The mere mention of southern cuisine conjures up mind-images of moss covered cypress alongside lazy dirt roads. A tale set in the South, without the smells, tastes, and devotion put into its dishes would feel like half a tale. It's as essential as the characters and scenery. In my novel, The Clock Of Life , there are a few southern "flavor" firsts for the protagonist, Jason Lee, not the least being, moonshine. I brought it up to my lips. “This stuff smells like my mama’s nail polish remover.” “Just drink,” Samson said. Not one second after I took my first swig a fire hit the back of my throat, then roared through my chest and settled like smoldering embers in my belly. “Tastes bad as it smells,” I said between chokes. “This stuff’s made for the kick, not the taste. Try not to taste it.” I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. “White lightnin ain’t for sissies.” “No, it ain’t, but this here’s be...
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