Avram Lyon

Knocked Down on the Slaughterhouse Floor

My mother grew up in Washington when it was still a southern town, and despite the fact that we kept kosher she cooked southern. She would substitute turkey for ham and non-dairy creamer for buttermilk. I can’t remember a picnic in Rock Creek Park that didn’t include southern fried chicken made in an old “seasoned” skillet (not a deep-fat fryer), potato salad, coleslaw and watermelon. And she made the best fried green tomatoes I ever ate. I come by my love of southern cooking genetically.