more breakfast crimes

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Luke here again, on a new day. Having decried biscuits and gravy two days in a row I now pledge to denounce Midwest breakfast foods no longer.
Given grits are about as far removed from any breakfast food in the Western Hemisphere let alone the flatlands of the Missouri frontier, I have no compunction in denouncing them for the grotesque and morbid misadventure they are.

In Missouri's defence, grits are an unwelcome overstayer. Kind of like Taco Bell, tornadoes, and the KC Royals. But this great little state must shoulder some of the blame, given grits are here. And so am I. If I wasn't here, there would be much less of a problem.

Grits and I, is not a marriage made in heaven.
Neither was biscuits and gravy, but they're sorta like Chihuahua dogs: small, unassuming, and appreciated by a minority.

Nobody appreciates grits. Like granulated, rehydrated kitty litter, grits are normally reserved for prisoners tired of making sandwiches from the foundations of their cell-room floor. When we toured Platte County Penitentiary (Missouri's most efficient and well-oiled correctional facility) we saw guests chewing patiently through their mattresses, plates of grits sitting idly by.

Within seconds of setting down the breakfast crockery, grits will form a hard crust across the outermost layer - this is to stop much of the human despair and pestilence hidden within from escaping and infecting your cornflakes.
It is best to leave grits to stand for about...oooh, I dunno, till lunchtime. At which time you should fix an appropriate midday meal and rinse the grits down the sink. Grits are uglier than a plateful of mortal sins. My generous host, Mr Lee Pedego of Hickory Hollow, delivered a sizable portion this morning to the New Zealand Rotary team table with his kindest regards, a subtle smirk, and his tongue wedged well and truly in his cheek.
He later confessed grits were simply a good excuse to eat Maple Syrup.
I think grits are a good excuse to diet.

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