Around the World in a Million Bites: Fun & Fellowship

March 24th, 2011

Gaffney, SC

They were loud. Incredibly loud. Obnoxiously loud. My six year hold hands could barely cover my ears enough, while holding a blow up sword in one and a bag of cotton candy in the other, to halt a drum blowout. They were the bane of every parade I attended in the early years of my life.

Shriners Go Karts.

Whether made over to look like stock cars, Corvettes, old hillbilly trucks or 57 Chevy’s, you could hear them pop and sputter and whine for what seemed like miles before they entered site. Call me a wuss but I was young, had sensitive ears and hated those things. For all I new those guys’ idea of a fun weekend was tying a few kids to a post and driving circles around them in those backfiring soap boxes. What were these Shriners anyway... old dudes in funny hats with, at the time at least, bad mustaches?

As has happened with so many things in my life, I grew up to find what I once thought true to be just a bit different. Not only do most Shriners refrain from intentionally scaring kids with their minicars, but they also raise millions of dollars every year to fund their 22 hospitals in North America where children are treated for spinal cord injuries, burns and orthopedic ailments without financial obligation. I have found that they can cook the hell out of some Quail as well.

Established in 1870 as an appendage of the Free Masons on the basis of “fun, fellowship and brotherly love,” the club known for it’s social participation and generosity. Twice every year the Cherokee County Shrine Club hosts a fundraising dinner which focuses on the delectable little fowl that, unless you own a 12 gauge and a few acres of land outside of town, are not typical dinner fare. Tonight I was able to attend my second of these “Quail Dinners” with my dad and younger brother who was visiting from Charleston, SC. Over a thousand of the farm raised little birds were brought in to the “Temple” situated on, appropriately enough, Shrine Club Rd on the southern side of my home town, Gaffney, SC.

In the spirit of the previously mentioned fellowship, this is great “activity food” as I like to call it. Not unlike a crawfish boil, oyster roast or low country boil(I believe it was only coincidence that those three examples all revolved around seafood, but I am certainly in need of a trip to the beach), eating quail require a large amount of effort on the part of the eater. Many small bones must be navigated, avoided and discarded in order to enjoy the relatively small amount of meat they possess. This is a down and dirty, eat with your hands, 24-paper towel kind meal. Lightly breaded and deep fried in peanut oil, when you tear into a half dozen or so(emphasis on the OR SO) you feel the satisfaction of having at least put in some effort for your meal.

The small muscles of the quail take on the consistency of fried frog legs, a good amount of chewiness, but not so much that it diminishes the enjoyment. Though it does make one wonder the difference between the admittedly non-professional kitchen “staff” here at the Shrine Center and the french guys to whom I forked over $20 for my last plate of amphibian. Perfectly seasoned and still warm from the oil, it was very hard to pay attention to the array of sides accompanying the main but I was strong enough to give them their due.

Corn and green beans, staples on any dinner table in our region, they were good but not necessarily noteworthy. The dressing however, wow. Traditional southern cornbread dressing, awesomely seasoned and still incredibly moist, this is one side dish that I admittedly have never made and want so dearly to master. Biscuits - light, fluffy, buttery perfection. Screw a gun, happiness is a warm biscuit. All of these were spread out on the tables to be passed and eaten family style and were highlighted by the pièce de résistance - pitchers filled with brown gravy. PITCHERS FILLED WITH BROWN GRAVY! When any item ran out you raised your hand and they brought you more. What that means is for an entire hour, this evening, I had PITCHERS OF BROWN GRAVY ON CALL! I raised my hand and guess what happened...MORE BROWN GRAVY!

Sorry, I got a little overwhelmed there, ok, Im back.

So the ol’ Masons were looking for fun, fellowship and brotherly love. I’d say that this night had all of that - great food, a couple of beers, hanging out with my dad, brother and some old friends I had not seen in quite some time, not to mention those pitchers, I would highly recommend making the trek to Gaffney at least once to check out this night of bone throwing. You have 2 chances per year!