For the four decades of my life that were spent in Savannah, the end of winter was marked by an unbridled celebration of St. Patrick's Day. In the Georgia Lowcountry, winter was effectively over well before then and the equinox was still a few days away, but that was when Savannah embraced the season with green dye dumped into its namesake river, vats of beer, and cauldrons of grits.
And corned beef. Everywhere.
Five years removed from that celebration, Read More