FED WHITE & BLUE: SOAKED IN SAVANNAH

By the time we pulled up to our hotel on the edges of Savannah’s beautiful historic neighbourhood, the skies had already taken on a threatening dark hue. It brought with it the thunderstorms and torrential downpours we had seen forecast on the news before we left Atlanta.

Determined to see some of the city before supper, we dropped our bags in the room and immediately headed out to see if Savannah lived up to its reputation as one of the most beautiful cities in the United States. Even in the rapidly diminishing daylight, it was obvious that it did.

Savannah was founded in 1733 and the original city was designed along European lines with wide avenues and manicured squares. Most of these still remain and when combined with the local architecture and trees, dripping with Spanish Moss, it makes for one of the most engaging cities I have seen on my considerable travels around the US. Of particular interest to Sybil was The Mercer House, made famous in the evocative book “Midnight in The Garden of Good & Evil”. But, at every turn there are stunning buildings and sights to require taking the lens cap from your camera.

Our supper that evening was at on of Savannah’s most popular fine dining restaurants “Elizabeth on 37th”. As the name suggests the restaurant is housed in what I believe was once an antebellum mansion on 37th St. It was opened in 1981 by famous local chef, Elizabeth Terry and soon became known for its modern take on Southern coastal cooking. It was already filling with Savannah’s wealthy set when we arrived and were shown to a table in what had once been the gentlemen’s drawing room.

In truth, the food chosen from a small menu was fine, but nothing to write home about. Particular mention should go to a dish of local clams with cornbread Madeleines and an excellent apple tart. What made the meal memorable however was the service, which was as good as I have experienced anywhere in the US. That opinion may, of course, be coloured by the fact that our excellent server kindly brought over a bottle of Montrachet for us to finish, when he had poured a glass for another customer.

The next morning, the threatened storm had arrived with knobs on and, after a quick breakfast, we wrapped up in raincoats and braved the weather to try and complete the double task of seeing more of the city, while trying to remain reasonably dry. It was a hopeless endeavour, and, by the time it got to 11am, rainwater had already seeped through my clothing leaving me to steam inside my expensive and fetching green Cagoule.

For lunch, we had decided to brave the queues at one of Savannah’s most famous restaurants, Mrs Wilkes' Dining Room. Here, vast portions of Southern cooking have been served, family style, on communal tables for over sixty years. It is only open for three hours every day and all visitors to Savannah mark it on their list as a place to visit. That being the case, about a hundred other people had the same brilliant idea as us and we found ourselves tagging on to the end of a long line of folks sheltering under an assortment of umbrellas.

The notion of standing in the rain for at least an hour for some fried chicken did not seem anywhere close to my idea of a good time. You will know by now, however, that Sybil is made of sterner stuff than I and she remained obdurate when I suggested we should head back to the hotel and dry out. I am not very good in these circumstances, but am quietly proud of the fact that I stood in the torrent of rain for a good sixty minutes, as far from my happy place as it was possible to be, with barely a disgruntled comment.

By the time we reached the front of the line, I was pretty sure that Mrs Wilkes would have to serve up the meal of a lifetime to make it worthwhile. We were allowed in and seated at a large table filled with ten other miserable customers, all of whom were steaming nicely as they dried off in the warmth of the room and none of who seemed in the mood for conversation.

We began to silently pass around the huge plates of food that had been laid out to await our arrival. There were collared greens, yams, beans, ribs, meatloaf, corn pudding, biscuits and cornbread, pinot beans, carrot and raisin salad, apple sauce, BBQ pork, gravy and of course, their most famous dish, chicken pan fried in shortening. The chicken was magnificent stuff, the crisp coating giving way to moist flesh. We at least got enough of a response from our fellow diners to agree that we should request two more plates full of it before we were done. However, much as I am fan of Southern cooking, the rest of the food at Mrs Wilkes was a disappointment and spoke as much to the need to mass produce for the tourist hordes as it did to the Georgian hospitality that was the intention of its original owner.

Last summer I had experienced a similar style of meal at Monell’s in Nashville and told Sybil, more than once, how much better it had been. That pleased her as you can imagine. Thirty minutes after we arrived, we paid our bill of about $35 and I trudged back to the hotel to sulk. As I am sure you can guess, I rarely have need to use a hairdryer, but was thankful of the one in our hotel room, which I put to good use drying my shoes.

Our last meal in Savannah itself was taken in Noble Fare, a restaurant near our hotel with a decent reputation and a dreadful name. It was pleasant enough, if only remarkable for supplying a decent martini and a plate of domestic cheeses that confirmed my long held opinion that American cheese makers still have a long, long way to go before they deserve the name. We retired to bed by 10pm and I had vivid nightmares about standing in line at Mrs Wilkes.

Fortunately, the storms had passed by the time we woke up the next morning. We still had a couple of hours before we had to check out and drive back to Atlanta Airport for our flight back to Los Angeles. So, we took the opportunity to walk along the restored riverfront area of the city and back through the business district where we passed the crowds of people waiting for a table at “The Lady & Sons” the restaurant owned by the walking butter mountain that is Paula Dean. Suckers.

I wanted one more taste of Georgia BBQ before we left and made good use of my GPS system to guide us to the tiny town of Soperton, which boasts not only what must be the smallest City Hall on earth, but also the highly recommended BBQ joint that is Ware’s.
The meaty ribs and a first taste of Brunswick Stew, were as perfect a way to end what had been a hugely enjoyable first trip to Atlanta and Savannah

Despite the weather, we both agreed that it wont be too far in the future before we have Georgia on our minds once more.

FED, WHITE & BLUE: DOING THE A-TOWN STRUT

If luck is on my side and although I have had to delay my road trip to ten Northern states until September, I might well complete my quest of visiting every US state by the end of 2011.

For the record, I consider myself to have visited a state if I have spent at least one night there and not just transited between flights at an airport hub. On that basis, I am only ten or so shy of my goal, but there remain some glaring omissions.

Top of the list, until last week, was the Southern state of Georgia. I have flown through Atlanta’s vast airport more times than I ever care to recall, but neither business nor pleasure has ever given me chance to do anything but run at breakneck speed from gate to gate to catch a quick connecting flight. That all changed when Sybil decided to use up some of her extra holiday entitlement and book us a few days in Atlanta and Savannah.

After an early morning flight we took the chance to rest up before our first dinner of the trip at South City Kitchen. We were joined for supper by my chum and Next Iron Chef colleague, Alton Brown along with his lovely wife Deanna. Dining with someone so well known, particularly in his own city usually means that you are not going to experience a normal meal. This was certainly true in this case as the chefs kindly sent out just about every starter listed on the menu for us to sample, which when added to our main courses, and a terrific banana pudding to finish was enough to send us waddling the short distance back to our hotel.

The next morning, we woke up early to catch a train on Atlanta’s efficient MARTA system to arrive at what is now designated "The Historic MLK District. Originally the neighbourhood on Auburn Avenue or “Sweet Auburn” as it was known, was the wealthiest African American district in the US and housed businesses, shops and theatres as well as residences. It was in one of these residences that Martin Luther King Jr. was born on January 15th 1929.

Now, the whole area has been given over to a tribute to the great man. The smart house where he was born has been restored to the same condition as it was when he lived there and even more restoration work is being done at The Ebenezer Church where he preached with his father, also a minister. It was an interesting experience, particularly as in 2010, I also visited The Lorraine Motel where MLK was assassinated on April 4th 1968.

After visiting the centre dedicated to him and wandering around the neighbourhood, we headed back across town to experience an equally famous, if slightly less worthy Atlanta landmark, The World of Coca Cola.

Coca Cola was invented by a pharmacist named John Pemberton in the late 19th Century and, from that humble beginning has now grown into the multi national we all know and love (?) today, offering over 160 different beverages in every corner of the globe.

For what they dare to dub “The Happiness Factory” a trip around Coca Cola world is one of the more dispiriting experiences of my recent travels, particularly when placed, as we did, in sharp relief with the life well lived of Dr. King. There are some interesting items of memorabilia on show, but generally the whole tawdry experience is aimed at ensuring the “joy” of Coca Cola is inculcated into the mainly youthful audience as firmly and as crudely as possible.

At the end of the tour, you find yourself in the tasting room where you can sample all the varieties of soft drinks the Coca Cola Corporation make around the world. Most of them are very nasty indeed and after a few sips of some rather noxious brews from Latin America, I dragged Sybil out into the open air and as far away from The World of Coca Cola as possible. Oh yes, in case you are wondering, it costs $16 a pop to get in.

After a very necessary lunchtime hamburger at a nearby BLT Steakhouse, we headed back to the hotel for an afternoon nap and to prepare ourselves for supper at Miller Union.

I had recently been made aware of this restaurant by my chum, David Hoffman, creator of hit TV series “The Best Thing I ever Ate”. During a lunch a week or so ago in LA, he mentioned that one of his best meals of the year had been at this relatively new Atlanta hotspot. David definitely knows what he is talking about and, on his recommendation I booked a table for the Monday night. It’s certainly a popular place and was already heaving by the time we arrived for our 7.30pm reservation. We propped up the bar for a couple of well made drinks before being shown back to a small table at the rear of the room. What followed was easily my best meal of 2011 to date.

David had told me that one of their dishes, an egg baked in a celery infused cream was sensational and he was certainly right on that score. But, everything else we tried was almost as good. Sybil ordered five starters, which included the baked egg, perfectly fried balls of creamy Southern grits stuffed with a local Tomme Cheese, roast bone marrow and pork belly with radishes and carrots. The only weak point come with a slightly fridge fresh plate of pork & chicken liver terrine that lacked any noticeable seasoning and remained largely untouched by either of us.

My own main course of braised rabbit with a root vegetable broth was, if not the best thing I have eaten this year, definitely in the top five and will be hard to beat as I continue to travel and eat throughout this year. Add that to some decent desserts and very good service and we marked Atlanta down as a great place in which to eat out as we headed back to the hotel for our last night of sleep before heading to Savannah.

We picked up our car the next morning, ready for the 250 mile drive to what I had been told was one of the most beautiful cities in all of the US. I was very keen to get there and explore before the impending thunderstorms forecast on TV that morning. However, I was not so keen that I couldn’t persuade my tolerant wife to stop for some Georgia BBQ on the way.

Fincher’s in Macon, GA, might not look like much from the outside or indeed once you step through the door. It has a few battered bar stools at a weathered looking counter and a few booths along the side, one of which we squeezed into while we decided what to order. But, the smells from the kitchen promised it might be a good choice.

Sybil looked a little uncertain about the whole thing, However, one rib plate, one fried pork chop plate and one peach cobbler later (yours for $24 including service) she had to agree it was well worth the delay.

But, now we really had to get moving as the dark clouds gathered behind us.

Next stop Savannah.

P.S. I am instructed to inform you by my wife that the pictures are a mix of my own (taken on both my new camera and my phone) as well as some of hers. Hers are the better ones.