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The Barbecue Question · Interest Groups
When I moved here from San Antonio I figured I'd be fine. I already said "y'all." I already
drank iced tea by the gallon. Then a lady at church told me my new haircut was "just precious,
bless your heart," and I spent two days trying to decide if I'd been insulted. (I had not. I think.
I'm still not totally sure.)
So here, with love and with help from the native North Carolinians who have been very patient
with all of us, is my guide to what people around here are saying to you. Please don't make fun
of anybody for talking this way. By next year you'll be doing it too. I'm already fixin' to.
The Words
| They say | They mean |
| y'all | You, plural. "Y'all come in." It's a contraction of "you all," so it's spelled with the apostrophe after the Y, not "ya'll." It is the most useful word in the English language and the rest of the country should be ashamed it doesn't have one. For a really big group: all y'all. |
| fixin' to | About to. Getting ready to. "I'm fixin' to go to the store." It does not mean anybody is repairing anything. |
| bless your heart | The trickiest phrase in the South. Sometimes it is real sympathy: "Your mama's in the hospital? Bless your heart." Sometimes it means "you poor thing, you have no idea what you're doing": "You tried to drive to Uptown at five o'clock? Bless your heart." And sometimes, said with a certain little smile, it is the most polite insult ever invented. You figure out which by the tone of voice. It takes about a year. |
| carry | To take somebody somewhere, usually in a car. "I'll carry you to the store." Nobody is going to pick you up and carry you. I was relieved. |
| mash | To press. "Mash the button for the elevator." "Mash the gas." Potatoes are also mashed, so this one is all about context. |
| might could | Might be able to. "I might could help you move that couch Saturday." Two helping verbs, twice the politeness. |
| reckon | Suppose, think, guess. "I reckon it'll rain." |
| buggy | A shopping cart. The bag boy at the grocery store asked if I wanted help to my buggy and I looked for a horse. |
| cut off the light | Turn off the light. Also "cut on." No scissors involved. |
| yonder | Over there. "It's over yonder by the Winn-Dixie." Could be fifty feet. Could be five miles. |
| liked to | Almost. "I liked to died laughing." Nobody died, and nobody liked it. |
| a mess of | A good amount. "A mess of greens." This is a compliment to the greens. |
| pocketbook | Purse. Handbag. Carried by every lady at the luncheon, and never, ever set on the floor. |
| supper / dinner | Supper is the evening meal. Older folks may call the big midday meal "dinner," especially on Sunday after church. If someone invites you to Sunday dinner, show up at one o'clock, not six. |
| yes ma'am, no sir | Not a comment on your age. It's just manners, and children here are taught it early. Answer back the same way and people will like you immediately. (This one I knew from home. Score one for Texas.) |
| coke | Any soft drink. "What kind of coke you want?" "A Sprite." Totally normal. We say this in Texas too, and I will defend it with my life. |
| Uptown | Downtown Charlotte. Don't ask me why, it's just what they call it. Come to the October luncheon and ask Frederick Hill. |
| the Queen City | Charlotte's nickname. The city was named for Queen Charlotte, the wife of King George III, back before the Revolution, which everybody here finds ironic and nobody has changed. |
| "they're calling for snow" | Go to the grocery store immediately. There will be no bread and no milk left by suppertime. One inch of snow closes everything. Those of you from Buffalo, please stop laughing. |
The Food
- Sweet tea. Iced tea, sweetened while it's hot so the sugar dissolves, and served very
sweet, with lemon. In a restaurant, if you just say "tea," this is what you get. If you want it
plain, ask for "unsweet," and they'll look at you a little funny, but they'll bring it.
- Grits. Ground hominy, cooked like a hot cereal, served with butter, salt and pepper,
or cheese, or shrimp. Not with sugar. If you put sugar on your grits around here, people will be
very polite to you and talk about you later.
- Pimento cheese. Grated cheddar, mayonnaise and pimentos. On white bread, on crackers,
on a burger. I was suspicious. Now I keep a tub in the fridge at all times.
- Boiled peanuts. Raw peanuts boiled in their shells in salty water until soft, sold in
paper bags at roadside stands. They taste like a salty bean. You'll love them or you won't. No
middle ground.
- Hush puppies. Fried balls of cornbread batter, served with barbecue and fish.
Dangerous.
- Cheerwine. A cherry soft drink from right here in North Carolina. Not wine. Bright red.
Ask for it with your barbecue and you'll look like a local.
- Krispy Kreme. When the "Hot Now" sign is lit up, the doughnuts are coming off the line
warm, and you pull in. That's the rule. I didn't make it.
The Barbecue Question
Okay. Here's the thing I was least prepared for.
In North Carolina, barbecue is a noun, not a verb, and it means pork, cooked low and
slow over hardwood coals for hours until it falls apart, then chopped or pulled. If you invite
people over to "barbecue" and serve them hamburgers, that's a cookout. Learn the difference
now and save yourself the looks.
And then there are the two kinds, and people take sides:
Eastern style uses the whole hog, chopped, with a thin sauce of vinegar, salt and hot pepper.
No tomato. None. Folks from the eastern part of the state say putting tomato in barbecue sauce is
how you can tell somebody isn't from around here.
Lexington style (some call it Piedmont or Western style, and it's what you'll find more of
around Charlotte) uses the pork shoulder, with a vinegar sauce that has a little ketchup or tomato
in it, and it comes with red slaw, made with that same tangy sauce instead of mayonnaise.
Cross the line into South Carolina, twenty minutes from my house, and some places serve it with a
yellow mustard sauce, which is a whole other argument.
And where I come from? In Texas, barbecue means beef. Brisket, smoked all day, sliced,
with the sauce on the side if you want it at all. I made the mistake of mentioning this at the
Lunch Bunch in March. The silence was something I will remember for the rest of my life.
My official position, as your web volunteer and a guest in this state: I love them all. Eastern
on Tuesday, Lexington on Thursday, and brisket when my mama ships it to me frozen. Please don't
write in. (Okay, write in. But be nice.)
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The Lunch Bunch is going to a barbecue place on Tuesday, October 19, to "settle it." It will not be
settled. Come anyway, and bring your appetite. And remember: when somebody says "bless your heart"
after you ask for brisket, now you know.
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Last updated September 24, 1999
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