Southern Exposure

January 17th, 2011 (last visit)

Charlotte, NC

I am a Southerner. I was born in the South, Eastern Tennessee specifically. I was raised in the South, upstate South Carolina. I am, by right of birth, a connoisseur, an expert, a professional appreciator of the cuisine commonly referred to as “Comfort Food.” I was weaned on the kinds of eats that are imitated and re-interpreted in restaurants and homes all over the country, but were created and perfected (at least in their original form) in my region of upbringing. 

Baked Mac n Cheese, Collard Greens cooked with Ham Hocks, Chicken (or what my grandfather was famous for, Ham) n Dumplin’s, Fried Chicken, hell - fried anything. I could fill a book just listing the host of dishes I devoured every Sunday afternoon at my grandparents house, church potlucks and the occasional family reunion. Not to mention the plethora of gravies with which to smother everything on your plate. And the biscuits, oh God the biscuits. That salty, fried, warm, fatty goodness that just always seems to remind people of home, or at least of someones home. 

These were what I first saw cooked. I would sit in my grandpa’s kitchen and watch him, from memory, cook 6 different dishes for 12 or so people and probably not spend more than 15 bucks. That’s the best part and without question why it endured. Good Southern comfort food is by necessity, or at least it was by necessity, inexpensive. The ability to take some of the cheapest cuts of meat, some hearty vegetables and grains and make filling, tasty food enabled generations of rural, poor farmers and mill workers to sustain and raise families. Families who appreciated the fellowship that surrounded that food on those tables. People in the South, of all background, take pride in that. I’m reminded of that court scene in My Cousin Vinny where they talk about how long it takes to cook a grit. That was funny to everyone who watched it; but to the Southerners, it was funny because it was true. 

These foods help shape who I am...which is what brings me to my current quandary. It doesn’t seem to do it for me anymore. Now don’t get me wrong, I still love to debate the rules of what makes the best Mac n Cheese. I see the Bojangles Chicken Biscuit billboard on the side of the interstate and almost drive off of the road. I will pour my heart out to a stranger, preaching the holy healing qualities of a single slice of lightly fried livermush (note to self, write about livermush and save the world). But those days when its cold and grey, when I feel a little under the weather, when I’m just in a bad mood - I no longer drive straight to the Coop for some livers and gizzards or a 1/4 dark “sandwich.” I don’t find the nearest “meat and three” and pile on the country fried steak and a trio of casseroles. And I no longer hit the grocery on the way home from work to grab ingredients for pinto beans and cracklin’ cornbread. These days, and for much longer than Anthony Bourdain has been going on about it, I head directly for the nearest bowl of Phở. A dish born in the North...North Vietnam.

Now before anyone brings it up, even though I am new to this blog thing, I would assume that writing two posts in a row about dishes from Vietnam is pretty much as bad as having two songs back to back on a mixed tape by the same band. But the way I see it, it’s my blog so I’ll do what I want and no one is reading the damned thing but me right now anyway. Also, Soup and sandwich are like Bonnie an Clyde so let’s just look at this as a very brief series on what is quickly becoming, from a food sense, my favorite country in the world.

My love affair with Phở began over 10 years ago in Charlotte at a now closed little restaurant in a strip mall I lovingly used to call the “mall of many nations.” Home to a great indian buffet, mexican mercado and this Phở joint, among others, it is, oddly enough, less than half a mile from my current place of rare beef noodle soup nirvana. At the time I was barely out of high school and very much into food, but mainly for the entertainment value. I had food ADD so unless there was some form of hands on activity I wasn’t hanging around long. I think my favorite restaurant at the time was The Melting Pot if that gives you any kind of insight. Luckily enough, the little plate of garnishes - mint, Thai basil, sliced hot chilies, bean sprouts and limes, that you add to the soup yourself was enough to keep me focused.  What can I say, I was a 19 year old from a small, South Carolina town; I was easily entertained. I went to this restaurant for a few years with group of people that I worked with almost every week. As the years passed and I moved away from Charlotte and then back again I was able to try several new and different Vietnamese restaurants, all serving Phở, but all slightly different from one another. 

I was, thankfully, introduced to my favorite soup shop of all by a good friend and fellow food fiend. Vietnam Grille on South Blvd in Charlotte it the temple of enlightenment. This is my new comfort food fix. Soup is, in and of itself, instantly comforting. Within the first few slurps (that’s how I do it anyway) of hot broth, you are warmed all the way through. Its like getting a bear hug from the inside out...ok, too far. 

But the base of this Phở is not just any broth. This is not some out-of-a-can, mommy-my-nose-is-running, powder-cube in water crap. This is the most rich, unctuous, lip-smakin’...In The Elements of Cooking, Michael Ruhlman quotes author Harold McGee: “We value cream above all for its feel. Creaminess is a remarkable consistency, perfectly balanced between solidity and fluidity, between persistence and evanescence . It’s substantial, yet smooth and seamless. It lingers in the mouth, yet offers no resistance to teeth or tongue, nor becomes mealy or greasy.” Thats what I think about when I taste, no, feel this broth. Screw cream, give me this broth and leave me the hell alone for about 3 hours. 

Ok, Im back. Quality, fresh ingredients that introduce every imaginable texture; soft rice noodles, beef that has been just slightly cooked by the broth, crunch from the onion and bean sprouts; the blend of sour lime, spicy Sriracha chili sauce, pungent fish sauce all added to that wonderfully savory broth to my liking. That is comfort. That can bring be back from the edge. That, when I am not, is what makes me whole again. Nan, Pop, I’m sorry.

Perhaps my upbringing is what has allowed this to happen in the first place? Maybe I became so accustomed to the food of my childhood that it, somehow, became old hat - leaving me susceptible to the calls of a dish from a country very far from my own? 

I was never the one, when growing up, to say “I can’t wait to get out of this town.” As happens often it seems, thats exactly what I did, while most who uttered that statement once a week still live there to this day. But, looking back, I can now see that even in my early years I was, without knowing it, looking past the common cuisine of my heritage. Unconsciously saying, “I can’t wait to try something else. Anything I’ve never seen before. Anything new.” 

Vietnam Grille

5615 South Blvd.

Charlotte, NC  28217