In August Frit and I went to my South Carolina home … along with her whole family (all 23 of them) … to show them the island, soak up the sun, float in the ocean, and vaca the last steamy bits of summer away.
Whilst home, there are lots of things I “have to do”: go to the beach, visit so-and-so, ride the boats with the padre, etc. And scattered throughout that list are all the restaurants I need to frequent–i.e. the places that make my favorite foods. Namely, all the Southern fixings and all the fresh seafood that I can’t get in Utah.
That week in August was filled with hush puppies and macaroni & cheese and key lime pie and pecan pie and fried fish and shrimp and italian ices and crab cakes, crab cakes, and more crab cakes. My favorite.
It’s a different way of life, and a different way of eating down there. And no matter how long I’m away, as soon as I cross the bridge, I settle into it like the heat of the Southern sun on glistening skin. Which is to say, the crab cakes feed more than my belly.
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