I learned my first lesson about the connection between politics and food in Edgefield, S.C. The county between Augusta and Columbia, S.C., has produced 10 South Carolina governors, including Strom Thurmond, so I went there on a reporting trip to find out more about the days when Democrats ruled the conservative territory.
At a barbecue restaurant outside of town, my host, a carpenter named “Mr. Carpenter,” asked if I’d like chicken or pork.
“I’ll take chicken,” I said.
Disappointed, Carpenter shook his head and said, “I knew you were a liberal.”
I tried to take that lesson to heart this summer as I traveled throughout Georgia in my first year as an Atlanta Journal-Constitution political columnist. The best way to learn about a place is to live it. So I hit the road with an open mind and, as I wrote earlier this year, an open tummy.
Knowing that food is a huge piece of Georgia hospitality and culture, I resolved to eat anything put in front of me. But my plan quickly went off the rails on my trip to Columbus and a local institution called the Dinglewood Pharmacy.
I was meeting Chuck Williams, a veteran Columbus reporter, for lunch, and asked what he suggested. “A Scrambled Dog!” he said. “It’s Columbus on a plate.”
I’ll stop here briefly to mention that I typically try to eat “clean and green.” As a longtime runner, I usually avoid lots of things that Southerners hold dear, including biscuits, pork, red meat, fried food, bacon, sausage. You name it, and I probably didn’t eat it.
A “Scrambled Dog” definitely didn’t sound clean or green. But as I pulled up to the pharmacy trying to think up a Plan B, I saw a historical marker — not for the pharmacy, but for the Scrambled Dog.
The large brass sign explained that the dish was a concoction of a hot dog and steamed bun, cut into bite-size pieces, doused in copious amounts of chili, and topped with cheddar cheese, pickles, ketchup and, for reasons I still don’t understand, oyster crackers.
President Jimmy Carter served them at the White House. Prince Charles had one served on a silver platter. Scrambled Dogs had been requested everywhere from the Georgia Governor’s Mansion to a wedding in Saudi Arabia.
It was as much a local celebrity as the Aflac duck. I decided I would eat one, too, so Chuck ordered two.
And that was the way it went in city after city.
I had hummus sandwiches in the liberal college town of Athens with Mayor Kelly Girtz, a vegan of course, at Big City Bread Cafe.
In Savannah, former state Sen. Eric Johnson suggested the Maple Street Biscuit Co. on historic West Broughton Street.
I ordered a “green bowl,” thinking it was a salad, but soon realized I’d ordered a biscuit, topped with collard greens, a fried egg and hot sauce. Why anyone would put those four together, I still don’t know. But the combination, alongside Johnson’s decades-worth of inside scoop, was curiously tasty.
For my trip to Gainesville, state Sen. Butch Miller suggested Collegiate on the Square, a sunny diner where so many people walked past his table and yelled “Hey Butch!” that he may as well have been in his own living room. He ordered burgers, fries and a chocolate milkshake for the table to share.
It was a far cry from the scene that usually surrounds him as the Senate president pro tem at the Georgia Capitol, but that was the point of the drive to Hall County.
More trips meant meeting more people at their favorite hometown haunts, along with the men and women running local businesses there.
It was first names only at Harvest on Main in Blue Ridge, where everyone from the hosting staff to the manager called House Speaker David Ralston “David,” instead of “Mr. Speaker,” as they do in Atlanta.
In the town of Buckhead, Bill Bonner Jr. has run Bonner’s Restaurant since his father retired from the massive dining hall that the family started decades earlier.
Although Bonner’s is usually closed on Wednesdays, Bill Bonner opened to serve fried catfish and Brunswick stew when state Rep. Dave Belton asked if he’d be willing.
During the peanut harvest in Ocilla, state Sen. Tyler Harper traded harvest updates with farmers at Hutto’s BBQ, a meat-and-three outside of town.
My favorite order anywhere was the Mexican mocha at Inman Perk in Gainesville, a sign of the changing times in Hall County, where Latinos make up more than half the population.
Food in Georgia politics is more than a meal — it’s a view into the world where voters live and state leaders listen, absorb and represent.
The worst meals were the ones I skipped — rushing to get a column in by deadline or a carpool picked up on time.
And the most memorable, by far, was the Scrambled Dog. Just as Chuck Williams promised, it was Columbus on a plate — and in a room. Over my pile of chopped-up chili dogs and oyster crackers, I heard about its political power centers, local legends and sidebar scandals.
And the food, readers, was delicious.
About the Author
