Everytime I meet someone in California, they search to find a redneck connection that they can share with me. Either they have spent some time driving quickly through some bastion of backwards thinking, they have been forced to live in a southern outpost against their will, or they have one long lost, ignorant family member who hails from that region of the country.
It is always entertaining and I really enjoy hearing what people on the West Coast have heard about those of us on the right coast.
But my favorite story happened last week. I was at a networking event and met a wonderful lady who had visited the south. She started telling me a tale about a drive through a southern town when she spotted a big guy in overalls stirring a boiling pot by the side of the road. I immediately shouted out "Boiled Peanuts - my favorite! You can find them everywhere you go in the south." She was stunned. "How did you know that's what he was stirring in that pot?"
Well what else could it be? Southern town, guy in overalls, big rusty steel barrell over a hot flame, former boat oar being converted to stirring implement (probably recently removed from one o' them rafters in Deliverance country).
Boiled peanuts. A salty treat to die for year round but especially in the fall. My grandfather made them for us and as kids we had a ball shooting the soggy peanut shells at each other.
What I wouldn't give for a boiled peanut right now. Closest thing you guys have out here is edamame. But that's too darn healthy and not salty enough to go with Pabst Blue Ribbon beer.