I Love Slocomb
We visited Slocomb, Alabama often when I was a kid because my mother’s first cousin, Trudy, lived there on a family farm. It was always special visiting our country relatives because of all the open space, manure, old barns; you know… cool stuff. And then, there was the cooking. It all came straight off the farm. In other words, the fried chicken for lunch (and I love fried chicken) clucked in the chicken coop that very morning.
Slocomb seemed a thousand miles away but when we rolled into town, the rusty tin roofs of the grain silos and farm buildings were a clear sign that we were there.
Today, when you drive into Slocomb, the same rusty roofs are still present. Things haven’t changed much and I suppose that is one reason why I love it.
There are two other reasons: Tomatoes and Zack’s.
Slocomb is widely known as the tomato capital of the south. There is something about the tomatoes that will shame a green house tomato. Some say it is the soil but what ever it is, Slocomb is to the tomato what Vidalia is to the onion. So, every July, we trek to Slocomb to pick tomatoes then spend the rest of the weekend canning them.
Tomato gravy and a cat head biscuit on a cold winter day makes me happy. Then, there is a quart of homemade Slocomb tomato juice in a hot pot of vegetable soup. For the sake of transparency, I should also report that the juice makes wonderful bloody Mary cocktails but that is incidental.
We try to pick the tomatoes early because it gets hot in a tomato field in July. But the real reason is to get to Zack’s before the crowd and while the buffet is still fresh with golden fried chicken, pork chops, county fried steak and a wide variety of stuff that will otherwise kill you. Leave your cholesterol conscience at home because this is the real deal.
It might be the best country buffet in the south. On any given day in July, you can find fried green tomatoes and fried corn bread on the buffet table. The kind of corn bread made from fine ground, plain corn meal and mixed with water then deep fried; like cousin Trudy’s. Kind of makes you want to slap your mama.
We were there recently and when I went up to pay my bill the owner asked, “Are you Sheriff Frank McKeithen from Panama City?
“No,” I told her, “but I am sure he would be flattered to think you thought so.”
Why in the world would she think I was Sheriff McKeithen, I wondered? Maybe it was the three times I apprehended that fried chicken or the way I arrested that pork chop. Perhaps it was the banana pudding I took into custody.
I ran into Frank once at a Bozeman volleyball game and while we watched the game; we talked about our routine of seeking out greater Deep South culinary establishments on weekends. There are some things we have common. A fine country dining establishment is one of them.
I suppose there are other things I like about Slocomb. Everyone I meet seems happy. I like the fact that the pace is slow and things don’t change all that often. I think about that sometimes and wonder what it must be like to live where local government worries more about the people who live in their town instead of the people that might.
A Panama City commissioner reminded us recently that if we wanted to see the waterfront in our city, we should buy waterfront property. In Slocomb, you don’t have own the farm to see the farming. There are no high rise condominiums to shade the tomato plants or obstruct the view; no real estate gold rush to inflate the taxes or alter the landscape, and no developers to manipulate local government. They may be there… but I sure don’t see them.
I know I’m on the outside looking in, but Slocomb looks to me like a town for good farming, good people, great tomatoes, and great country cooking.
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About Me
The life of any News Director is stressful most days... so, when the weekend rolls around I find myself on the back roads of our bountiful and beautiful part of the state looking for bluegrass music, interesting things to do, and, of course, fried chicken. I will try to share some of these "finds" with you. There are a thousand stories left to be told or simply remembered. Don't expect to find them all here; maybe just a little stroll down memory lane or maybe a little skewed insight into topical issues.
Larche Hardy,
News Director
All My Entries:
- Nashville Bluegrass at IBMA
- Marty Raybon and Georgia Bluegrass
- Curse of the Acoustic Guitar
- A Millville Hero
- Bluegrass at BAMA JAM a hit!
- Bird watching not a bore
- No Poet Laureate
- Let the Bluegrass begin
- Hurry Spring
- Alabama’s Highway 52
- Cell Phone Interuptus
- Bellying up to the bar
- Resolutions are Doomed to Failure
- Bah-dad-gum-Humbug
- A hunting we will go!
- Hot Stuff!
- My new camo hat… A bargain at $34
- The Road Trip
- “If you don’t want to make the news, just don’t do it.”
- Hostage
- Not a Cat Person
- Hollywood - Here I don’t come…
- Found: a cure for the blues…
- It won’t be long…
- Not Enough Historical Markers, I say…
- Evolution takes many forms
- Revisiting Vernon
- All I know is that it’s hot…
- I Love Slocomb
- The Not-So-Casual Traveler
- The Casual Historian
Other News13 Blogs:
- The Casual Historian - Larche Hardy
- Derby Girl - Enocha Van Lierop
- The Newby - Jessi Chapin
- Gainesville, Georgia's All American Girl - Tuquyen Mach
