The 11 Best Southern Comfort Foods You Have To Try At Least Once

Hey ya'll. Pull up a chair and let's catch up for a minute. We were thinking about how living in a world filled with the most unique regional foods is such a blessing, but there's just something irreplaceable about the best comfort foods. You know how it is when you get a sudden hankering for something that actually tastes like home? That hit like a ton of bricks recently, and got us thinking we really oughta share our end-all, be-all list of Southern comfort foods with you. Today, we're finally getting around to it. This way, you don't have to go searching all over the South for a decent meal.

Now, we know everyone has their own personal favorites, but these dishes are the absolute essentials. We aren't talking about any of that hoity-toity, tiny-portioned mess you see in fancy magazines and Facespace (or whatever you young'uns call it). The real-deal, stick-to-your-ribs eats will make you slap your knees, send out a big whoop, and have your eyes rolling back real quick. In fact, we're certain that once we get through this list, you'll want to head straight for the kitchen.

These Southern musts are the best way to soothe your soul. Whether you're feeling fair to middlin' or are just in the mood for a treat, these classics always hit the spot. So, grab a cold glass of sweet tea, and let's gab about the good stuff.

If we're gonna gab about real barbecue, we have to set the record straight. When we say Carolina-style barbecue, that's a category with two distinct camps. We have nothing but love for the BBQ they're cooking up over in Lexington, but we're here to tattle on Eastern North Carolina today (in a good way). This barbecue is something special, and it doesn't mess around. That means it does not bother with any of that tomato, ketchup, or sweet nonsense.

You see, out East, barbecue means cooking the entire hog low and slow over wood. How long? Daddy (our back porch pitmaster) knew by heart, but the rule of thumb is just smoke that hog until it's so tender it barely holds together. Now, you can't rush it. And you certainly cannot cut corners. You're going to have to start early, tend the fire, and let time do its work. If you can't smell that smoke hanging in the air all morning, somebody has messed up.

Let's talk about the best Carolina barbecue sauces, because this is where folks get confused. Eastern NC sauce is straight vinegar with a near fistful of pepper and salt (we like things spicy down here). That's it. Like we said earlier, absolutely no red. No sugar. No fooling around! And the slaw? It's always white and creamy, just over on the side, minding its business until you need a break from that sassy vinegar bite.

If we're going to talk about a dish that's come a long way from its roots, we have to have a lil' gab sesh about shrimp and grits. It's funny how things work, isn't it? This little Southern beauty queen began as a humble meal that fishermen and their families called "breakfast shrimp." Although the dish has ties to Native American, African, and European culinary influences, the Gullah Geechee people along the coast laid claim to it. These folks were working culinary magic, taking whatever was in the pantry and whipping up heavenly eats.

Now, that is some next-level Deep South genius, using simple, local ingredients and turning them into something that'll seriously make palates sing. That's likely why shrimp 'n grits has become such a beloved mainstay across the South. When you place those plump, salty shrimp and bring them into a bowl of creamy, stone-ground grits (none of that instant mess is accepted south of the Mason-Dixon), that's one slap your knees good breakfast.

Whether you like yours with a bit of gravy, a smidgeon of sharp cheddar, or maybe a few crumbles of bacon on top, it's a dish that'll have you sliding back from the table with a sigh (bowl licked clean).

Now, we cannot have a serious chat about Southern food without hyping up fried okra. Some people may get all worked up about the slime factor with this veggie staple, but that's just because they haven't had it fixed right, ya hear? When you do it the Southern way (slice those beauties into wee rounds, toss them in a seasoned cornmeal breading, then fry them up until golden brown and poppin'), slimy isn't on the menu.

Fried okra is like the Southern equivalent of popcorn. Once you start munching on those deep-fried nuggies, you won't stop until the whole batch is done and dusted. So, why okra? Who would have thought, right? Okra is one of those rare and hardy plants that can handle our brutal Southern summer heat when everything else in the garden is looking a bit peaked, to put it kindly. 

As such, this little scrapper veggie has been a backyard treasure, leaned on as a mainstay in recipes as long as grammas have been stirring up sweet tea by the pitcherfuls (that's a while, ya'll). But how you make it is so important. There's just no modern fandangled air fryer that can even come close to competing with the crunch of a cast iron skillet. It's the perfect sidekick to any meal, and we might be so bold as to claim a plate of fried okra could settle just about any ruckus.

Let's dish about the absolute queen bee of summertime lunch in the South. We're talking about Grandma's mater sandwiches. First off, don't dare come at this beloved sammie with any fancy sprouts, avocado, or deli meats. And if you try to put lettuce on this Southern staple? Local folks might have a conniption. It's no exaggeration to say a real mater sammich is a near-sacred thing, and part of its beauty is that it only requires four ingredients: white bread, mayo, salt, and pepper.

The secret is the mayo. It has to be Duke's. Full stop. Duke's is the OG for a reason. Simply smear that tangy goodness on both slices of white bread (like, really, don't hold back). Then head down to the curb market and find the most ugly-perfect, homegrown, sun-ripened tomato they've got. Slice it thick, then smack it right on that sammie. Wait a beat, only until that bread starts to get just this side of soggy from the juices. All that's left is a little salt and pepper, and baby, you're in business.

This is a must-try because it's basically Southern July in a single sammie. It's the meal you eat leaning over the plate so the juice won't stain your clothes (it will dribble down your chin though, right beneath those lips curled into a big, satisfied grin).

If you want to find the king of Southern comfort, look no further than old-school sausage gravy and biscuits. Now, while there are delicious biscuit toppings beyond gravy, the star of this show is the sausage gravy. The thick, creamy Southern mainstay is made by browning pork sausage in a skillet, then using those savory drippings to whisk up a roux with flour, whole milk, and plenty of black pepper (that's where those signature speckles come into play).

We get that city folks might prefer a fancy brunch to these biscuits, but many locals swear that no fussy half-breakfast half-lunch can compare to this Southern mastery. Simply put, the proof is in the puddin', which in this case is made by browning sausage until it's gussied up just right (that's as fancy as we get in the South). Once the mixture is thick, grab a biscuit and tear it open. Pour the gravy over top until it's overflowing. We promise you, this dazzling duo makes a dish so good it's sure to raise a ruckus (in the best way).

And if someone dares try to tell you it's too heavy or rich, just tell 'em to skedaddle, grab a cold Cheerwine from the cooler, and keep on trucking. Once you finish, you'll be ready for a nap, because this is some of the heartiest comfort food around.

If you aim to taste a real legend, you need to bite into a classic Southern country ham biscuit. Now, keep reading before you go out looking for that deli meat from the store (that's just wet-cured city ham). Real country ham has been part of Southern kitchens since long before refrigerators were a daily reality, and knowing how to preserve meat was a priceless thing. This ham is dry-cured with salt and sugar, then aged for months (or even years) until it's deep red, firm, and as salty as us Southerners.

All that magic happens long before it hits your shopping cart and kitchen counter, and we thank the Southern deity (expert country ham makers) for doing the real work. Once it is in your kitchen, to really do it up right, you have to fry those marbled slices in a cast iron skillet. And don't be gentle, fry them up good, just until the fat renders out and the edges curl up toward the clouds.

A ton of toppings is not necessary with this dish. In fact, that kind of tomfoolery is not even tolerated. All it takes is a fluffy buttermilk biscuit and that heavenly ham inside. Wash it all down with a strong cup of coffee, and there you have it.

A dark leafy veggie, collard greens are integral to Black food tradition and have been a core ingredient in Southern recipes for centuries. The magic stems from African culinary traditions that have evolved from bare necessity to modern delicacy. The real secret to whipping up a perfect pot of greens is starting with fresh leaves (none of that canned stuff). Wash those collards until they're clean as a whistle, then head over to your pot. 

True Southern greens are simmered low and slow with a hefty piece of smoked meat to fancy up the flavor. While some people might use stock, most old-school Southerners reach for a salty ham hock, smoked turkey necks, or even pork jowl and do it up right from scratch. As these delicacies cook down, the greens release their nutrients and bitterness into the broth, creating an amber-hued "pot liquor" that's chock-full of vitamins and darn good taste. This liquid is so precious that Southerners have been known to have a conniption if you even think of dumping it down the drain (don't you dare).

When the greens are finally tender, that potlikker becomes part of the dish itself. Grab a piece of cornbread and mash it down into those juices, right where the heart of the greens lives. And if someone tries to slide back from the table before finishing their bowl? Tell them they left the best part sitting at the bottom.

If you're planning on hosting a proper Friday night fish fry, make sure to have plenty of Southern fried catfish for the crowd. Not just any old meal, this quintessential Southern tradition takes fresh catfish fillets and transforms them into crispy, golden masterpieces. There's nothing that satisfies a Southern comfort food hankering quite like that first intoxicating bite of cornmeal crust crackling open to reveal flaky white fish.

To get it done right, the secret is the cornmeal. First, soak the fillets in a bath of buttermilk to keep them moist and remove any too-fishy flavor. Then, spice up your cornmeal mixture (we're talking a heavy hand of Old Bay, smoky paprika, garlic powder, and a dash of cayenne). Toss those fillets until they are covered, and the coating is stuck on tight.

When you're ready to cook, head to the deep fryer or a heavy cast iron skillet filled with hot oil. Drop them in and let them sizzle until they are a beautiful golden brown. Once they're done, serve them up with plenty of hushpuppies and a cold Coke or sweet tea. If anyone tries to tell you baked fish is just as good, just say "bless your heart," and get right back to your fried feast.

If you want to discover one of the real treats of the South, we have to sit a spell and get into the nitty-gritty of fried green tomatoes. This isn't your auntie's dusty old side dish. These deep-fried maters are a Southern icon that are prepped to perfection. Now, some people may only know the dish because of "Fried Green Tomatoes," the 1991 movie with Kathy Bates and Jessica Tandy. While the film did indeed cause some commotion and place the snack in the national spotlight, Southerners will have you know that fried green tomato recipes have been around for decades.

What are they exactly? Welcome to church, fam. You take firm, unripe green tomatoes (picked before they turn red and soft) and slice them thick. Dip those slices in tangy buttermilk (and some optional egg) and dredge them in a seasoned cornmeal and flour mixture. Fry them up in a cast iron skillet until they're crackling out loud and oh-so-crispy. 

While some people might try to use panko, don't let that confuse you. Just know that the true comfort food recipe sticks to a classic cornmeal crunch. Served while still piping hot and juicy, fried green tomatoes take an unripe fruit, a hot skillet, and myriad spices to make mater magic.

If you've ever plunked yourself down at a legendary Southern fish camp or BBQ joint worth its salt, you already know there'll be a fresh, piping hot basket of hushpuppies on the table. If not, you might as well make an exit now because that is no proper establishment. Maybe it sounds dramatic, but these little golden-brown nuggets are the soulmate to fried catfish (think of it like the fish-camp equivalent of a burger and fries).

For those who aren't in the know (how have you survived thus far?), a hushpuppy is a savory, deep-fried ball made from a thick cornmeal batter, often dressed up with spices to take things up a notch. Legend has it these treats got their name when folks would toss bits of fried dough to their hounds to "hush the puppies" and stop them from causing chaos during an outdoor fry. A snap to make, you simply drop the batter into hot grease until it floats, turning a perfect crispy brown in the fryer.

These puppies aren't fancy, and they certainly aren't negotiable. If a fish camp gets its hush puppies right, you can pretty much bet your bottom dollar that everything else coming out of that kitchen is gonna be on point.

This comfort food entry is widely considered the cornerstone of the Southern table. We're talking about skillet cornbread. Let us be clear, this is not the cake-like silliness those supermarkets sell in boxes. No sir. Real, authentic Southern cornbread is a savory masterpiece that's made popping and sizzling in a molten-hot cast iron skillet. 

Ask any master chef in the South (or Southern mama), and they'll likely school you on how the secret to this dish is dumping a good bit of bacon grease into that skillet before you pour the batter, which paves the way for a crust so crispy it'll make you weak in the knees. But here is where the real magic happens: To eat it like a true local, you don't piddle around with fancy plates. While it's still warm, you crumble a big hunk of that cornbread right into a tall glass of buttermilk. Mash it down with a spoon and eat that heavenly, mushy mess right out of the glass. Trust us.

And if anyone ever tries to serve you sweet yellow muffins instead? Take a deep breath, bless their misguided heart under that breath, and kindly show them where the nearest exit (or your cast iron skillet) is located.