken, and, I tell you, all hell broke loose when Kerresha tasted the meat.
"Oh my God! Holy Jesus and Guadalupe Mary!"
Before Marvina could ask her to stop using the Lord's name in vain, Kerresha leaned back in her chair and feigned a heart attack. "Oh my God! Mmm, mmm mmmmm! Where? What kind of voodoo did you put in this chicken?"
"Ain't no voodoo here in this house," Marvina bucked.
"Yes! There is!" Kerresha licked her fingers. "I promise you. On God." She put a hand on her heart. "This chicken just took me back to the spiritual power of the ancestors."
Marvina was so flattered she couldn't be mad. We both looked at each other and laughed, because, truth be told, this was exactly the reaction people gave the first time they tasted Momma's seasoning on expertly fried chicken.
"Y'all." Kerresha raised both hands in the air like she was getting happy in a holiness church. "Is it the grease? The seasoning? Chickens raised by unicorns?"
"It's the seasoning," my sister and I said simultaneously.
Kerresha swallowed another bite. "Whatever y'all put in that seasoning is a miracle. A double miracle, since it also has the power to make y'all finally both agree on something.”
― Michelle Stimpson, Sisters with a Side of Greens

“Deciding she'd earned a snack break, Mae moved over to the refreshments table. She slowly walked along it, taking mental inventory: a whole sliced ham, its edges dark and shiny. A colorful macaroni salad speckled with chunks of tomatoes, bell peppers, celery, and carrots in a creamy dressing. Deviled eggs loaded with filling and a healthy shake of paprika. Chunky potato salad a deep shade of golden yellow. Seeing it plucked a string in her chest. Her dad, who considered himself a potato salad connoisseur, said a sign of a good potato salad was what color it was. If it's white, it ain't right, he used to say.
She loaded her plate with a little of everything--- and an extra-large scoop of potato salad. Mae brought a forkful to her mouth, tasting a sharp zing of mustard and sweet pickle relish. It was creamy, tangy, and so much better than the pale, bland potato salad Madison's mom made every Easter.”
― Shauna Robinson, The Townsend Family Recipe for Disaster

“Mae drew closer, bending down to peer at the tiny words written on the ripped scraps of paper. Most of the pieces were no bigger than a Post-it. Smothered chicken. Shrimp and grits. Lamb chops. Fried chicken. Black-eyed peas. Chicken pot pie. Oyster dressing. Corn casserole. Barbecue sauce.
Seeing these felt like being reunited with an old friend. The tiny handwriting was unfamiliar, but the dishes jumped out at her like memories. Her dad had talked about some of these. He'd told her about shrimp and grits on those mornings at Skyline Diner. And he'd mentioned oyster dressing and corn casserole once when Mae had asked him what his family ate at Thanksgiving. The barbecue sauce might have been something Althea made a big vat of for their annual Fourth of July event.”
― Shauna Robinson, The Townsend Family Recipe for Disaster

“The smothered chicken and gravy, collard greens, and the black-eyed peas she'd modified to make vegetarian for Sierra were ready and warm on the stove. The rice waited patiently in the rice cooker on the counter. The corn fritters were warming in the oven. The peach cobbler, fresh out of the oven, cooled on the counter next to a dish she hadn't told the Townsends about, which she'd covered in foil until it was time to bring it out. The entire house smelled heavenly, from the savory garlic and onion to the rich chicken-gravy to the cobbler's sweet cinnamon spice.”
― Shauna Robinson, The Townsend Family Recipe for Disaster

“The smoky smell of the first burgers hitting the grill lured the early arrivers to the backyard, and the barbecue kicked off. Mae left the front door unlocked and opened the back gate to let people come as they pleased. Slowly, the table filled with more food beyond Mae's contributions: Harriet's cornbread, Patty's tea cakes, a burger and hot dog station Jeremiah had set up, Phyllis's coleslaw, collard greens with pink flecks of ham from another of Althea's church friends, a watermelon and cucumber salad from Marlene and Joan, and more. In the ice-filled coolers Mae and Connor had set out, people were helping themselves to sodas, beers, water, and---once Richard arrived---homemade cider.”
― Shauna Robinson, The Townsend Family Recipe for Disaster

“With the oysters, I'm at the shore, swimming in the heat of the day. She serves us baby cream biscuits and smoked peach butter that taste exactly like those we'd eat around her mother's table during a Sunday dinner, only better, tweaked in a way that makes me want to taste it again and again. Buttermilk panna cotta with spot prawns and spring vegetables pulls me right into lazy picnics in Delilah's backyard, when we'd gorge on plump peas, sweet tomatoes, crisp cucumbers. The tender shrimp and tart buttermilk--- all of this is our childhood on a plate.
I never wanted to look too closely at that time, but it's slapping me tight in the face. Oddly, it doesn't hurt. Not this version. It feels fragile and rare, like I should be protecting it, like I should be proud of where we come from and who we are.
And then the menu changes on me. The servers bring out what Delilah says is butter-poached cod with potato galette and shellfish emulsion dotted with petals of mango and peach. It is the clean taste of the sea; it is buttery velvet along my tongue, bright bursts of juicy fruit. Underneath it all is a crisp, airy version of what is essentially a gourmet tater tot.
The taste is erotic. Heat and lust wash over me in a wave that has my balls clenching and my cock stiffening. I can't figure out why. Then it hits me like a kick to the chest. This dish is us. Frantic kissing on the beach, eating juicy mangos at the market, peaches and tater tots. She's created us. A compilation of all she holds dear.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“It was a classic southern spread. Shrimp and grits, red rice, biscuits, mac and cheese, pulled pork, and a ton of other sides. It smelled delicious. I made myself a little pulled pork sandwich with Carolina BBQ sauce on a Hawaiian roll. It was even better than it smelled. I made a note of the caterer. Hamby. Of course. Hamby Cateringwas the caterer; they did all the best events in Charleston. We both wolfed down the delicious chicken salad sandwiches, huge helpings of mac and cheese, and two biscuits that were lighter than clouds--- not as good as Maggie's, but pretty good.”
― Victoria Benton Frank, The Violet Hour