The Humidor of Murfessboro, TN's 310 Battleground. In a Grabow Savoy. The scene: in the kitchen as Miss Perique is frying up some catfish*. I char, I light. Miss Perique says, "OMG, what is that? Can I eat that?"
* side note, true story: Several years ago a friend of Miss Perique's visited from England. Good redneck English girl. Cop. 4-wheeler. Hiker. Camper. So we take her fishing for cats. She asks, "Does it taste like fish?" My sarcastic response: "As opposed to what, tasting like cat?"