Eating habits and the Low Country Boil war
 | | Jack Atkinson |
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It was in the first grade at the old Garfield school, 1952. One of life's most embarrassing moments. I had accidentally drunk from someone else's milk carton: Martha Johnson. I am still a little embarrassed even today when I see her. She probably never thought much about the incident though at the time she let me know what a mess I had made as a first grader; I think she was in the second grade. Martha, I apologize.
People's eating habits have always intrigued me. Were you the one who could eat only one food type at the time? Or were you the one who could not let one food type touch another? There was someone in my class who would always eat the sweet things first. Later in life I had a colleague who would not eat anything with pits, such as olives, cherries, etc.
We spend most of our child rearing time keeping food on the table, off clothes and from around mouths. Yet it is that one time we break the rule that bothers me. On the first birthday we have the tradition of letting the birthday child dig into an iced cake as the film rolls or the digital camera clicks noting just what a mess a child can make if left to play in food. How old is this tradition? Here we are as adults laughing at the huge mess made and the initiation rite completed, usually with a bath and clean clothes. The poor little ones are confused by an uncomfortable elastic string under the chin holding a much too small hat and a tummy full of sweet icing. The birthday child feels all this uncomfortableness and dozens of eyes looking on and smiling and laughing! Is this fun?
Food is serious business in my family. Take for example the great Low Country Boil War. Growing up we ate this food separately: Corn on-the-cob, shrimp, potatoes and sausage. We never thought to put them in a pot and boil them and call it something else. But times are changing. Growing up in Emanuel County in the early 1960's there were no pizza restaurants, not even frozen pizza. I remember those first boxes by Chef Boyardee that was called pizza. You had to open packages, let the dough rise and then you could spread the sauce on the dough before baking. I was creative and found all sorts of things to put on pizza. I realized that most people didn't like anchovies, so somehow I found some in the cabinet and used them liberally to keep the whole pizza for myself.
The low country boil is an institution now. Everyone loves it. But that doesn't mean everyone cooks it the same way. I learned this on a trip back to Emanuel County when I was living in Charleston with my sister. My brother was having a big low country boil at his home and we were invited. I realized that the time was approaching for a plate of that steaming corn-shrimp-potatoes and sausage when my sister pulled onto the road and back to Charleston we headed. What was wrong? Had there been a fuss? Were we going to be late for an obligation I had forgotten about? No.
My brother insists on pouring the low country boil onto a table over newspaper. My sister insists that it is to be dipped from the pot and served in its juices. She refused to stay and eat a juiceless low country boil. Back to Charleston we went with visions of shrimp and corn in my head. They are both right and they will not negotiate their positions. It is war. Eating habits--we all have them.-- Jack Atkinson is our regular guest columnist and a resident of Garfield. This column originally appeared in The Forest-Blade on June 14, 2006.
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