Eatin’ habits seem to vary based on what area of the country a person lives in, or at least grows up in.
I think I’m somewhat of an expert on this subject since I’m married to a Yankee. Oh, excuse me, a Yankee-transplanted-in-the-South-fellow, which is still pretty much a Yankee, if you ask me. The Duppster hasn’t been in South Carolina quite long enough to learn how to eat southern.
He finally tried that southern delicacy we call boiled peanuts. Much to his credit, Dupp even had a second one. It’s pretty safe to say, though, that he thinks he can live without ‘em.
Now, I’ve never professed to be the best cook in the world, but, if I were, Dupp wouldn’t know it. That’s because he adds ketchup/catsup to just about everything – without even tasting it first.
If I fix scrambled eggs and cheese, he adds ketchup. If it’s scrambled eggs and salmon, he adds ketchup.
This past weekend I fixed a big ol’ pot of chicken bog. First of all, chicken bog is rather peculiar to South Carolina; it’s not even a common meal anywhere else in the southeast, so it’s easy to figure that chicken bog is totally foreign to folks from above the Mason-Dixon line.
When this fine concoction of chicken, hot sausage, lots of onion, peppers, a bit of garlic, salt, bacon bits and a few other special additions was ready, what did Dupp do? He pulled out something with a ketchup base and poured it all over the bog.
Even as a ketchup-holic, there’s one thing he absolutely won’t put ketchup on, though: hot dogs.