A True Southerner I am Not

Litmus Test

I'm afraid as much as I like the south I'll never quite be an adopted southerner. There is one barrier I will not breech: sweet tea. I love iced tea. I drink it constantly. Here in the great PNW iced tea means brewed tea over ice--no sugar or lemon. You add these embellishments yourself.
I learned quick in North Carolina to ask for "unsweet tea" or else I'd be given what I describe as "caffeinated hummingbird nectar".

One bright Sunday morning we stopped at the local Bojangles for a try of their lunch food since we liked their breakfast biscuit offerings. John got a refill of sweet tea because he didn't want to get the unsweet by going up to the counter. I thought I'd be brave and try a sip of it since people say that Bojangle's sweet tea is one of the best.

I choked. I sputtered. I proclaimed: This taste like a frosted flake with added sugar! Oh my god! It's liquid frosted flakes!

Much to my amazement John agreed! He did say there was a frosted flake quality to the tea.

It occurred to me at that moment as much as I might integrate into the south one day, perhaps even taking on a bit of a drawl, and maybe even acquiring a taste for other such local culinary favorites (everyone says frog's legs are delicious), I do not see in my future any ability to stomach sweet tea.