Where is 'da grits'?

The following is the abstract paper that I completed for my English midterm. The class was a third year journalism class. It was supposedly a feature article for a newspaper. Enjoy!!!

It is about 10:00 am. The sun shine would be brighter outside if only it were not marred by the grayish clouds that tell of the anticipated precipitation warranted a few hours thus. Inside a second level living room five students sprawl. They face the roof to knee windows that are the soul to the quarry view residence. In the corner is a 32 inch television in which they watched numerous genre’s of DVD’s the night through. The television sits on a table and alongside the Dolby surround sound DVD player. Underneath the table is a silvery karaoke machine that belongs to a housemate of the student who hosts the sleep-over. One student lays abed the hardwood finish loveseat smothered in blankets, along the off-white left wall of the living room that hides the stairway. Another student stretches out on the matching couch blanket awry. Beyond the couch lurks the kitchen counter dirty and piled with the utensils used in conjunction with the previous evening’s activities. Three lie on the floor on green makeshift mattresses with blue, paisley and green plaid blankets strewn all over a warm Aubusson carpet. These are Bahamian students at Brock University and they discuss their individual pursuits since embarking on their educational journeys in this common land. They decide to have breakfast together. One student, new to Canada wants grits.
‘Let’s eat grits’, says Brooke an exchange student from the College of the Bahamas. Brooke is approximately 5 ft, 3 inches tall with butterscotch coloured skin, neck length kinky brown hair askew and amber eyes that mimic the glint of a feral feline’s in her plumb round face. They twinkle full of mischief.
‘What grits?’ Tiffany a Bahamian student that has been at Brock for three and a half years counters. Tiffany has ink black skin, dark brown eyes, almost no breasts that taper into a slender waist and large hips that trail down into legs as thick as tree trunks. She is 6ft tall. Her short kinky black hair is in a state of total disarray as bespells her now nocturnal less state. ‘They do not have grits in Canada sweet girl, either you cross the border into Buffalo or you bring it up on your trips from home’ she abruptly canters.
‘Yes’, chimes Brendon in an effeminate nature. ‘I bought my stock on my last trip to Buffalo.’ He sports a slight Mohawk in his almost bald head. He maintains a slim build, dark coffee skin tone and is 5 ft 10 inches tall. His broad nose is bulbous and bears semblance to Jim Henson’s Muppet “Telly” of the Children’s Television Workshop Series ‘Sesame Street’.
‘It’s true’, chortles Kamara a full-figured diva of size 18. The bulk of her mass lies between her gargantuan breasts and bulky stomach. She also bears wide yet flat hips that narrow into thighs that begin thick but narrow down into muscular legs. She is 5 ft 5 inches tall, with a smooth mocha and an almost flawless skin texture. Her bubbly personality reveals, ‘I haven’t come across any in the two years since I’ve been here.’ Her short black hair is covered with a silky yet ragged stocking cap that boasts of having seen better days. Brooke’s entire full breasted figure tenses at this; the perplexities are written all over her guileless face. Breakfast in Canada is definitely not what Brooke had anticipated and was put on pause as the students further discussed their experiences with food or lack thereof since entering Ontario. There are apparently no grits in Canada I would come to find out. At least not the Quaker variety of hominy that I find both myself and many of my compatriots became accustomed to as we grew up. As I pondered this notion, I wondered what else I would find myself becoming acclimated with as my tenure goes on. I also wondered what other international students had found queer if not outright odd about their sojourn here as far as food choices in this diverse multi-cultural expanse.
Grits is an American delicacy more prevalent among the Southern States. It is a traditional breakfast food whose origins are tied up with the Native American Indians that lived on continental North America previous to its occupation at Plymouth Rock. It is a concoction of coarsely ground up grain, usually corn that is hulled and boiled until soft. I utilized the internet search engine Google for grits and came up with hits from Native American Indians to the Quakers to a Groundwater Information Tracking System to a Christian Rap Group. What was clear however was that the dish itself is a staple to the American South and as American as Apple pie, maybe even as Canadian as Tim Horton’s. It was brought to the Bahamas during the Loyalist period between the late 1700’s and mid 1800’s by the generous palate of both slave owners and slaves alike. Since then it has become a Bahamian breakfast tradition as well as part and parcel of lore conducive to Bahamian cultural cuisine.
As would imagine one main concern and quite along the gamut of human nature is the value of victuals. I took the opportunity to ask a few International students about their incidents with food since coming to Canada. Almost every single person responded differently. Meet Stella. Stella is approximately 5 ft 10 inches tall and weighs possibly two hundred pounds. Her complexion is fair and she can possibly be called mulatto from her obvious mixed heritage. She claims “…my mum is known to have ‘crazy Spanish blood’ and equal temperament”. This she tells to explain her lineage. Her eyes are dark and sheltered by thin rectangular framed Yves Saint Lauren glasses. Her jet black hair is long, curly and thick; streaked with brown highlights it runs almost the entire length of her back. She keeps it pulled back in a tight ponytail that she wraps in an old fashioned bun at the nape of her neck. The top half or her body is full-figured, accented by a very narrow waist that branches off into wide, full hips that undulates along thick thighs and knocked knees that rub together as she walks. She is of a pleasant countenance and never far away from a smile. She made some immediate calculations when queried of Canadian food.
‘They eat a lot of potatoes versus rice.’ This meant to say that in her native country most dishes are served with rice; here they are instead served with potatoes. Stella, a Caribbean International Student that hails from Trinidad claimed, ‘I miss the pholourie’. This is a national dish in Trinidad of fried dumpling created from a batter of split pea flour and spices; it is packaged and served with a sweet chutney sauce made from tamarinds. Pholourie is sold in stores by the box in Trinidad and Stella brought 3 boxes when she came up for school last August. Stella has heard of grits but she has never tasted it and her knowledge of grits are along the lines of what she has either been told by her sister, who is currently a student at University in Texas, or has heard from other international students. What she did know about grits was, ‘It’s an American breakfast dish right? And quite Southern I believe…’. This detail could not be taken for granted because Stella knew about grits even though she had never tasted it and did not come to Canada anticipating having it for breakfast either.
Gabriela, an exchange student from the Catholic University of Chile, on the other hand loves Canadian food, especially the pastries. She makes several trips to the Tim Horton’s in a week and has a particular craving for cinnamon. She claims, ‘I love trying new things and I see similarities to a lot of the dishes from my home’. She is approximately 5 ft 11 inches tall and bears the golden colouring of a Mayan or an Aztec. Gabriela is beautiful and she knows it. She carries a mirror wherever she goes; not often do you find her without one. Her lengthy pitch black hair is littered with split ends due to chemical processing. She has a model’s figure; ample breasts tucked into a minuscule waist and could in fact almost pass for one except for the breadth of her childbearing hips. Even though she happens to like Canadian food she has found that she has limited herself to what she eats. She claims, ‘…I try not to eat a lot ...’ as she also asserts, ‘...I need to lose ten pounds’. Clearly she finds Canadian foods will pack the pounds with a wallop to her not so diminutive frame. Gabriela does not know what grits is nor has she ever tasted it. However she mentions that there are several variations of cereals in Chile after being briefed on the ingredients and preparation of the dish. Close but no cigar, not grits and quite a poor substitute from this viewpoint.
When venturing away from one’s place of birth or local surroundings, one of the ingredients key to survival is the food. It is a major contributing push or pull factor. Quantity, availability and access are also imperative. Many of the international students here have their personal food preferences. Kimmy, an exchange student from Scandinavia does not like Canadian food. He deems, ‘…it is too fatty’. Kimmy is about 6 ft tall with sandy blonde hair, gorgeous ice blue eyes and creamy alabaster skin. He has a thin, slightly athletic build. He apparently has an aversion to many fried and oil laden dishes that are available for consumption at the cafeterias on campus. In Scandinavia, he devours an assortment of berries, fish and chicken through various modes of preparation. He prefers less of the starch and protein of the typical Canadian diet and would probably like to intake more of the grain similar to the diet of his home. When asked about grits he claims that he has never heard of it but was curious enough to enquire of its nature. After describing the consistency of grits, I found that Kimmy compares it to porridge. He has had porridge many times and in fact maintains that it is served in the Lowenberger dining hall. Upon further investigation his porridge was discovered to be what Bahamians call ‘cream of wheat’. Similar to grits but not quite the same; this hominy, whose grains are just a bit coarser than that which you would find in grits, is ground a tad bit finer. In short it does not constitute the same taste and while served with cream and sugar, grits on the other hand is more often served with butter and salt.
Patty is a minute and shapely African Princess. She is currently in her third year of study at Brock University. In her hair she sports tri-colored micro twists of shoulder length bearing black, brown and reddish hues. She is petite - approximately 5 ft 2 inches and except for the width of her abundant hips, she could be a size zero. She is cocoa coloured and her attractive face bears slight pox marks. She sports a smile, eagerly as she anticipates answering my questions.
“What is Canadian food? Surely not pasta, ‘cause that is Italian…” She also lays burgers at the backdoor of another nation. It is clear from her answers that it is her belief that people stake too much in the novelty of Canadian food.
“…Like what is Canadian food? I know maple syrup is ‘cause it comes from maple trees and maple trees are Canadian right?” Patty claims that she has yet to make contact with food that she can truly call Canadian. One thing that she has noticed about the food in Canada however is that, ‘…they eat a lot of potatoes…’. Patty’s insecurities seem to stem from the precept of definition.
“Canadian food would be food that is unique to Canada right?” Driving her point home she alleges that she has yet to eat food in Canada that cannot be found anywhere else in the world or is indigenous to Canada alone. When asked about her personal palate she asserts “…I eat food from home. I make it.” Initially I had assumed that she referred to the food that she cooked at her home in Tupper. She meant Ghanaian meals such as ‘jollof’ which is a rice dish cooked in tomato sauce, spices and protein of choice - be it beef, chicken or pork. Initially, she is not sure if she has ever eaten grits due to the fact that she has a Bahamian roommate that cooks often. Grits is then described to her.
“Now that you mention it … I have had it, but I like it with cream and sugar…it is white and soft … we eat it hot.”
The quest to find grits brought me to the city of Ottawa in northern Ontario. Here two Bahamian students at Carleton University contend to have found grits. Randi, a toffee coloured young lady with kinky black hair cropping her heart shaped face alleges she accidently discovered it at her local Loeblaws store. She is about 5ft 10 inches tall, with a buxom bosom, flat stomach, narrow waist and expansive yet flat hips attached to endless colt’s legs. She is a sweetheart, often caught with a cross-dimensional, faraway look on her face, a trait associated with the astigmatism that plagues her. She perches at the table next to the window. ‘Loeblaws has grits’ she declared. ‘Yes’, reiterates Nevardo another Bahamian student his 5 ft 7 inch lean muscular frame covered by brown skin, charming and quite striking. The light comes in through the window, exposed due to the fact that the wooden bamboo horizontal blinds are always open. It glints off of his bald angular shaped head. As he moves around the kitchen, complete with appliances, straight out of the early nineties refrigerator, dishwashing machine and stove, full eyes peering out of a serious face meet mine. He stands in front of the sink and washes out a medium sized stainless steel pot. Out of a stained russet cupboard he pulls out a transparent package similar to an elongated Ziploc bag. Covering 70% of the package in a red Arial font bordered with gold it reads Nu-Pak Cornmeal # 120. On the inside is a yellow grainy substance. He places the pot on the beige electric range; the kind that has the heating elements on the top of the stove. In the pot he pours approximately two cups of water, sprinkles a pinch of salt and sets the temperature range between medium and high. He objective is to bring the contents of the pot to a boil. Approximately 5 minutes passes before he cautiously measures out a cup of the cornmeal, pouring it into the pot, stirring sporadically. In goes a dollop of butter and it is covered. Time goes by in a blur as we chit chat getting caught up in the antics of pastimes associated with grits at our Bahamian hearths. Another 5 minutes go by. He stirs the pot again and reduces the heating. In about twenty minutes the yellow cornmeal # 120 is done. It appears my quest has just ended. In Ottawa I surrender to the realization that I will not receive the Quaker variety of hominy that I am accustomed to at home but I have come to the conclusion that Nu-Pak Cornmeal # 120 if cooked just right tastes just like grits.