If you know what potliquor is, then you have probably just identified yourself as either being from the country, or having some agrarian connections.
Potliquor is one of the most delectable forms of nectar known to man. Now, for all who are wondering, it has nothing to do with marijuana or alcoholic beverages. Potliquor is the country term that describes the juices that come from cooking country vegetables. It is a mixture of water, natural juices that cook out of the veggies and probably a little grease from some sidemeat or hamhock that is used for seasoning.
I should probably point out at this juncture that you will not get potliquor from pseudo-veggies that are often found in the frozen-food aisle at the grocery store. Broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, English peas, etc. may have some nutritional value, but they are severely deficient when it comes to producing potliquor.
The best potliquor comes from things like field peas, butterbeans and especially greens. Take some collard, mustard or turnip greens, cook them down slow and tender with some bacon or ham and you have something that would make a bulldog slap his mama (another country expression). You then take your biscuit or cornbread and dip it into the potliquor (the liquor that is in the pot–you are probably getting the picture by now) and enjoy. Kings should be able to eat so good.
Now that I have described what potliquor is, let me tell you a funny story about it. (True story) A little community not far from my corner of southwest Georgia had a little lane. On this lane was a big turpentine camp and a little church. The turpentine camp would feed the workers lunch every day. Greens were a very cost-effective, popular meal with the workers. After lunch, the cooks would throw the left-over potliquor out the kitchen window into a ditch. Over a period of time, the ditch actually turned green from all of the potliquor that it absorbed. This little lane got to be known as “Potliquor Lane”.
Years passed by and the turpentine camp closed, but the church didn’t. The time came when they called a young pastor from the city. This young man had great fervor for God, but not much knowledge of country ways.
He immediately determined that no house of God should be located on a road that was named after pot and liquor. The church should be a place of righteousness, not vice, was his opinion. So he began to get up a petition to have the name of the road changed.
Now you have to understand how country folks hang on to their traditions. To try to change the name of an old road steeped in such precious memories of delightful nectar was about two notches shy of blasphemy of the Holy Ghost.
Unfortunately, the pastor did not get to stay long. He was told that back in the big city there were new streets opening up every day that he could help name and perhaps he should go do that.
That little church is still located on Potliquor Lane.