This morning we met up with my aunt, uncle, and cousins who were passing through on their way to Key West. We found a Denny’s on their route and ended up in a place called St. George, about 35 minutes from us. Apparently this little town has long been a popular stop for northern tourists traveling to Florida. Right before we reached our destination, we passed a street of older brick buildings, most looking abandoned, that piqued our curiosity. We decided to stop for a look on the way back. This was the South we’ve been hoping for, and even though we live in the suburban outskirts of Charleston, we only need to drive twenty minutes in almost any direction to find sleepy little places like this where the history is palpable. Seeing some fallen signs in a vacant storefront, we learned that St. George is the ‘Grits Capital of the World.’ The World Grits Festival, among your typical fest-fun, includes events like gospel music, grits-grinding, and both grits-eating and rolling-in-the-grits contests. I want to see the life that exists here, so there’s a very good chance we’ll be venturing back in April for this (and to see if they have their own town mascot named–what else?–Gritty).