Russian Tea is not from Russia. At least, not Russian Tea as we Southerners know it. The giftable dry mix that is the stuff of countless mid-century community cookbooks dates back to the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, when American urbanites sipped black tea with lemon and sugar in imitation of upper-class Russians. Within decades, so-called Russian Tea, which was by then often doctored with clove and cinnamon, washed down chicken salad and mixed nuts at meetings of bridge clubs and church groups across the South. In the transformative years following World War II, the basic formula of hot tea with citrus became a showcase for the convenience foods of the Space Age: Tang, powdered lemonade, instant tea. And there, at last, is the Russian Tea we all know and love—layered with love in a Mason jar, and tastefully tied with grosgrain or gingham.

About thirty years ago, Waffle House owners in the Atlanta area noticed their cooks dipping into extra toppings on orders of hashbrowns they made for themselves and friends. “They would dice up pieces of ham or add cheese,” says Jim Hosseini, executive vice president who was then managing a Waffle House in Georgia.

Dine at Per Se, one of the best-known restaurants in New York City, and you could taste a splash of the Old Dominion on your plate. That same Lindera Farms vinegar might grace dishes at any number of restaurants below the Mason-Dixon line: Minibar in Washington, D.C., Husk in Charleston, or Rhubarb in Asheville, to list just a few prominent examples.

This week, the Southern Foodways Alliance's Gravy comes from the neon-lit confines of Fred’s Lounge, in Mamou, Louisiana. On Saturday morning, when most of the country is sitting down to breakfast or sleeping off the night before, the bartenders at Fred’s are pouring beer and slicing boudin for a raucous crowd of dancers and musicians—locals and tourists alike. In fact, the sixty-eight-year-old bar is only open on Saturday mornings, an eccentric policy that has helped cement its status as one of the most legendary dives in Cajun country. The music starts at 9 a.m., but the doors are open before 8. Two-step your way through the front door with Eve Troeh’s report from the dance floor.