Southern Hospitality

Yesterday I was sitting on my back deck after work enjoying a book, when my neighbor came out on his deck. He's got all white hair, with a great droopy dog 'stache to boot. He also loves to grill, which is usually when we will have our conversations. His grill is sweet too, a huge stainless steel set up, at least 6 ft long, and he is always grilling things that he apparently just hunted (he had quail on there a week ago.)

I put my book down for a moment and went inside to grab a glass of water, and when I came back he was standing there with something wrapped in tinfoil. When he saw me, he threw it across the deck my way.

"Here's a little tri tip I've been slow cooking, and chicken with my homemade rub. Let me know what you think, when I open my restaurant I'll be serving this."

Now, before I give you my response, I have mention that the book I'm reading is "To Kill a Mockingbird." It's an American classic, and one of my all-time favorites that I recently picked up to re-read. Atticus Finch is the coolest guy around, and reading about how he talks to his kids about what they should and should not be doing to ol' Boo Radley always gets me.

So I'm deep into the book when my neighbor throws his food at me, and for some reason (I don't really know why) I respond like I'm a born and raised Southerner.

"That's mighty fine of you sir, I 'preciate it very much. I'm always hankering for some good bbq, I'm-a head inside and eat this right now."

I turned around and walked into the house with my face absolutely beet red with embarrassment. Why in the sam hell did reading a book based in Alabama get me talking southern all of a sudden?