Broke my heart- I did a drive over to Momma Cherri's in Brighton, believing I was going to be bathed in a bowl hominy slow-cooked grits, green beans, macaroni & cheese, all of it surrounding the most wonderful moist inside, crisp outside fried chicken that would make crunch sounds like footsteps on a new fallen snow. How sad that I built my expectations for such a thing!
Commercialism, mixed with a bout of the boss becoming tired and the staff losing the spark has dramatically affected the place, I'm sad to say.
So that leaves me wondering whether this is simply too an elusive dream to find in our country?
I don't want the spicy stuff. I want the original. A few pork chops, smothered of course, and a wallop of potato salad wouldn't go unappreciated either! But for now, I'll keep my prayers focused. I lugged home a Smithfield Country Ham a couple of years ago from the Homestead in Hot Springs Virginia. It was so heavenly I was ready to depart this planet. In fact, I could hear sounds that resembled the wooden planks on an old ocean liner as they yielded to the movement of the ship. That turned out to be my arteries hardening. But for now, I'll stay focused and just ask or beg for the compass coordinates to point me to a decent fried chicken luncheon.
Anyone care to join me?