Comfort food: those edibles that bring us to a safe, warm-fuzzy place–the gustatorial counterpart of sucking our thumbs while holding our worn flannel bankies next to our cheeks.
In the south, whatever comfort you find in your foods, they will most certainly be fried.
The smell of hot grease alone is enough to bring down a true southerner’s blood pressure a notch or two. Stick something in it while hot–anything; doesn’t much matter–and you’ve cooked up a batch of Southern Sedative. Let’s see. What might be fry-able. How ’bout pickles?
Yep. We went to two restaurants in Birmingham last weekend, and Fried Pickles were on the menu both places.
I hate to admit they were good. So good they made me want to curl up right there and take a nap.