We are south of the line, but the food still isn't that good - Only a native of the south knows that Mason-Dixon means little

Maryland is not part of "The South." While it's true that Maryland is just south of the Mason-Dixon Line, it is in no way culturally representative of the south in which I grew up. The main difference between Maryland and "The South" is grits.

Any respectable southerner knows grits. Grits are a corn-derived food item, which is more finely ground than hominy (yet another fine food of the south). It is prepared in all its goodness by simmering dry grits, water and various seasonings together. Usually, a heaping wad of butter is added towards the end to add a nice sheen to the finished product.

If you're thinking it only takes five minutes to make a good bowl of grits, then you are mistaken. What you, my unfortunate friend, are referring to is instant grits. No genteel southerner in his or her right mind would ever consider quick grits as worthy of anything more than hog feed.

True grits take at least 20 minutes for the glutinous love to occur between the grits and water. Time, however, is a minor consideration when purchasing real grits because once they're on a plate next to a steaming biscuit, a couple of sausage links and two runny, sunny-side up eggs, you will be incapable of any thought beyond the southern goodness that awaits you.

But what does this have to do with Maryland? Absolutely nothing. This, my devoted readers, is the problem. Maryland is not a part of the south because you cannot find a bowl of grits at all diners. If this sad state were indeed in the south, then all diners would serve grits. Alas, my own experiences have led me to conclude that Maryland is more an impostor state than it is a border state.

It's true that people talk with a near-southern drawl in Maryland, but it's not a real southern accent; rather it's a weird drawl combined with some southernisms. Basically, "Bawlmer talk" isn't worth its weight in grits since it's so incoherent.

The food here, also, isn't really southern. Lake trout sandwiches are odoriferous reminders of Baltimore's sewage. And crabs? What the hell? People in the south don't really find themselves that attracted to picking little wads of meat from crustaceans. Who can blame them? So, again, Maryland poses itself as southern but can't manage a respectable southern accent or the proper food items.

The definitive proof of Maryland being an impostor state is my own sad visit to the Bel-Loch Diner. This diner is such a cultural institution that they sell their own shirts, mugs and other various paraphernalia. Yet my freshman year visit to this fine dining establishment reminded me that Maryland is not a part of "The South."

As a born-and-raised Georgia native, I have come to expect grits at every diner in the south. Alas, my late night visit to the Bel-Loch Diner left me craving more than grits; it had me craving the south.

That night was like any other during my freshman year. I was procrastinating - which would explain my pitiable GPA at the end of freshman year - and my friends and I opted to find late-night food. We hopped into a car and found our way over to the Bel-Loch Diner, which had been highly recommended to us by our Hopkins peers.

During the drive over, I eagerly anticipated the creamy taste of a warm bowl of grits. As we saw the Bel-Loch Diner sign in the distance, my grits-craving grew and I felt it would soon be satiated. But, alas, I was wrong.

The three of us were seated and then our Waffle House-esque waitress asked, "Hey, hon. Whatcha wan' eat?" I responded with the following excited utterance: "A bowl of grits, please!" All my hopes and desires were dashed upon the rocks when she replied, "Sorry, hon. We don' got no grits."

At first I was disappointed, but then started to get flustered. What diner in the south fails to carry grits? I responded to the waitress with, "But this is the south! What dining institution in the south doesn't have grits?" Alas, I only got the following lame response: "Hon, this may be the south, but we don' got no grits for ya. Sorry. How about some eggs?"

Disappointed, I opted for the pancakes. But I could have gone to McDonald's for HotCakes if I really wanted pancakes. What I wanted was a good, steamy bowl of grits. Is it not possible for a southerner to find grits south of the Mason-Dixon Line? That night was when I realized geography has nothing to do with being southern. In a way, you could argue that New York City is partially southern since they have more country radio stations than any other city, maybe with the exception of Nashville.

So in the end what I learned was that Maryland is not the Old Line State; it is, in reality, the Imposter State because much like a terrible Imposter Fragrance, Maryland tries to capture a cheap essence of the true south. Viva la deep south.