The Power of Farmer's Markets

Farmer's Markets are a dying breed. It's sad too. Where else are we going to be able to find locally grown, organic fruits and vegetables? After going to the Decatur Farmers Market, I realized how interesting they could be.

This market was different in that it wasn't the fruit and vegetable stand that you might think of. This place had meats, cheeses, spices, freshly baked breads, and even a deli! It was, for all intensive purposes, a super farmer's market. And that's exactly what we need. We need a place that has the look, price, and convenience of a Walmart, but the connections, quality, and safety of a farmer's market. We need to know where our food has come from; know that it's safe and healthy. Unfortunately, the farmer's market is the only venue we have left, and they're dying out.

That's why it's so important for us to shop at places like these. After all, isn't it important to know who's in your kitchen?

Thanksgiving Mac and Cheese

How strange is it to eat mac and cheese on Thanksgiving? Apparently pretty darn weird. I heard a coworker recently talk about how weird it is that us Southerners have mac and cheese for Thanksgiving and Christmas. It was even stranger to her that we bake it. To her, mac and cheese consisted of Kraft's blue box special. She's from Ohio, and apparently the eating of mac and cheese on the holidays is a distinctly Southern affair. 

It's even been on the 700 Club recently where, much to my horror, Pat Robinson called it a "black thing."But at this point, should anything Pat Robinson says phase us? 

Nevertheless, it got me to thinking about how foods are eaten differently in different regions of our country. I automatically assumed that everyone had mac and cheese at Thanksgiving and Christmas. What else do I eat that is distinctly Southern? O_o

Drunk Eating

I'm always amazed at what gets eaten when I'm drunk. And I'm not just talking about the things that I eat, but the things that others eat as well. For instance, the go-to places seem to be Krystals, followed closely by Waffle House and Taco Bell. These are the worst possible things that you could eat, but maybe that's the beauty of it-you have to be drunk to allow yourself to go there (with the exception of Taco Bell. That place is amazing no matter what!).
However, most of the time, my friends and I plan to stay home, and buy food for afterward. Usually we consume pizza rolls, Doritos, chips and salsa, or Oreos. These are things that are easily consumed, and have no nutritional value at all. That's the beauty of drunk eating-you don't care, you just enjoy the food.

Mellow Cravings

Cravings: everyone has them. I get them frequently, but mine are usually for restaurant-specific foods.  For instance, take my addiction to Mellow Mushroom. I always seem to get the same dishes-cheese bread for an appetizer and a 10-inch caesar pizza. On this particular occasion, however, I decided to switch it up a bit. I order the drunken pretzels (I can't remember the full name) and a red skin potato pie. They were both uber delicious. The dipping sauces were mustard, cheese, and some sort of sweet and sour variation.You could definitely taste the alcohol, which was quite nice. The red skin potato pie pizza consisted of a basic pizza with bits of bacon, potato skins, and chives, drizzled with ranch and buffalo sauce. I left thinking, perhaps it's time I changed my usual order?

Marietta Diner

Zach had been talking about this place for weeks. Apparently, Tamara introduced him to this famous establishment after their last "girl's night out." The diner was etched in neon lighting-like a vegas Christmas tree. Upon inspection of the menu, there were food choices from "American" and Italian origins. In fact, I wondered if this place had close mafia connections, seeing as there were several Italian men gathered in the back arguing loudly. As I looked around, there were framed picture indicating that it had fed many stars, and even appeared on the Food Network, so it was sure to please, right?
Wrong. I was seriously disappointed. The food definitely didn't live up to the hype. The burger was moderately tasty, but I've had better from Zorba's restaurant in Cedartown. However, they did have excellent service-speedy and very polite. All in all, I would visit the place again to give it another chance.

Southern Comfort

If there's one thing a true Southerner knows, it's that there's nothing quite like our comfort food. You know the kind I'm talking about: mac and cheese, meatloaf, and fried okra-the stuff your Nanny or momma used to make. That's exactly what I found last Friday at Rome's Harvest Moon Cafe. I walked in expecting to order a sandwich, but found meatloaf on their menu. I'm a sucker for some meatloaf. Then to sweeten the deal, there were sides like mac and cheese, sweet potato soufflé, fried okra, and their own spicy cornbread. I was sold. As you can see, I helped myself to this amazing Southern feast. The mac and cheese was perfect-not too creamy, but ultra cheesy. The sweet potato was truly sweet. The cornbread, not too spicy, and cake-like in texture. The fried okra, however, was average, but that was my only complaint. That day I left with a full belly and a new spot to indulge at.

The Margarona!

Since I've moved to Rome, time with my friends back home has become more precious. Most of our times spent together are in restaurants scattered between Rome and Cedartown. On one such occasion, we visited both of Cedartown's Mexican restaurants. At El Nopal (my favorite), we met Zach's best friend, her husband, and a couple of their mutual friends. As usual, I ate my go to dish-the Quesadilla Rellana. Then, after dining with that group of friends, we parted ways and met Tamara, one of our mutual friends. After much convincing from Zach and Tamara,  I was formally introduced to the Margarona.

This monster of a drink was just the thing I was looking for. It had the best of both worlds: a margarita and a Corona, hence the name Margarona. Upon arriving at the table, I quickly snapped a picture. After all, it's not every day I partake of such a huge drink. The margarita was the perfect strength-super strong, and coupled with the bit of beer that had mixed in from the downturned bottle, made an interesting combination. I was warned, however, that I should drink the margarita first, then work on the Corona by gently lifting the bottle, thus releasing the seal created by the introduction into the margarita. I slowly sipped on my margarita, acclimating myself to the taste. Then, when I'd finished about half, I started working in more of the Corona. Eventually, I ended up drinking half of the Corona by itself.

Close to the end of my Corona, and our third or fourth helping of chips and salsa (at this point, I'd lost count), I got a craving for desert. Our waitress recommended a dish that they were experimenting with in the kitchen. It was a sort of fried cheesecake, served with ice cream. I ordered it immediately, and the three of us split it. It tasted like cheesecake, but mixed with a crispy donut. It went down perfectly with the vanilla ice cream.