This weekend I had brunch at No. 7 (I had dinner there once before, but not brunch), and I had the most amazing grits of my life, which I am still thinking about right now.
It came served, unassuming, in a small white bowl. The description on the menu was "Grits with Shredded Pork, Napa Cabbage and Swiss." One bite, and I felt like Anton Ego in Ratatouille: instantly transported to a time in my childhood. Where did I have this taste before? It tasted like a dish my grandma had cooked, but my grandmother has never made grits. Why did it then taste so familiar?
Grits I have had in the past have tasted like a vehicle for butter and cheese, but this was different. Was it made with meat broth? Is that what gave it the rich taste? It was so hearty, so warm, like sitting in front of a roaring fire at home during a blizzard.
The side of grits blew away the main that I had ordered (corned beef hash with fried eggs). After the last bite, I still hadn't pinpointed what it was that made the dish so special. It looked simple, yet had such complex flavors.
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