Category Archives: history

Lynchburg, Tennessee

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For years I have driven past Lynchburg, Tennessee — home of Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Whiskey — several times a month on the way to my hometown of Manchester, Tennessee. Lynchburg famously is the tiny little town that Jack built. It’s an old-fashioned town square tucked into the Tennessee hills and surrounded by all things Jack Daniel. So far, so good. The thing is, lately Husband and I have noticed that  every time we drive by, the square is full of motorcycles. It’s true. Apparently Lynchburg has become a motorcycle destination. And I want to know why. Also: How? I mean, what is it about Lynchburg that attracts so many bikers? And how does the word get out? Is it some sort of motorcycle flashmob? Simple coincidence? Inquiring minds … But motorcycles are not the only intriguing visitors to Lynchburg. On a recent walk around town, I spotted: 1) A stretch limo so long it took up practically one whole side of the square; 2) two guys with backpacks who talked like Bret and Jemaine from the Flight of the Concherds; 3) two barefoot guys literally running around taking digital camera shots of every building; 4) a young dreadlocked couple who wanted their picture taken with a sculpture of an elderly man playing checkers; and 5) a man with a Minnesota car tag who was asking the tourism-bureau volunteer about a route to Nashville that was both scenic and quick — and who argued with her when she told him it couldn’t be done. In Tennessee, you can be quick. Or you can be scenic. You have to choose — unless, maybe, you’re riding a motorcycle. Learn more about Lynchburg at http://www.lynchburgtn.com/ — y’all come!

Weddings

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I love weddings of couples who already have been there and done that and have no need to try to impress anybody. Such as the recent wedding of our friends Ted and Elayne, in Brentwood, Tennessee. It was simple and elegant and completely who they are, all at the same time. For the ceremony, family and friends gathered at Owen Chapel, on Franklin Road near Nashville — a 140-year-old brick church that was elegant and dignified all on its own without added frills. Everybody was joyful and relaxed, which is the only way to run a wedding, I think. Then we made our way over to their house — Elayne has lived there for years and Ted was moving in right after the wedding — for the outdoor reception, which was fantastic. We’d spent Wedding Eve in their kitchen, drinking wine and eating pizza and I was amazed at the couple’s calm — if I were having 65 people over to my house the next day I think I’d be bouncing off the walls. But Ted and Elayne are those kind of low-keyed folks who believe that everything will turn out OK, and they were right. It did. Even the threat of rain — which tends to make Nashvillians extra nervous these post-flood days — didn’t matter. We sat under a tent and talked and drank and dined on the fantastic reception menu that Ted had created: Bacon-wrapped shrimp, little sandwiches of Canadian bacon and fried green tomatoes, smoked salmon and bruschetta with excellent pesto were my favorites. And the cake! Oh, that cake!!! I’ve had some marvelous wedding cake at some great weddings, but I’m telling you this was the best. Ever. It was a rich and moist yellow buttercream and white-chocolate fondant and raspberry filling. It was gorgeous inside and out, and those flowers decorating it were rolled fondant. Beautiful! And dear husband and I had a part, too. We begged Ted to let us do something to help and feel useful, so our assignment on wedding day was to decorate their mailbox with balloons. Honestly, I was afraid that metallic lavender (OK, they actually are pink but the color theme was lavender so that’s what we’re calling it here) and white hearts might be a bit much, but Ted said it was “spectacular” and everybody said they looked good. Mainly, they said that when I asked them, but I’ll take it. So now I believe that Dear Husband and I could go into the mailbox-decorating business. Call us.

Jackson, Mississippi

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When my Dear Husband asked me to go with him to the annual Mississippi/Louisiana Associated Press Managing Editors awards luncheon this past week, I had no idea we’d be going to one of Jackson, Mississippi’s old-school-and-proud-of-it landmarks: The Capital Club. Established in 1947, it’s downtown near the governor’s mansion and the state capitol — commanding an impressive view from atop the Capital Towers building. I could just imagine all sorts of high-powered conferences going on while high-powered politicians and business folks conferred over their hand-carved roast beef. I loved all the upscale details, too — from the leather furniture in the library to the lemons and limes used in the flower arrangement. And you know I love a fancy bathroom. This one had those lovely big mirrors with chairs and makeup counters and glass decanters of hand lotion — why can’t Wal-Mart do something like this??? Dear Husband picked up a first-place award for headline writing (His paper, the Northeast Mississippi Daily Journal in Tupelo, got a total of 26 awards — sweet!) and gave a talk to the group on why he’s optimistic about the future of newspapers — gaining extra points for mentioning both me and grandson Capt. Adorable. And rumors that we got thrown out of the dining room are greatly exaggerated. Truly! After we loaded up our plates at the lunch buffet (the gumbo, sweet corn muffins and fresh coconut cake were especially delicious) we thought we were supposed to sit in the main dining room with what looked to be a core group of Mississippi movers and shakers. Turns out we journalists had our own room — away from the movers and shakers. Probably a wise move. Learn more about the Capital Club at http://www.capitalclubms.com.

Tennessee

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It’s almost strawberry time here in the South, and I had a preview at the Tater Box in my hometown of Manchester, Tennessee, with this luscious piece of silky and sweet fresh strawberry pie. The Tater Box restaurant is in a former country store that stands at an intersection of two rural roads:  Fredonia and Hoodoo. It clearly used to be a bustling spot and today at mealtimes, it still is. You can order the meat-and-vegetable-plate special or get a tasty and delicious hamburger, hot dog. sliders or chicken or grilled bologna sandwich, with homemade desserts — the banana pudding is a crowd favorite — to reward yourself. The Tater Box folks also do catering, so they may be working on elegant wedding cakes and mouthwatering trays of appetizers while they’re dishing out your fried okra and fried squash. And don’t forget the fried pickles and the sweet-potato fries. Worried about that word, “fried”? Just do an extra mile on the treadmill and remember to take your Crestor, because it’s totally worth it. This is fried without greasy and crispy/crunchy without inch-thick batter — fried at its best. The Tater Box also serves breakfast, with everything you would imagine a Tennessee breakfast to be, and has music on Friday and Saturday nights and karaoke on Tuesday nights. Check it out yourself at http://www.taterboxcafe.com and especially read the fascinating history of this building, which has been a hub of its rural community for almost 100 years.

Tuscumbia, Alabama

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I drive by this house in Tuscumbia, Alabama, practically every day — and admire it. The other day Younger Daughter was with me and as we passed it and I said how cute it was, YD said, “Why don’t you get out and take photos of it for your blog?” Since I’m not a fulltime newspaper reporter anymore I’ve sort of hung up my snopping-around hat — not that I did much of it as a full-time journalist — but I figured I could just walk around the house on the sidewalk and snap a few shots. Luckily, I don’t think anybody was home. And I did not go up on the porch, no matter what the neighbors say. I just think it’s an adorable cottage that the folks who live here seem to love, too. Tuscumbia is full of houses like this. Just come on over, park your car and wander around. People probably will invite you in for some tea — and that’s a long tall glass of iced tea in our part of the world, you know.

Decatur, Alabama

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Downtown Decatur, Alabama, is one of those wonderful historic neighborhoods that doesn’t get as much attention as it should. It sort of loses out against such publicity stars as Natchez, Mississippi, for instance. And I’m one of the worst offenders. For folks in northwest Alabama/northeast Mississippi, Decatur is “on the way” when driving east to Huntsville. Usually I’m on a schedule as I roll by the edge of downtown and I glance out the window and think, “That is so pretty. Sometime I really should come here and explore.” Because otherwise I’d miss gems such as this cottage tucked away on a quiet side street. Couldn’t you just open the gate and walk up the steps and go sit a spell on the porch? I really had to restrain myself to keep from trying out that rocking chair. There are two adjacent historic districts in downtown Decatur — Old Decatur and New Albany — where you can park your car and enjoy an afternoon of wandering through neighborhoods of cozy Craftsman cottages and stately Victorian homes. And with spring in glorious bloom right now, it’s the perfect time: Peaceful and quiet and breathtakingly lovely. There are plenty of spots nearby for shopping and eating, too, with no drive-thru lanes or mega-parking lots required. Not that there is anything wrong with drive-thru lanes and mega-parking lots. But sometimes a shady porch and the sweet smell of camellias is all you need. At http://www.decaturcvb.org/,  print out self-guided walking tours and get details on the upcoming Mayfest.

Tupelo, Mississippi

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Tupelo, Mississippi, has everything you could want: Great food, great people and great shopping. And two of those three are at The Main Attraction, downtown at 214 West Main Street. An eclectic clothing and gift boutique, Main Attraction is a place to while away the afternoon and unearth some you-can-only-find-it-here treasures. Owner  Barbara Fleishhacker is the genius behind the collection of flowy cottons, retro jewelry and fun and funky accessories. It’s Hippie Chick meets Southern Lady with a bit of Wouldn’t It Be Fun To Backpack Through India thrown in. Both Barbara and her store are warm, friendly, cool and hip all at the same time. In fact, she’s a vital voice for downtown Tupelo development and her store is a gathering spot for fellow Tupelo fans — and anybody who can’t resist the lure of a find. And, actually, there’s a coffee bar, too, so you can find all three of those things you want. The Main Attraction is open from 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. Mondays-Wednesdays and Fridays, from 11 a.m. to 7 p.m. Thursdays and from 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. Saturdays. Phone number is (662) 842.9617. Visit http://themainattraction.biz for more.

Recipes

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Although I’ve never liked any kind of meringue pie, I adore meringues — those crunchy bits of pillowy slow-baked egg-white goodness. Maybe it’s because my maternal grandmother always had a reused (I don’t think we would use the word “recycled” 40 years ago) coffee can full of them when we’d drive up from Tennessee to visit her and my grandpa in southern Illinois. I assume that with her Depression-honed frugalness, she made them from leftover egg whites — although I don’t remember her making anything especially yolk-centric. Anyway, to keep me from embarrassing her by buying four containers of store-made meringues at once, Younger Daughter has perfected her recipe and technique for homemade meringues. They’re so much better and better-for-you than store-bought. Her great-grandmother would be proud.

First, separate three eggs. The easiest way is to let the whites drip through your fingers into a bowl. Discard yolks or save for another recipe.

Add 1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar to whites and beat until soft peaks form. Add 3/4 cup sugar 1 tablespoon at a time while beating until  stiff peaks form and it’s glossy.

 Then fold in 1/8 teaspoon vanilla extract and some grated vanilla bean. Put half egg-white mixture into a plastic gallon food-storage bag and cut one of the corners off. Squeeze dollops of the mixture onto a parchment- or wax-paper covered baking sheet. For chocolate meringues, add 1 1/2 tablespoon cocoa powder and mini chocolate chips to remaining egg-white batter and repeat. Bake at a low temperature — 225 degrees — for about one hour. They’ll be yummy but still a bit chewy. Then turn oven off and let sit overnight or for several more hours to dry out. Just remember to take them out of the oven before turning the oven on for something else. I’m just saying. Anyway, I could eat a whole pan of these at one sitting. They’re really easy and fun and have no fat in them whatsoever. And I still can taste the grandmother-love in them, along with daughter-love. That is one powerful combination.

St. Patrick’s Day

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Irish things I like:

1) Pretty much any sort of food that has any sort of Irish connection. Particularly if it’s chocolate and/or fried. Or bread. So I hit the jackpot this year at Kalou’s Corner Market and Cafe in Huntsville, Alabama, which was celebrating St. Patrick’s Day with these treats. Who could resist a shamrock-shaped chocolate-covered chocolate brownie? And then there were two intriguing types of Irish beer bread — rye and cheddar. This bread was moist, dense, light and tender all that same time — and my bread-loving family did not let a crumb go to waste. Details at http://www.kalousmarket.com/

2) Guinness beer, but only for the first two or three sips. That’s about all I can handle.

3) McGuire’s Irish Pub in Pensacola, Florida. This is my favorite Irish pub ever. Okay — I know that you know this is the only Irish pub I’ve ever been in. But it’s still my favorite. It’s on my must-go list every time I’m anywhere close by. This is the place that’s papered in customers’ dollar bills. McGuire’s has its own brewery and serves wonderfully fresh-tasting beers,ales, porters and stouts. And for my dollar bills, the best dishes are on the appetizer menu — boxtys (fried mashed potatoes), seared fresh tuna over mashed garlic red potatoes and the Irish Bleu Chips, which is homemade potato chips with blue cheese. And if you detect a theme of fried and mashed potatoes here, you are so right. Check it out at http://www.mcguiresirishpub.com

4) Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt. I knew this was a memoir of a boy’s Irish childhood, but I didn’t read it until recently because I mistakenly thought it was sweet and heartwarming and sentimental — sort of the literary version of “Oh Danny Boy.” It’s not. It’s spare and harsh and ugly — and I couldn’t put it down. You won’t be able to, either.

Style

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Oh my goodness. Or, as my 23-month-old grandson Capt. Adorable says with a huge grin, “Oh my cookies!” When I was wandering through our local mall and spied this window display of new spring things, I had two thoughts: 1) Those are so cute! 2) Too bad I’m about 30 years too old to wear them. and 3) These are psychedelic T-shirts? Kids today don’t know the meaning of the words! And, okay, I know that’s three thoughts. That’s how disturbed I was at seeing these versions of what I spent my teen-age years in. I means, we were the ones who pioneered the statement T-shirt! We were the ones who liberated the humble T and turned it into cool! We were the ones who unleashed the power of Peter Max on the fashion industry! Well, you’re right, it was really our older brothers and sisters — I always say that I would have made a great hippie in the 60s but my parents made me go to bed at 8. By the time I hit my teens in the early 1970s, the hard work had been done and jeans and Ts were the uniform of the young and all I had to do was reap the benefits. Before the flower-power fashion revolution, “new clothes for spring” meant white gloves and pillbox hats. Today, thanks to the Love Generation, it means light-weight groovy T-shirts. Young people today have no idea. Oh my cookies!