Wednesday, June 26, 2013
I think itís about time I make a trip back to the Lowcountry.
Youíre probably guessing all the reasons why: Visit friends, have a daiquiri, have a laugh, have a photo op (for posting on Facebook.) Well, thatís part of it.
You might also be thinking I want to take a walk on that serene, soul-healing stretch of beach at Pawleys Island, towards the jetties at north end.
Youíre probably surmising that while there, Iíll listen to the pounding surf, pick up seashells and reminisce about the good old days during the ten years hub-Russ and I lived there, before we moved to Wilmington.
Youíre getting closer.
Maybe you think Iíd like to duck in the stores, boutiques and wineries that carry my ďLife is ShortĒ trilogy to shop-til-I-drop, check my book inventory and thank them for so many years of selling and supporting me.
Yep, thatís it, too.
But another reason Ė in addition to all of those Ė is to buy a favorite food item. Yep, Iím tee-totally out of Trappist Monk ginger preserves that I buy at the Piggly Wiggly in Litchfield.
Itís awesome on bagels with cream cheese, or just straight out of the jar, eaten with a spoon.
Itís also great in ice-cold Southern tea.
I just strain it before I drink it.
When I go there, Iíll be sure to say hi to Jeff Landis, the manager, Augie, Mary Joy and all of my old friends, but I wonít waste anytime heading to the ďpreserves aisle.Ē
Plus, they carry my books Ė hopefully they are sold out.
And, yíall, Iím not the only one hooked on ginger preserves.
No sir! Iíve gotten my eleven-year old, super-picky-eater granddaughter, Madison, loving it too.
†She hates most vegetables, but she loves this Ė this Ė what is it?
A root? Duh! Itís not called gingerroot for nothing.
In fact, thatís one reason Iím out of it.
When Madison comes to visit us she heads straight to the fridge and fixes herself some toast (ends trimmed, I told you she was picky) and preserves.
Actually, I think I gave her the last jar I owned.
I took it to her home in Raleigh as a surci.
Our other granddaughter, Carly, loves peanut brittle, so I brought her a bag of that.
I also have a friend, Carol, near Atlanta that is a confirmed ginger preserves addict.
Iíve given her presents in the past with crackers and other goodies, but always a few jars of the glistening chunky golden stuff is tucked inside.
Weíre both foodies and she appreciates this delicacy as much as I do.
And it has to be the brand name Trappist Monk.
Iíve tried several other brands and itís just not the same.
Either itís too bland, too sickeningly sweet or too hard to spread.
Iíve probably eaten three dozen jars of T. M.ís ginger preserves over my lifetime and Iíve never, ever once been disappointed. Itís consistently perfect. And we all know that ginger is extremely good for our health.
Even Dr. Oz says so.
When I told my friend recently about this upcoming trip, she asked me why I didnít just order the preserves online.
Do what? Heavens to Mergatroid. Horrors.
Itís almost an abomination to me to buy this stuff anywhere but the first place I discovered it, the Pig.
It practically seems sanctioned for me to get it there. I just donít think it would taste the same coming from anywhere else.
So now you can add ginger preserves right up there with all of the other reasons to go visit Pawleys Island.
Yes, Iíll try to squeeze in a trip to Brookgreen Gardens.
Iíll hope to visit a few of the new shops: did somebody say Chicoís?
Iíll sit by the water, dining at Austins Ocean One and have a delicious meal (and a beautiful view.) Heck, Iíll even ride by our old house in Pawleys Retreat and stop by and see my dear former neighbor, Bobbie McCoy, if we can work it out.
Thereís only one thing: I realize that by writing this column some of you may say, ďHey! Iíve never tried ginger preserves.
If itís that good, Iím going to go buy some.Ē To you I say, ďPlease donít.Ē You wouldnít want to break a Southern girlís heart, would you?
Ann Ipock ďLife is Short, I Wish I Was TallerĒ email@example.com www.annipock.com.
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