there was that little mexican diner on the outskirts of town, with the pineapple pork sopes. that time we ate in the rain after work, pablo waiting in the car. then there was that pizza joint right by the house, with the lotto machine against the dark back wall. the dim lights and the waitress with the ruby lipstick. after a horrendous day at work, the greasy dough went down like manna.
but two weeks ago, we finally found that little hole in the wall we've so desperately sought for so long.
it's called becky's and mary's. there is no sign out front and the only way you wouldn't just drive right past it is by word of mouth. oh, and this article. becky and mary are sisters and together, along with their brother dennis, they have been dishing up soul food in high point since 1961.
the first time we went, we discovered the fried chicken, with its crispy golden crust and buttery meat. there were black-eyed peas and collard greens. homemade potato salad and rice with a deep brown gravy. on saturday, we went back, for candied yams and more rice. moist cornbread. sweet tea with a splash of lemonade. robert tried the juicy porkchop.
the sisters write orders on post-it notes and the food comes out on styrofoam plates with plastic utensils.
it's become a weekend tradition, our new little spot. where people say bless your heart and there's no such thing as an empty cup. i think we found our little soul nook beside the worn out church. it's not fancy, but then again, neither are we.