Off to Smithfield

by Bella Rum

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My mother’s father was a Virginia peanut farmer. I always think of him when I hang this one on the tree. 

H played golf yesterday and came home exhilarated. I think we spend too much time together. If the weather is like this in January, I’ll never see him. I better find a hobby.

I cleaned bathrooms, did laundry, cleaned the kitchen and wrapped stocking stuffers yesterday while the debate played in the background. I was a good citizen as well as a cleaning-wrapping-washing fool. I can’t say enough about one-level living. It rocks.

Today’s plan is to drive down to Smithfield, get our redeye ham, stop by Plantation Peanuts in Wakefield (near my grandparent’s homeplace) for some of those Virginia nuts (and samples), and eat lunch at the Virginia Diner.

It’s a bit of a drive, but we do it every year. It’s a thing. You know? A task, but fun, too. A tradition, I guess. If you like salty ham, a Red Eye from Smithfield is delicious. We like it sliced paper-thin and on one of those sweet Cobblestone mini-rolls. The sweetness of the bread cuts the salt. I understand if you don’t like salty ham. It’s an acquired taste. Besides being delicious, I like the Red Eye because it’s small and boneless and ready to eat, not an ounce is wasted. I don’t have to do a thing but slice it. A little potato salad, a deviled egg and you have a meal worthy of a king.

The Virginia Diner is just what its name proclaims, a diner that serves southern, home-style fare. I see a salad for my dinner.

So that’s the plan.

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