What the Kitchen Knows...Pimento Cheese

Hey Everyone:

How’s your summer been? For me, it’s been hot, humid, and rainy with lots of thunder and lightning. But that’s the way it is here in East Tennessee. Although I love a good thunderstorm, there are days when I’ve had enough of the crashing and booming and the constant deluge of rain, rain, rain. Even so, I’m happy to be a resident of this lush, green state.

Every day brings an adventure of one kind or another. And it’s not just the mountains or lakes, music or sports, museums or galleries: it’s the people and the culture. That Southern charm and hospitality has a way of getting inside and taking root in your very soul. It’s the traditions, and like all traditions, change is not allowed. It is what it is, and will always be the same. The rules just ARE. And no one knows why.

Those rules? They apply to everything. Yes, everything. Especially food. Take for instance, a beloved classic no self-respecting Southern home would be without: Pimento Cheese. This is a dish held near and dear to every hostess and cook across the region. It’s also a dish I don’t quite understand.

First of all, no one, and I mean no one, has an actual recipe, handwritten or otherwise. It’s just something every person in East Tennessee knows and is born with.

Second of all, each family holds a secret to their pimento cheese. Even though there’s no recipe there’s definitely a secret ingredient of some kind, and it’s held close.

One day I got up the courage to ask my neighbor her secret. She sucked in her breath and her eyes opened wide. “Oh, my,” she said in her sweet southern voice, “That’s my momma’s secret, and she got it from her momma, who got it from her momma. I couldn’t possibly…” She let that last sentence drift away. But she brightened and said, “Tell you what. I’ll make a batch and bring you some.”

To be honest, I wasn’t sure I even wanted pimento cheese. My only experience with said cheese happened as a child, growing up. We always had dozens of those little jars filled with an unsatisfying, somewhat questionable version of pimento cheese. That’s what it said on the label anyway. Honestly, though, it was some kind of processed, plastic-y, yellow goop with bits of pimento running through it. And my mom stuffed more sticks of celery with that cheese than I can remember. Seriously, it wasn’t appetizing. But that didn’t matter to my mom, because she had an ulterior motive. Those jars were just the right size for a serving of juice. Orange juice, grape juice, apple juice. Even tomato juice. I guess that became our tradition: celery stuffed with pimento cheese for the sake of the jars and the desire to drink juice.

So, I was skeptical when my neighbor arrived on my doorstep with a crock of home-made pimento cheese. I invited her in and offered her tea. In turn she invited me to try the cheese, and when she uncovered the crock, she flashed me a grin. I’ll have to say I was very surprised. Her cheese looked nothing like the cheese in a jar which I remembered from my childhood. “I’ll get some crackers,” I blurted and reached for the pantry door.

?Before I could even pull a roll of Ritz from the box, I heard her say, “Oh, bless your heart.” I stopped dead. I knew what that phrase meant. Once again, I’d done something foolish and wrong. So, I turned with a look of confusion splattered across my face. “Ummm…”, was all I could get out.

“Y’all from California are just plain weird,” she laughed. “You don’t eat pimento cheese on crackers. You put it on toast. Or a burger. Or just make a sandwich. With tomato.” Then she flushed. “Or…you could just put it on a cracker, I guess.”

Boy, was I relieved! So, crackers it was. And a glass of red…and maybe another glass of red. We laughed and joked and before dinner time came, we’d gobbled up nearly all of that delicious cheese. It was so good I asked for the recipe. But she wouldn’t give it to me. Why? Because of the secret family ingredient that her momma gave her, and her momma gave her, and so on and so on.

That didn’t stop me, though. I went out and found my own recipe; one that will become a tradition. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll add a secret ingredient of my own.

Pimento Cheese taught me a lot. It’s a tradition with no standard recipe, yet everybody knows how to make a batch. It’s all the same, and yet, it’s all different, because each person makes it their own, and makes it unique.

To me, that sounds a lot like the clients I serve, and the marketing they do. Before I can develop effective strategies and write powerful content, I need to know who they are, what they value, and what traditions never change. I also need to know who they serve. Because when I know them, and I know the audience they serve, I can add that one secret ingredient – that one special something that makes them unique and helps them sell more. ?Who wouldn’t want that?

So, go find the audience you serve. Know who they serve and what they value. And remember to add that one secret ingredient that makes the difference.

Here’s to Pimento Cheese!

Mary Vosika | Owner/Director | True Voice Copy

P.S. If your strategies are lagging and your content is sagging and you need some help engaging your audience then I can help. Contact me at [email protected].