Good puppy!

A quick ode to the hushpuppy:

My pal E. (better known as a Friend of MA!) was in town for a conference last night, and so she was excellent enough to take me to dinner. I recommended my favorite seafood place in the ATL, so I swung by her deeply foofoo hotel and we set off to Oakland Cemetery. The restaurant is called Six Feet Under, and it's not named after the show. Great seafood place, great atmosphere, and great attention to the history of the Victorian cemetery across the street. I learned what a nimbus was while in the bathroom, for pete's sake! (It's this, for those who care--a cross with a circle around it. My citation is the ladies room wall at SFU.)

We both found ourself planning our dinner around how many hushpuppies were included with the meal. I got my usual carb orgy--the catfish basket--which comes with two perfect little pups. E. went for the platter because it has cole slaw and corn and it made her feel better about herself. Let me add that SFU has Boddington's on tap, and E's the kind of girl (like me, dear reader) who enjoys a creamy ale on tap, and so we were white-moustached like some sort of grown-up milk commerical. ("got ale?")

The pups were worth the planning: crispy exterior that was not difficult to bite through, an onion-based corn meal that kept the inside moist, and an almost sweet spicyness. They were GLORIOUS. I love them. I love all hushpuppies, really, but these little fellows are my favorite. I got through seafood places when I was little and didn't eat seafood by subsisting on the pups. I would try to make them, but I fear they'd just end up like my beignet experiments--dense, mean looking little balls of over-fried dough. I'll live on the memories until my next out-of-town victim.