Much has been said about my apparent loathing of all things Southern. After "Attacking the Beloved South" in a September column, I received personal e-mails from over 75 kind residents of the South, many of whom suggested I should add a variety of titles to my resume, including "Northern wannabe," "ignorant college boy" and "dumb bigot."
Sensing that I had become out of touch with my cultural heritage, I embarked on a quest to reconnect with my inner-Southerner. But where could I go? Tractor pulls and NASCAR races seemed a little out of my league; I figured I needed to take a few baby steps before I would be ready to think about attending a Toga party with just the Stars and Bars wrapped around my body.
I next asked myself where else Southerners congregate. "I know!" I exclaimed. "I'll go to church!" No, wait... my sentiments on "The Divine Cruelty" being somewhat well-known across campus, I didn't think I could pull off any attempts to get in touch with my inner-Baptist, Methodist or Pentecostal.
All this reflection had worked up my appetite, so I started heading over to Rick's. "Wait a minute," I said, exclaiming for a second time. "Good Southern cookin' is what I need."
My revelation led me to Chapel Hill's and Durham's most widely acclaimed home-cookin' establishments: Dip's and Bullock's Barbecue, respectively. Having grown up in the Triangle, I'd been to both before, but now, however, I was going with a new mindset.
Always hoping to aid in the collective pleasure of the Duke community--and also to fulfill a secret fantasy of donning the hat of Recess staff member for a day--I thought I might offer to share my observations. Recess, luckily, was good enough to oblige me.
Specialties of the house:
As its name implies, Bullock's makes superb barbecue. The chopped stuff is pretty good, but the piîrce de resistance--or, in southern vernacular, the best dadgum stuff you ever did taste--is their sliced barbecue. It's money. It's so good it could be used as currency; it's so good that it could be featured on trading cards and sold with gum.
Everyone says that Dip's makes fried chicken to die for. Everyone could very well be right. Unfortunately, when it comes to body image I am indeed the "little bitch" my Southern admirers so affectionately call me. Rather than remove the skin and look like the dainty transplanted Northerner so many assume me to be, I thought I'd just pass.
Dip's will dish out some beef barbecue that's pretty decent in its own right, and I prefered its Brunswick stew, but there's no comparison to the pork at Bullock's. It might not be a fair fight, but I give the edge to Bullock's.
Bread riots:
Now here is a tough battle. Bullock's turns butter and flour (in that order, by the way) into the best hush puppies ever. Period. Make sure to come at a busy time and you'll get them piping hot and be tempted to eat the entire basket faster than you can say "yankee." On the other hand, Dip's cornbread is stellar, and complements any Southern meal whether it be barbecue, broiled fish, black-eyed peas, Brunswick stew or anything else. Considering I already penalized Dips for its fried chicken, I'll return the favor here, as its cornbread, merely by default if nothing else, can't be half as bad for you as Bullock's hush puppies.
The Tie-breaker... Vegetables:
It's close, but Bullock's is the choice. Whether you get pole beans, green beans, black-eyed peas or steamed apples, you will come away more than satisfied. Dip's choices are good too, and according to hack aficionados, they're better, but frankly, they just didn't taste as good.
Verdict:
If you're looking to impress a date, take her/him to Dip's. The ambiance (especially if you can sit outside) is much nicer, and, besides, the food is more expensive. If, however, you're taking someone already impressed with you (or, conversely, someone who's given up the hope that you might ever be impressive), choose substance over style and go to Bullock's.
Am I a Southern boy now?
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