HG awakened to a sunny, cold, windy Prince Edward Island morning. Happily, BSK had made a pot of steaming Red Mill grits. The wonderful woman topped HG’s portion with a pat of butter and a perfect poached egg. A bowlful of pleasure. HG has always loved grits since encountering them when HG lived in an Athens, Georgia, boarding house at the age of six. HG has a vivid and happy memory of the breakfasts prepared by a smiling African-American woman. Fried ham. Scrambled eggs. Freshly made light-as-a-feather biscuits. And, grits streaked with ham gravy. Drink was hot milk darkened with a bit of coffee. Oh, my!! On the road, HG always has a bowl of grits topped with poached eggs at Waffle House. Purists may sneer, but HG often breakfasts on Quaker Oats grits cooked with lots of grated parmesan. Takes minutes to prepare. When SJ lived in Chicago, excellent son led HG to Soul Kitchen (long closed) for a meal of shucked oysters and a platter of creamy grits with Tasso ham and plump Gulf shrimp. A side dish of crisp, fried sage leaves. It was a sublime dish that is now embedded in HG’s memory.
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