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Play It Pretty for Atlanta

16 Apr

This weekend, I did something that I never envisioned doing. I went to market, the industry name for a women’s clothing convention. My fiance, owner of Beauty Boutique, needed to attend because that’s what boutique owners do. I needed to go because, well, I just wanted to. Life is full of experiences, and this would probably be an interesting one.

Shockingly, we got a late start, but, once we hit the road, it was smooth sailing. Actually, there was one rough patch. When we crossed Monteagle Mountain, I serenaded her with the theme from Smokey and the Bandit. She laughed hysterically and wrote about it on Facebook. Did I mention that I hate Facebook?

My sentiments exactly.

My sentiments exactly.

We arrived in Atlanta, and, after some fancy driving on my part, we made it to the hotel. She immediately wanted to head to market to check in and browse before they closed for the day. I had no idea what to expect, but I felt like that I had walked into the cantina on Tatooine at closing time.

The girls all get prettier at closing time.

The girls all get prettier at closing time.

There was some strange-looking creatures hanging around, and they all looked worn out. That’s not totally correct because there were some fair looking creatures there, too. However, they looked just as tired.

We went back to the hotel and started wondering about dinner. We didn’t want to venture too far out, so I looked up the hotel restaurants. That’s when my eyes bugged out. The lower level of our hotel housed Trader Vic’s. I only knew two things about Trader Vic’s. It is a hangout for werewolves who like pina coladas, and I had to go there.

I didn’t see any werewolves. However, I felt like I had walked into a 1950s postcard from Hawaii. I don’t even have the words to explain this surreal experience. Imagine getting swallowed up in a song by The Ventures and being served an umbrella drink. That’s Trader Vic’s.

How can you go wrong with a menu with this cover?

How can you go wrong with a menu with this cover?

The next day, we got up bright and early for market, and it was a completely different experience. The cantina crowd was ready to go and buyers from stores throughout the nation were cramming the aisles between the booths. They had everything that a woman could possibly wear, and there was a thousand varieties of each item. Heck, there were ten stories filled with stuff. As a crowd watcher instead of a buyer, I started to figure out the difference between the serious buyers and the sightseers. I could also pick out the guys who were doing the exact same thing that I was.

However, that was just the appetizer for what I really wanted to see, the runway fashion show. I couldn’t wait to see a bunch of models strut their stuff on the catwalk. I wasn’t disappointed because they looked like I imagined. But, there was a problem. There was a woman in front of me wearing cat ears, and she was blocking my view. I promise that there is nothing worse than sitting behind a woman wearing cat ears at a fashion show.

After the show, we needed to eat. There wasn’t much around, so we ended up at The Hard Rock Cafe. The cheeseburger and 80s videos were great, but there was another form of entertainment. Atlanta’s version of The Amazing Race was going on. Some teams were taking it serious, and other teams were coming into the bar to get drunk. After this much activity, I needed a nap.

I slept most of the afternoon and woke up hungry. I didn’t want Trader Vic’s or a cheeseburger.  I wanted something good. Not knowing anything about Atlanta dining, we searched for Atlanta’s best restaurants and found Rathbun’s. I have written about Nashville’s booming food scene and know that we have some great restaurants. Rathbun’s would fit right in. The duck breast was awesome but not as good as the appetizer. If you ever go to Rathbun’s, then you have to get the Pan Fried Kefalotiri Cheese. It’s the most awesome thing ever.

Yesterday, we packed up to head home but not before going to Lenox Square Mall. I have heard of people going to Atlanta just to shop, and now I know why. It’s a cool mall. Wait, I went to Atlanta just to shop didn’t I? Weird. Anyway, we drove back to Tennessee and crossed Monteagle Mountain once again. This time I just hummed.

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Expanding the Palate

10 Apr

In my last post, I mentioned an episode at F. Scott’s, a very nice restaurant in Nashville. This post goes into a little more detail.

For a couple of years, I dated Anna, a professional woman who considered herself an expert of fine cuisine. Now that I think about it, she considered herself a wine expert, as well. She always wanted us to dine at the best restaurants and always said that I should expand my palate. I am always up for a good meal, and my palate was already well expanded. I’ll eat anything that doesn’t involve mushrooms.

Anyway, she was no more of a food and wine expert than I was. In fact, I would classify her as a food snob, and there was nothing better than to watch her stumble over her perceived expertise. However, it was embarrassing at times. She once made the wine guy bring out ten tastings before she found one that paired well with her meal.

Another time, we were at a new restaurant, and Anna kept going on and on about the Charleston influence in dishes. She asked to meet the chef and asked him where he worked in Charleston. He said that he had never been to Charleston. He earned his chef’s hat in Los Angeles.

Speaking of Los Angeles, Anna used to live there and always talked about the wine collection that she left behind. One night, we went to a wine tasting and were seated with some other folks. I learned that the man next to me once owned one of Nashville’s most famous restaurants. During our conversation, he asked what I thought about the wines. I was honest when I said that I didn’t like wine and they all tasted the same to me.

Anna quickly stepped in and said that I was new to wine and had not developed the proper appreciation. Then, he asked her about her favorite. She started a monologue about how she used to live in L.A. and had a wine collection. He interrupted her and said, “I don’t give a damn where you lived. I only want to know which wine you like the best.” Apparently, he liked my answer better.

I write all of that to set up what happened at F. Scott’s.F Scott's

Anna had been wanting to go forever, and we finally got the opportunity. We were seated and the waiter arrived to take care of us. In the process, he described the evening’s special appetizer – sweetbread covered with honey.

Anna jumped right in and said we would order that. It suited me. I had no problem trying it and was sure that she knew what she was ordering. After all, she was a food expert. He brought a sweetbread for each of us, and we dug in. I thought it was good. Sure, it was a little chewy, but that was fine. The look on Anna’s face told me that she didn’t think it was so fine.

“Are you ok?”

“This isn’t what I thought it would be.”

“You mean that you don’t know what it is?”

“No, do you?”

“It’s pancreas or something. I figured you have had it before since you have dined all over the world.”

That’s when the hives began to appear. They started at her neck and spread from there. It was all I could do not to laugh.

“Mine’s good. Do you not like it?”

“I can’t eat this.”

With that, Anna spit out the pancreas into her napkin. That was pretty much the end of her meal. However, I was determined. I ate mine and the rest of hers. Then, I went on to the enjoy the rest of my meal.

It took forever for the hives to go away. On the way home, Anna kept talking about how I knew something about food that she didn’t. She really couldn’t believe it.

“How did you know what that was?”

“I heard Hannibal Lecter talk about eating sweetbreads in one of his movies.”Hannibal Lecter

Anna’s hives came back.

“Why didn’t you tell me what it was?”

“You’ve dined all over the world. I thought you knew. Besides, you need to expand your palate.”

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Listeria – Nashville Eats

9 Apr

The latest issue of Nashville Lifestyles lists the 50 best restaurants in Nashville, and it is an impressive grouping. In the past couple of years, the city’s food scene has exploded.

This is the city - the Nashville city.

This is the city – the Nashville city.

People may think that this area is all about Cracker Barrel and collard greens, but some of the nation’s top chefs work their craft around here. I don’t consider myself a foodie, but I like food. That means that I have been to several on the list.

The magazine ranks the Top 10 and offers the next 40 in alphabetical order. For the purposes of this post, I will write a few sentences about my experiences at the Top 10 and give a three word synopsis for the rest.

2. The Catbird Seat – I wrote and entire post about my experience at The Catbird Seat, so I will just go ahead and link it. This is a place that everyone should experience at least once.

4. F. Scott’s Restaurant and Jazz Bar – An ex-girlfriend and I had an interesting experience at F. Scott’s. There was an appetizer that I liked, but she didn’t. It’s a story that needs a post all its own. I promise that it will be coming next.

5. City House – This is a great restaurant with an industrial atmosphere. I have been once and want to go back as soon as I can.

6. Capitol Grille – Located in the historic Hermitage Hotel, this restaurant is a classic dining experience. The food is great, and you are surrounded by history. When the Tennessee legislature approved the 19th Amendment, women got the right to vote. This is where the politicians met to work out that decision.

7. Margot Cafe & Bar – Great food. However, the best part is dessert that is served on dishes that belonged to the owner’s grandmother.

10. Kayne Prime – I am a fan of the M Street experience. Whiskey Kitchen is great. Virago is great. I am even a member of Citizen, the private club in the area. However, Kayne Prime is not my favorite steak place.

And now, the rest of the restaurants.

Eastland Cafe – my favorite one.

Firefly Grille – small but great.

Germantown Cafe – I’ve had better.

Loveless Cafe – overrated country food.

The Mad Platter – books for decor.

Merchants – duck fried tots.

Midtown Cafe – small but good.

The Palm – the steak place.

Park Cafe – just like Eastland.

Prime 108 – company ruined it.

Red Pony – cool little place.

Sunset Grill – Henley’s song better.

Tin Angel – fantastic Angel Wings.

Virago – best sushi place.

Watermark – not so good.

If you are ever in Nashville, then you should check out a few of these places. There are other great restaurants not on the list, so you can’t go wrong. Just stay away from the chains. Like all cities, Nashville has some great locally owned restaurants. As I said, I am not a foodie, but one of my co-workers is. For great reading about food, click on her blog at Nashville Fork. Be warned, it will make you hungry.

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A Story About Steak and Vienna Sausages

31 Mar

Tonight, we celebrated my dad’s birthday, and we did it a little differently this time. The usual birthday celebrations of my family involve going to Gondola, a local Italian restaurant, and having homemade hot fudge cake. That’s a good way to celebrate, but it gets a little old at times. Maybe my dad felt the same way because he requested a change.

This time, we went to the Hermitage Steak House.Hermitage Steak House

It sits on the edges of Andrew Jackson’s property and is named after his home, the Hermitage. However, it did not always have this name. It opened as Rachel’s Kitchen, which was an homage to Mrs. Jackson. I don’t remember the Rachel years, but I vividly remember what came next.

When I was a kid, my parents took me to eat at The Peddler all of the time, and I was fascinated by it. They had crackers and butter on the table, which any kid can make a meal out of. They also had this awesome salad bar with the best Thousand Island dressing that has ever been made and sliced up Vienna sausages. I could eat them straight out of the can, so putting them on a salad bar completely made my dining experience.

Those were cool but not as cool as the guy who brought around the meat. When you ordered, this guy with a chef’s hat brought around  a rolling cart with slabs of beef. He would show you the different meats, and you could choose which slab you wanted your steak to be cut from. Once selected, he would start cutting right there at the table.

I can’t count the number of times that I ate at The Peddler. Heck, I even took a few dates there. I took a girl named Lynn to the Governor’s Inaugural Ball when we were in high school. Before going to the ball, we went to The Peddler. Later, I tried to impress a girl named Bethany by taking her there. As it turns out, she left an impression on me. When the waiter asked how she wanted her steak prepared, Bethany replied,

“Raw.”

“Rare?”

“No, raw. Place it on the grill. Flip it. Then, take it off.”

I sat there stunned as Bethany ate a raw steak. I never asked her out again.

Tonight’s experience was better than that one. My entire family was there with my girlfriend and her daughter. We talked and laughed and had a grand time. The Hermitage Steak House is still good, but some things just aren’t the same. There is not butter with the crackers. There are no sliced Vienna sausages on the salad bar. The guy doesn’t bring the meat around anymore.

We did go retro with our choice of birthday cake. It came from Clayborn’s Bakery, a locally owned place in my hometown. It started out with one name then took another one. It was closed but has recently reopened. I know that every town has a place with the best donuts, cookies and cakes in the world, but this one actually has all of those things.

However, that is another story for another day.

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Get Lucky

19 Mar

We have made it through one of those weird holidays that many Americans have adopted because it is a good excuse to get drunk. We have Cinco de Mayo, which I’m not sure is that big of a deal in Mexico. We also have the most recent one – St. Patrick’s Day. I always find it interesting because most Americans are not Catholic and are not of Irish descent. I wonder how many revellers in green actually know who St. Patrick is.

Anyway, this is not a post about holidays of drinking. This is a post about something else that is associated with Ireland. I have always heard the old saying about “the luck of the Irish”, and I have been thinking quite a bit lately about luck. I have always considered my self lucky, and this is not just some useless opinion on my part. There is scientific proof.

Many years ago, some friends and I went to a psychic. Some of us actually believed in fortune-telling, and some of us were going for the fun. We were instructed to only tell the lady our birth date and time. Honestly, we were kind of nervous because she was a local celebrity of sorts. She was a morning personality on the local Rock station that we all listened to.

So, I go into her room with my information, and she plugs it into a computer program that brought up the alignment of the stars at the time of my birth. She studied it for a while before saying that I had the highest quotient of luck of anyone she had ever read. I thought that was cool and somewhat accurate.

I have been very fortunate in many aspects of my life. I won’t bore anyone with details, but I have been able to do the things that I have wanted to do. I have seen the places that I wanted to see. I have had the job that I have always wanted to have.

I only hope that my luck doesn’t run out.

What makes luck? I don’t know. Some people say that we make our own luck. That could be true. Others say that luck just happens sometimes. That could be true, too. Heck, it could be a little of both.

To help keep my luck going, I have decided to list a bunch of “lucky” things.

Lucky Brand Jeans – I wear them, so maybe that will keep the luck flowing.

I don't wear them as well as she does.

I don’t wear them as well as she does.

Luck Be a Lady – Hey, this song was good to Sinatra, so maybe it will be good to me.

The epitome of cool.

The epitome of cool.

Lucky Luciano – He must have been lucky because he is one of the few Mafia guys who died of natural causes.

The Father of Modern Organized Crime

The Father of Modern Organized Crime

Lucky Charms – I have never eaten them. Perhaps I should.

I'm not sure about that guy.

I’m not sure about that guy.

Is that enough luck? I thought about listing Luck, the HBO series, but they killed a couple of horses. I wouldn’t consider that very lucky. There is also this great movie called Lucky Number Slevin that I have seen a thousand times, but almost everyone gets killed. That’s not very lucky, either.

That settles it. I am sticking with the “lucky” things that I mentioned, and I hope everyone that reads this gets lucky.

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Experiencing the Catbird Seat

2 Feb

Wednesday night, my girlfriend and I had reservations at The Catbird Seat, a Nashville restaurant that has garnered international recognition for being on the culinary cutting edge. We had no idea what to expect but knew that we had to experience it. In fact, we were so anxious that we arrived thirty minutes early.

That was good because it gave us the opportunity to go to The Patterson House, a cool bar that is on all of the trendy lists.

The Patterson House

The Patterson House

It is known for unique cocktails, and ours were unique. I got an Old Fashioned infused with bacon, and my girlfriend got a drink called Daisy, which is also the name of her dog. The bacon drink was cool, but the really cool thing happened when the waiter brought our check. It was not in a regular check folder. It was in a book – a real book with words and chapters and everything.

After the drinks, we made our way next door to The Catbird Seat and entered a small room with a curtain on one side and an elevator on the other. When Dorothy looked behind the curtain, she found an old man. We didn’t look behind the curtain, but there wasn’t an old man back there. It was a young hostess. She took us on the elevator to the restaurant. No tables. No art on the wall. We were going to sit around the bar; watch the chefs work; and eat the art.

The Catbird Seat

The Catbird Seat

With everyone in close proximity, we people watched. It’s the natural thing to do. In one corner was a couple with a camera, and they were taking pictures of each offering. I was trying to be smooth, so any picture on this post were not made by me.

Next to them sat a couple who had that tattooed, retro, 1950s vibe going on. They were the coolest cats in the place.

The next couple was a guy getting liquored up and a woman who ended up with the check. The look on her face was priceless because the food was far from it.

A foursome sat on the other side of us. It looked to be a young couple dining out with her parents. They seemed to like the meal, but I am sure that her dad stopped at Waffle House on the way home. There is no way that he got enough to eat.

The last people looked to be a woman with her son, who was probably a student at Vanderbilt. Overall, the crowd had a little variety to it.

Anyway, here is how it works at The Catbird Seat. You don’t order. You eat what they prepare. There are a bunch of courses with small portions. Each plate is a carefully prepared edible experiment. Some of it you will like, and some of it you won’t. But, each will be a different experience. Also, you are given a different alcoholic beverage to compliment each course. I ended up sipping a little from each one because somebody had to drive home.

Oh, and a chef explains the ingredients of each course and what they are trying to create.

The first course contained three bite-sized offerings paired with a Jean Louis Denois Brut Classique, which comes from Languedoc, France. The first bite looked like a small ice cream cone but was made of scallop, potato and roe. We didn’t like it. However, the second bite was awesome because it was essentially a Rice Krispie treat filled with seaweed. The third bite was a play off hot chicken, a Nashville staple. Except, this was fried chicken skin with spices.

Course number two was a small salad made of king crab, broccoli, green tea, yuzu and togarashi. It was paired with a cocktail made from Sawa Sawa Sparkling Sake.

Course three was not my favorite because the chef said the word truffle three times while describing it. I have no idea why chefs love truffles. They could mess up a wet dream. Anyway, this was a soupy combination with the aforementioned truffles, chicken skin, green apple, celery, roe and a runny egg. I don’t like runny eggs, either. Also, I’m not a ig fan of beer, but that was the highlight of the course. They brought out an awesome beer from the KleinBrouwerij de Glazen Toren Brewery in Saison d’erpe-mere, Belgium. Man, it took me a while to get that typed.

The next course finally contained some meat. Sturgeon, clams and blood sausage made a great combination with Kuentz Bas Riesling to drink. We were informed that it comes from Alsace, France. It turns out that the French do something right after all.

The fifth course brought more meat with chicken breast from Wedge Oak Farm along with fennel, black olive, black garlic and parsnip. It was washed down with Lechthaler 2010 from Italy.

More meat came with the sixth course. This time it was veal cheeks with beet, horseradish, yogurt and dill along with the Austrian produced Kirchmayr Zweigelt 2011.

By this time, I was having a hard time keeping up, and the courses were running together. According to the menu they gave us open leaving, the next course was made up of fig preserves, queso de torta, finca pascualete, and a few other things that I can’t read at the moment. I know that we had La Gitana Manzanilla sherry.

The meal was coming to a close, and that always means dessert. This time it meant three desserts. The first one was an almond ice cream popsicle covered with citrus cells , campari gel and cinnamon. It was awesome and came with the Italian Amaro Segesta with soda.. Not so awesome was the second dessert, an egg shell filled with maple, bacon and thyme. I thought that bacon could make anything good. It doesn’t. Next, we had oak ice cream with vanilla cake, a cherry crisp, pineapple and bourbon balls.

As I wrote, we liked some of it and didn’t like some of it. But, that isn’t the point. The point is that we had a great experience and expanded our dining horizons.

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Brunch at the Bar

28 Jan

Today, my girlfriend and I went to our favorite restaurant for brunch. Usually, the hostess, one of my former students, can get us a table pretty quickly. That wasn’t going to happen today, so we scouted the bar for seats. We have become adept at being what I call “bar sharks” – people who hang around and scout for people who are close to getting up.

This is not an accurate representation.

This is not an accurate representation.

My girlfriend’s skills were in top form, and she found a couple of seats. We ordered deviled eggs as an appetizer and settled in for some delicious delicacies. We also settled in to check out the crowd around us. Lots of interesting things can be seen at a bar at night, but a few interesting can also be seen at a bar during brunch.

First, a lot of people go to brunch after church, and it’s funny to see them all decked out. It’s amazing how God requires women to carry Louis Vuitton purses and wear big diamonds to worship. It’s as if the best dressed gets through the Pearly Gates first.

No Gucci = No Wings

No Gucci = No Wings

It’s also funny to see the church people saddle up to a bar and order a drink. Wait, it shouldn’t be that strange since Jesus turned water into wine. I wonder if he could turn it into a Mimosa and Bloody Mary, too. Heck, he could have named the second one after his mom. At least, the three women next to me who were praying didn’t order any shots.

Across the way, a couple of guys were wearing purple sweaters. I don’t have anything else to say about that except one had a floral pattern.

There was a young couple sitting next to my girlfriend, and it was hard not to eavesdrop. Actually, it was a little difficult, but we were doing our best. They were new to each other, and she kept asking him personal questions like, “Do you like dogs?”

I like dogs enough never to do this to them.

I like dogs enough never to do this to them.

He kept changing the subject about a job opening that she might be able to help him with. They split the check. He should know that if you want something, then bribery will take you a long way. Cheap people never get ahead.

There were some other sights at the bar – a couple of young wives who looked like they married for money (they had the shiny diamonds but not the shiny smiles); a couple who had to sit with the bartender exit between them (they had to lean over to talk); and people waiting for a table in the restaurant although the bar had emptied out (they must have been the Fundamentalists who risking the afterlife by stepping into the bar)

So, my girlfriend and I watched the crowd as I ate steak and eggs and she had eggs benedict. Added to the appetizer of deviled eggs, we were lucky that we didn’t lay a few. Now, that would have been something interesting to see at the bar.

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Choices

18 Dec

My nephew is home from his first semester of college, and we decided that tonight would be a good time to get together. The question was – what to do?

Our first choice was to watch Monday Night Football.

Are you ready for some football? Not really.

Are you ready for some football? Not really.

I don’t mean watch it on television. I mean watch it at the stadium. Tonight’s game was our Tennessee Titans against the New York Jets. Both teams suck, so we went with another option.

That option included a meeting of the Agriculture Center Management Committee. This is government at its highest level as we discussed putting in a bid for a championship rodeo. The presentation went on and on until I finally asked if we needed to vote on this. My comment included something about how we had been talking about it for 45 minutes. It was time to vote.

As soon as it passed, my nephew and I left. On the way out, he said that we didn’t follow parliamentary procedure and could have taken the vote about 40 minutes sooner. Look, if it takes that long for a county level committee to decide something, then think about all of the crap that goes on in Washington. It’s a wonder that anything gets done. Maybe, we would be better off if it didn’t.

After the meeting, we went to an Asian restaurant for fried rice and sweet and sour chicken.

I wonder if they really eat this stuff in China.

I wonder if they really eat this stuff in China.

Once dinner was devoured, we saw “The Hobbit”. My nephew has not seen the original trilogy, and I wondered if that would make a difference. It didn’t. He kept talking about how cool the special effects were and asking how long the movie was going to last. It did last a long time. They spent a lot of time talking in the middle of spending a lot of time fighting.

I won’t spoil the movie for those who haven’t seen it or read the book, but a few things stood out. First, no matter the situation there is always a magical or miraculous way out. Second, Gandalf seems to want people to struggle.

You must struggle before I save you.

You must struggle before I save you.

With a little magic, he could make things a lot easier. Of course, that’s the way it is with all magic stories. It is a struggle throughout but turns out to be simple in the end.

After the movie, I told my nephew that he should watch the trilogy. His first question, “Is Dumbledore in them?” I told him that Gandalf cam before Dumbledore and that Dumbledore was probably some kind of copy. I ended my little speech with, “Yes, Dumbledore is in them.”

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The Lessons of Anthony Bourdain

8 Nov

This past weekend, I saw Anthony Bourdain in concert. Well, I guess you could call it a concert. It was really a PowerPoint presentation. Anyway, I have read several of Bourdain’s books about the world of the culinary arts, which is strange since I don’t cook. His writings are filled with great stories about what life is really like in the food industry, and, as people who work in it already know, it’s a lot different from the calm atmosphere around the table.

Bourdain parlayed his writing success into a popular television show that I watch whenever I can. He travels, eats, drinks and, in general, let’s everyone know what his opinions are. And, he doesn’t give a shit who he offends. In short, that’s the life I would like to have.

When I heard that he was coming to Nashville, I had to get tickets. With the things he says on his show, there would be no telling what he would say in person. With that in mind, these are a few of the lessons I learned from Anthony Bourdain’s PowerPoint presentation.

Paula Deen is the real life equivalent of Dr. Evil.

Fried food is finger lickin’ good.

People, like me, will pay good money to watch a guy say the same things that they can watch him say on television for free.

Go ahead and burn your money.

You can never have enough dick jokes in case your PowerPoint malfunctions.

Or, you could just use pen and paper.

When someone asks Anthony Bourdain a question, it always begins with “as a fellow culinary professional” and always ends with “can I have an autograph”.

Will you sign my rag?

Russians drink a lot of vodka.

Is the war still cold?

When an old professor sits in front of you, it’s not long before you realize that he is just as cranky now as he was 20 years ago.

No one has ever made above a D in my class, and I will make sure that it never happens.

If you request an altered version of a dish, then you might receive something extra in it.

Yes, I would like the hamburger, but can I get that without the meat and the bread?

I learned a few other things, but I have to go kill a duck to make foie gras.

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A Few Days in Asheville

26 Oct

Earlier in the week, I went to Asheville, North Carolina, one of my favorite cities. It is an artistic city with eclectic shops, art galleries, interesting restaurants and, during this time of year, sits among the fall foliage of the Appalachian mountains. Unfortunately, I wasn’t artistic enough to remember my camera. So, if I include pictures, then they are going to be of the stock variety.

We arrived on Sunday morning and spent the afternoon exploring downtown. We hit a few shops and galleries, but my favorite store was a tribute to that short period of the 1960s when hippiedom was the rage. It was filled with tie-dyed shirts, beads to hang in doorways, posters of Jim Morrison and albums by The Grateful Dead.

Downtown was packed with people from all walks of life. Tourists mingled with locals, and it was not difficult to tell who was who. Mainly, the locals had their dogs. Asheville is a dog-friendly city, and man’s best friend is welcome both inside and out. However, the sidewalks were not only filled with sightseers and pets. It seemed that every corner had a musician playing for tips. Being from Nashville, this is a common thing to see. The difference, i.e. great part, was that they were not playing country music.

The sidewalks were also filled with vendors selling their wares. The most interesting was a lady who made candles in which the melted wax could be used as lotion. She invited everyone to stick their hands in the wax to try it out. I passed. I don’t like lotion.

Anyway, downtown was great, but the best part was a total surprise. We ran into the Asheville Jewish Festival and filled ourselves with hummus, potato latkes with apple sauce and sour cream, and kosher hot dogs. It was awesome stuff.

After the jaunt through the city, we drove to the Grove Park Inn, a rustic, Victorian Era hotel with one of the top spas in the country. We didn’t have time to visit the spa, but we had plenty of times to sit by the fire in the lobby and have cocktails. Some of the most famous people in American history have stayed at the Grove Park Inn, and, unlike this post, they have the pictures to prove it.

Ok, I broke down and used stock photos.

On Monday, we went to the place that everyone must visit while in Asheville, the Biltmore Estate. Built by George Vanderbilt in the 1890s, it is the largest home in the United States. Covering 175,000 square feet, the house is a monument to the extravagances of the Gilded Age. Honestly, the house is too amazing to describe and has to be seen to be believed. I have been several times and am impressed each time I go.

Another stock photo.

After touring the mansion and having lunch in the stables-turned-restaurant, we drove to the Biltmore Winery and sampled its creations. I am not a big wine person. It all tastes the same to me – like vinegar. But, I think I am cultured enough to act right during a wine tasting. I am not sure what I was drinking, but everyone else seemed to like it. I took that as a good sign for a winery in North Carolina.

The day ended with dinner at The Bistro, the restaurant that is attached to the winery. It tries hard to be on the cutting edge of the food scene. Does it succeed? I don’t know, but I know that I really liked the duck breast with potatoes soaked in orange sauce.

The next morning, we hopped into the car for the trip back home. Along the way, we had breakfast at the Cracker Barrel in Newport, Tennessee, and I realized that had made it back to the real world.

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