Snow in Georgia: Behold the devil's dandruff!

What do we do when that New Hampshire cocaine comes falling from the sky? None of y'all's business.

The warnings started up right after New Year’s Day, turning the already-hysterical cesspool of Twitter into a medieval village when a dragon approaches. Snow’s coming to the South! Cold’s on the way! It’s going to drop to minus-11, and the skies will dump 17 inches of snow on SEC country!¹

There is nothing that puts fear into the hearts of Georgians quite like an impending snowstorm. You can count on one hand the number of snow days we’ve had here in the last decade, and each one paralyzes the state. We don’t have any snow-fighting infrastructure here; we keep the salt on our food. We have zero understanding of how to drive on snow; “gun it and see what happens” is a common strategy. We have a total inability to budget our food intake; we clean all the milk and eggs off all the shelves even though the snow tends to melt into the ground in about the time it takes to watch a Lord of the Rings movie.

It happened again Friday morning; snow rolled into town, though not 17 inches’ worth. We all knew it was coming, we all prepared accordingly. Oh sure, there were a few fender-benders here and there; never underestimate a Georgian’s ability to overestimate his driving skill. But for the most part, the city hunkered down and waited for the snow to melt … which it started doing within a few hours of hitting the ground. (Me, I made chili. Recipe below.)

The Great Snow Dusting of 2025 was more a pleasant excuse to isolate yourself than a catastrophic debacle. Which made it starkly different from 2014 … a.k.a. Snowmageddon.

---

---

(Side note: Look, y’all up north can look down your noses all you want at us. But you have to admit we have much better storm names. New York and Boston get hit with “nor’easters” or, maybe, “Winter Storm Becky.” Down here, we get SNOWMAGEDDON. Advantage: us.)

Snowmageddon quite simply addled Georgia’s brains. A combination of seesawing temperatures and off-and-on precipitation meant that snow turned to freezing rain, which then turned into thick, slick ice. Add to that the fact that local officials and workplaces waited way too long to cancel schools and send people home from work — this was 2014, remember, people still went into work — and wham, citywide catastrophe.

Yes, it was only two inches of snow … but two inches of snow that turned into two inches of ice. With no tire chains anywhere within 500 miles of the city, everyone was immobilized. The icy conditions led to full-on gridlock on highways and surface streets all over the city; more than one million commuters jammed onto highways all at once, and thousands were stranded there. Kids were stuck in school buses or left overnight at schools. The precise meteorological term was “a goddamn mess.”

Check out this photo from the day as the sun went down, this is some Walking Dead-type stuff:

My memories of that day: wheeling up to my kids’ schools, throwing open the door and going full “Come with me if you want to live!”; leaving dinner’s pork chops in the slow cooker, forgotten, for about 14 hours, until they were meaty goo; walking through icy, spooky streets late at night with the only sound the crunch of ice under my boots. We don’t get exotic winter weather much here in Georgia, but when we do, we do it up right.

After Snowmageddon, Saturday Night Live took dead aim at Georgia, and hit the mark square, with “Buford Callaway” decrying the two inches of devil’s dandruff, the wispy drifts of New Hampshire cocaine, the fearsome flurries of New England clam powder:

Sadly, it doesn’t appear the skit is online anywhere legit; maybe this Facebook post will work for you. Thank you for your noble service, Buford Callaway.

This week’s storm won’t even get a cool name; it’s just a light dusting, relatively speaking, here and then gone soon enough. But at least I ate well.

What’s your favorite snow memory? Bonus points if you grew up in the South and got out of school when the weather was a little chilly.

---

Snowbound Red Chicken Chili

As promised above, my go-to chili, whipped up as I was writing this newsletter.

I’m pretty sure this recipe came from “Kissing Suzy Kolber,” a sports-and-culture blog back when blogs were a thing. KSK, like most blogs from that late 2000s-early 2010s era, has gone the way of Tim Tebow’s football career. But I salvaged this recipe, tweaked it a bit here and there, and now I present it to you. Outside of my career and some lifelong friends, it’s the best thing I got out of the blog era. Takes about 15 minutes to prep and 3-4 hours to cook. Worth every minute.

-3 lbs. boneless, skinless chicken thighs
-1 large white onion, diced
-2 red bell peppers, diced
-3 poblano peppers, diced
-1 can chipotle peppers in adobe sauce
-1 can tomato paste
-1-2 tsp chili powder
-1-2 tsp cumin
-1-2 tsp smoked paprika
-Beer, preferably IPA
-Salt
-2 cans red kidney beans

Steps along the road to chili glory:

• Brown the chicken thighs in a large, heavy pot over high heat. Set them aside.

• Lower the heat and throw the onions in the pot for a few minutes, ‘til they start to turn translucent and smell really good. Stir them to keep from sticking.

• Add the peppers, tomato paste, adobo sauce and spices. Regulate the spice level by including or removing the seeds from the chipotle peppers. Cook it all until the tomato paste starts to darken.

• Dump a can of beer in the pot, warm it up and scrape the bottom of the pot.

• Return the chicken to the mixture, and add enough beer to cover the chicken.

• Bring the mixture to a boil, then turn it down to a low simmer. Cover the pot and let the magic happen for 90 minutes.

• Uncover and let the mixture simmer for another hour or two, breaking up the chicken, which will be nice and soft by now. Toss in some more beer if it’s starting to dry out too much.

• After the mixture starts to feel like, you know, chili, throw the beans in there for 15 minutes or so to get them warmed up.

• Serve with whatever you like — shredded cheese, sour cream, chopped cilantro, oyster crackers, whatever. Me, I gobble this up with scoop tortilla chips. And make sure you wash it down with plenty of beer, too.

I’m no food photographer, but trust me, it tastes so damn good. Especially on a snowy night.

---

Song of the Week: “All Again,” Charles Wesley Godwin

You might have already heard of Charles Wesley Godwin, but if you haven’t, you’re in for a treat. A singer-songwriter out of West Virginia, Godwin is one of a new generation of country artists who’ve veered away from the girl-and-a-beer-and-a-truck bro-country stereotype into more raw, authentic territory.

I’m falling more and more, and hell, I don’t mind being poor
When I’m with you, I pity all the kings in the world

This is good winter-night-and-bourbon music. Enjoy it ‘til the summer comes back around.

Check out “All Again” and all our other selections over at the official Flashlight & A Biscuit Spotify playlist:

---

That’ll do it for this week, friends. Stay warm if you’re in the cold, stay safe if you’re in Los Angeles, and we’ll see you back here real soon.

—Jay
Land Cat, Georgia

---

This is issue #150 of Flashlight & A Biscuit. Check out all the past issues right here. Feel free to email me with your thoughts, tips and advice. If you’re new around here, jump right to our most-read stories, or check out some of our recent hits:

• Our first documentary, on the famous Rama Jama’s diner in Tuscaloosa, Alabama:

• Jimmy Carter, a Southern man in full

• Sometimes, just be glad you’re alive

• It’s time to make the greatest holiday playlist ever … and the worst.

• Let’s power-rank the State Fair of Texas foods

• What does “Flashlight & A Biscuit” mean, anyway?

Keep in touch with me via email right here. And load up a to-go box before you leave:

• The F&AB Spotify playlist

• The F&AB bookstore

• The F&AB Books, Beer & Barbecue map

If you dig this newsletter, share it with your friends. Invite others to the party, everyone’s welcome.

1. I’m serious. These were actual predictions.