43. Cracker Barrel

"Cracker Barrel" by keithlam

You’d think the novelty of nostalgia would have worn off by now, but judging from the ever-crowded parking lot, I reckon not. But then Cracker Barrel combines two of Southern women’s greatest loves: eating and shopping. Also, you can get in quite a bit of gossiping, too, depending on who you run into and how long you have to wait for a table.

I’m not going to extol the virtues of Cracker Barrel’s food, because I fail to see any. Ok, I’ll admit, they do have some good pecan pancakes that come with wee bottles of maple syrup. I know this because whenever I’d come home to visit, Mom would wake me up WAAAAY early the next day (like around 9:00) to go get some pancakes.

"Sweet Treats" by Lorianne DiSabato

What Cracker Barrel lacks in culinary skills, they make up for in kitsch. Where else are you going to find cornbread pans, patriotic clocks, wooden toys, and old-timey candy all in one place? Ok, maybe your grandmother’s house. But the candy will likely be not so much old-timey as just plain old.

"Peg Leg" by JasonChamberlain

There’s plenty to look at while you wait, and the fun doesn’t stop after you’re seated. Who’s up for a challenging round of the peg game? You know the one with a triangle-shaped piece of wood featuring pegs filled with golf tees? The object is to “jump” and remove the other tees, leaving only one tee standing. It sounds more exciting than it is. But then, maybe I’m just bitter because I’ve yet to win.

I’ve only ever been to Cracker Barrel for breakfast because from what I hear, that’s the only meal worth eating. However, I can’t imagine the food would be any worse than the short-lived “Po Folks” that we used to patronize frequently in college. Because, hey, we WERE po folks, and most anything beats Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.

Though I do enjoy poking around in the general store, I haven’t eaten at Cracker Barrel in the last three years. My mom loved those pancakes enough to endure breakfast with a grumpy, jetlagged daughter, and it wouldn’t feel right eating them without her.

4. White rocking chairs

Why is it that the very minute a Southerner acquires a front porch (or reasonable facsimile), she must run to Cracker Barrel and buy a white rocking chair? Visit any Southern neighborhood with a decent concentration of front porches (shouldn’t be too hard to find), and you’ll see what I mean – oodles of white rocking chairs. What you won’t see is anybody actually sitting (much less rocking) in them.

I figure this has to do with the romantic notion that Southern folks sit around on the front porch drinking lemonade or mint juleps 24/7. Sure, they would like to. But they’ve got jobs, soccer games, and dentist appointments just like anybody else.

Maybe the white rocker symbolizes a Southerner’s desire to return to the simpler days. Back when folks talked instead of texting. Before “Gossip Girl” replaced good old-fashioned gossip. When the Black Eyed Peas were something you ate with cornbread.

As far as symbols go, I reckon the white rocking chair is pretty harmless. Sure beats the lawn jockey.