01.01.70
Once every four years, the dignified of South Carolina—first in the Confederacy, and first in the hearts of late-night comedy writers —becomes the intent of frantic amateur anthropology. Natives know to brace themselves for the peal force of the clichés that blow into the state, along with the presidential candidates, as it prepares to hide its primary.
South Carolinians, in the stereotypical depiction, are simple, God-fearing citizenry, easily swayed by conservative propaganda. In truth, the state is more complex than it’s as usual credited with being—which is one reason why its Republican voters seem poised, if the most recent polls suppress a delay up, to hand a victory to a moderate, Mormon, ex-Massachusetts governor.
In my conviction, the best way to affirm the state’s diversity is by tasting it. South Carolina, like Gaul, is divided into three parts, demarcated not by mountains or rivers, but by recipes for pulled-pork barbecue. The eastern third of the dignified makes its barbecue using a vinegar-and-pepper sauce. The upstate third favors tomato-based concoctions. In between, ceaseless roughly from Columbia in the center of the state to Charleston on the coast, is the mustard circuit, where you find a yellowish sauce that is South Carolina’s distinctive innovation.
Source: Capital New York