Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #34795 in Books
• Published on: 2005-03-16
• Released on: 2005-03-16
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Hardcover
• 272 pages

Features

• ISBN13: 9781401359348
• Condition: NEW
• Notes: Brand New from Publisher. No Remainder Mark.
• Click here to view our Condition Guide and Shipping Prices

From Publishers Weekly
Starred Review. Metcalfe, a lifelong Southerner who's been hiding out in the social circles of Greenville, Miss., exposes the culinary and cultural last rites of the deep South in a fashion that is as sidesplitting as it is politically incorrect, as sincere as it is backstabbingly brutal. She is capably aided by Hays, a "recovering gossip columnist" from Washington, D.C. Residents of the Mississippi Delta, where "polishing silver is the southern lady's version of grief therapy," take their comfort food semiseriously, be it traditional Pickled Shrimp, Liketa Died Potatoes (which incorporate both cheddar cheese and canned cheddar cheese soup) or cream cheese–laden Pecan Tassies. Nobody would be caught dead without Tomato Aspic at the funeral, and St. James' Cranberry Congealed Salad topped with mayonnaise is the dessert of choice. An entire chapter is devoted to stuffed eggs, and another is dedicated to dishes that use canned soup as their base ("Nothing whispers sympathy quite like a frozen-pea casserole with canned bean sprouts and mushroom soup"). A lengthy discourse on "The Methodist Ladies vs. the Episcopal Ladies" is laugh-out-loud funny in its contrast of customs and cuisines and its consideration of the consolation of a "nice, stiff cocktail." And many Greenville residents, alive and deceased, drop by for a howdy, including poor Maribell Wilson, who made the mistake of driving her daddy's ashes home with the windows down. B&w illus.
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

From The Washington Post
If you want a good laugh in this uptight, power-obsessed city, pick up a copy of Being Dead Is No Excuse. And if you are a Southerner, you will laugh until the tears come.

Granted, death is no laughing matter, but Southern funerals definitely can be, as Gayden Metcalfe and Charlotte Hays show. The irreverent pair hail from the Mississippi Delta, and even though I grew up in Tennessee I recognize every character in the book. (I have no way of knowing if the people mentioned are real or invented. I have never met Metcalfe, who still lives in Mississippi, but Hays is a Washington journalist whom I do know.) The subtitle -- "The Official Southern Ladies Guide to Hosting the Perfect Funeral" -- pretty well sums it up, yet there is no way to suggest the fun of this book without quoting just about every tongue-in-cheek sentence.

As an added bonus, each chapter concludes with wonderful, easy-to-follow Southern recipes, so you learn not only how to give a flawless funeral, but also how to prepare the foods that are necessary to this quintessential Southern experience.

"After the solemnity of the church service and finality of the grave, the people of the Mississippi Delta are just dying to get to the house of the bereaved for the reception. . . . Friends and family begin arriving with covered dishes, finger foods, and sweets as soon as the word is out that somebody has died."

Certain foods are essential for burying a self-respecting Deltan. "Chief among these is tomato aspic with homemade mayonnaise -- without which you practically can't get a death certificate." Others in the Top 10 list of funeral foods are fried chicken, stuffed eggs, Virginia's Butter Beans, Can't-Die-Without-It Caramel Cake, homemade rolls, banana nut bread, Aunt Hebe's Coconut Cake, Methodist Party Potatoes and tenderloin.

Where you are buried is also very important. "The old cemetery is one of the best addresses in Greenville. . . . Being buried anywhere else is a fate worse than death." Cremation is still a "new and dicey" proposition in the Delta. "The last time somebody was cremated, his ashes were sprinkled from a crop duster. We all ran for cover. We liked him fine, but we didn't want him all over our good clothes."

Appearance is important, too. Even in death, Southern women always want to look their best, and it was said that Bubba Boone, the local undertaker, could do a better job than any plastic surgeon.

The ladies' advice for those who want a tasteful send-off, with "great vestments" but no "tacky hymns" or "smells and bells," is to join St. James' Episcopal Church. "Southern Episcopalians wear their devoutness lightly. That's one reason they excel at funerals. . . . They are sensitive enough to know that simply being dead doesn't mean you no longer care about social status."

Nobody wants an ill-attended funeral, and St. James' turns out in full force for one of its own. However, for a really big funeral, membership in both St. James' and Alcoholics Anonymous is the ticket. "Episcopalians who have belonged to AA attract a standing-room-only crowd, without increasing the liquor bill for the reception."

There's a Protestant church caste system in almost every Southern town, and in Greenville, the authors say, the Episcopalians and Presbyterians generally thought themselves a cut above the Methodists, described by one lady as "frustrated Baptists who would like to be Episcopalians." "They'd like to whoop and holler," the authors comment, "but they are not deaf to the clarion call of social mobility." (Full disclosure: I was raised a Methodist, and in my hometown, evangelicals, now so courted in Washington, were beyond the pale.)

Metcalfe and Hays report that while there is no theological animosity between Episcopalians and Methodists, the culinary rivalry is cutthroat: "Episcopalians are snooty because they spurn cake mixes and canned goods, without which there would be no such thing as Methodist cuisine." But everybody has to look down on somebody, they observe, so for Methodists, there are the Baptists, who put "little bitty marshmallows" on their congealed salads.

The writers tackle all the key issues. If you die a Methodist, they ask, can the mourners enjoy the full range of consolations? Maybe not. "If you feel your family will be so devastated by your departure that they'll require the solace of strong drink," they advise, "join St. James'. Immediately."

The ladies insist that people do not "pass away." They die. One still writes condolence letters by hand. Paper napkins at the reception are verboten. As for music, "It is never a good idea to choose a hymn with a lot of high notes. . . . You can't go wrong with the old standards, like 'Oh, God, Our Help in Ages Past.' This will work well for almost anybody but the most out-and-out atheist." For obvious reasons, "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" is a no-no. They warn against "On Eagle's Wings," whose popularity " has spread like kudzu." As for flowers: positively no carnations or gladioli.

In a chapter titled, "I Was So Embarrassed I Liketa Died," the authors remind us that, unlike the dead person, you will awaken and rise in the morning. Hence one of their most valuable bits of advice: You can have fun at a funeral, and especially at the reception, but "you don't want to have been so bad you wish you could switch places with the deceased."

Reviewed by Selwa Roosevelt
Copyright 2005, The Washington Post Co. All Rights Reserved.

From Booklist
There are too few words and phrases to adequately describe this unique devil-take-the-hindmost approach to cooking and end-of-life ceremonies. Tongue in cheek? Maybe. Laugh-out-loud narrative? Definitely. Plus, an extraordinary combination of ingredients (it is a cookbook, after all). We learn that a "glowing obituary is practically a birthright in the Delta"; that both artificial flowers and carnations at a funeral are definitely passe; and that two of the top-10 "hits" for a funeral ceremony are "Abide with Me" and "Amazing Grace." The lists--and detailed social customs--go on and on and on, including guidance on well-stocked pantry foodstuffs and eternal cocktails. One hundred or so (who's counting?) recipes ensure that no cuisine is omitted; a pineapple casserole nestles beside tomato aspic with mayonnaise. Pimiento cheese enhances the traditional crustless finger sandwiches and picked shrimp. In the end, the authors guarantee no one will ever be out of place at a south-of-the-Mason-Dixon-Line funeral celebration. Barbara Jacobs
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

Customer Reviews

THAT'S WHAT I LIKE ABOUT THE SOUTH !

Forget Scarlet, Zelda, and Tallulah, they pale beside the ladies of the Mississippi Delta who are dedicated, determined, and (pun intended) dead set on seeing the dearly departed off in style.

"Being Dead Is No Excuse" is laugh out loud funny, true, and chock full of recipes for must-be-served dishes at after funeral receptions. Tomato aspic with homemade mayonnaise tops the list that includes Aunt Hebe's Coconut Cake and Virginia's Butterbeans. Those who doubt the import of a table groaning under countless casseroles will learn that "Nobody eats better than the bereaved Southerner. We celebrate weddings, christenings, birthdays, and just about every milestone in life with food. But every southerner knows that death cooking is our very best."

Now, it's not only the food, but it's also the presentation. For Southern ladies, polishing silver is a form of grief therapy thus the serving pieces will be immaculate. In addition, linens are required. "We do not want Mildred to go under with paper napkins."

Metcalfe forthrightly addresses the vanity often ascribed to Southern women by describing an older lady who passed away and wanted to be "laid out" as she looked during the happiest days of her life - when she was a waitress. Thanks to the craftsmanship of the local undertaker she appeared in her coffin in waitress uniform with ruby red lips and the same color hair.

Then there is Lavinia, the former wife of a philanderer. Not wishing to be outdone at his services, she made a Botox appointment, bought designer duds, and hired a King Air private jet which she directed to buzz the church. There wasn't anyone with ears who didn't know "someone" had arrived. Then, Lavinia strode smartly down the aisle stage-whispering, "I don't want anybody to know I'm here.....I just came for the children."

Greenville, Mississippi native Metcalfe hasn't missed a beat in relating the rollicking rites and rituals necessary for the Southerner's final goodbye, including the frequency of their visits to the local cemetery. "We won't forget you just because you've up and died," she writes. "We may even like you better and visit you more often."

Few will forget "Being Dead Is No Excuse."

- Gail Cooke

I laughed 'til I thought I'd die.
"As I Lay Dying" with recipes and a lot more humor. This exploration of Southern funeral customs is not only funny, but it also confirms that the South is still different from the rest of the country and celebrates those differences. A southern funeral must follow certain forms and the mourners have to tell stories, have a laugh and eat well. You can read it for the description of the folkways and keep it on your shelf for the recipes.

A Yankee View
"Being Dead is No Excuse" by Gayden Metcalfe and Charlotte Hays is very funny, charming, and perhaps more accurate than some might like to admit.I admit it, I am a "Yankee," (Though to a true Northerner, a Yankee is from New England, and one who eats apple pie with sharp Cheddar cheese for breakfast!), but I am highly familiar with funerals and preparations for "a good send-off." Metcalfe and Hays have written a funny, touching book that has aspects (and aspics!) that are applicable anywhere in the United States.However, this otherwise excellent book has been marred by sloppy, sloppy editing, as is too common any more. One thing, the hymn is "Our God, Our Help in Ages Past," not "Oh God....." And some of the recipes, which are mostly Southern classics (and rightly so!) lack crucial information as to pan sizes, or yields. If you're not going to cook from this book, no problem, but many of the recipes are so appealing, that it is really unfortunate that they were not edited better.