Thursday, June 26

Sweet Home Alabama

Karin Tracy, web designer extraordinaire, was recently so surprised by how much she enjoyed the food while down South visiting family that she wanted to write a column about it. What follows is her diary of a long weekend in Alabama, including two trips to Waffle House.

A few weekends ago my husband, Dan, and I packed our bags, boarded our dog (for the first time -- sob!) and headed on down to Anniston, Alabama. (Interesting Anniston tidbit: John Aniston — father of Jennifer, Victor on "Days of Our Lives" — chose the name Aniston while driving through it on his way to Hollywood.)

Trips to big cities are our usual vacations of choice, so why visit a small town in Alabama? Well, last summer most of our family moved away (was it us? do we smell?) and we were due for a trip down South to visit Dan's dad and stepmother.

After meeting us at the baggage carousel and exchanging "happy-to-see-you-hugs," my in-laws admitted that they've been worrying for weeks about what to feed us. See, Dan and I are pretty strict vegetarians, and while his parents are accepting of this in theory, our diet confounds them in practice. (Note: Dan's grandmother once quizzed me on the foods I wouldn't eat, and completely threw me by inquiring as to whether or not I eat peanut butter. I'm still trying to figure that one out.)

We tried to assuage their fears by pointing out that we can find something to eat pretty much anywhere, and particularly in ethnic restaurants. "Italian is always good," noted my half-Italian husband. "There are no Italian restaurants in Anniston." "Indian?" "Nope." "Thai, Japanese, Vietnamese, Greek?" "Nope, nope, nope, nope."

Oh dear. "Tex-Mex?" "Yes!"

So off we went, to the Frontera Café located at the bottom of the very picturesque mountain in Anniston.

After having ascertained that, yes, the tea was sweetened, and no, they didn't offer an unsweetened version, I was heartened to find Dr. Pepper on the menu. I like my soda sugary, but I prefer my tea to taste somewhat like a teabag. The menu was de rigueur for a Tex-Mex joint, which was a blessing, because it took me three tries to understand the waitress when she was asking for my drink order due to her thick Southern drawl. I made a note to try to use context clues if I couldn't easily translate over the remainder of my visit.

Minutes later, kicking myself for forgetting to order a most appetizing sounding guacamole salad, my "side order"' of jalapenos arrived. Easily one-third of a jar of pickled jalapeños was placed in front of me, eliciting oohs and aahs from the in-laws. Dinner quickly followed, and the entire side order of jalapenos was unceremoniously dumped onto my bean and cheese burrito. I may not be from Texas, but I can eat spicy foods like a native Texan. Save the peas and carrots medley in the bean burrito (?), the burrito was quite tasty, and we ate like it was going out of style. My in-laws encouraged total gluttony, as they seemed to be afraid that we'd find nothing else to eat during our visit.

The drive up the mountain to their house was very pleasant, and I was happy to note several styles of architecture and a gorgeous view down into the valley. One glass of merlot later, I was sleeping like a baby, with my window wide open to the Alabama night.

The next morning we piled in the Cadillac and drove down the mountain to the famed Waffle House. Had Dan not been wearing his seatbelt the day before when we spotted said Waffle House, he might have started doing back-flips. Nothing makes my hubby happier than the notion of a waffle, hash browns with cheese – smothered, for those of you down with Waffle House lingo – and some eggs. Shoving into a booth made for two, the four of us happily shoveled down near-lethal quantities of cholesterol (my request for an egg-white only omelette was rejected by our waitress, who told me that my omelette would be much too small that way) and fat. Twenty minutes later (Damn! those Waffle House cooks are fast!), we waddled out to the car.

[As this is littleplate, I shan't digress and mention the non food-related touristy activities, but let it be known that Dan and I were pleasantly surprised by the little town of Anniston.]

Dinner was at Zach's — a local favorite and a regular haunt of my in-laws. They were concerned that we wouldn't find much to eat, but we could tell they really wanted to introduce us to some of their places, and, besides, I was certain we would find something.

"Something" turned out to be mostly of the fried variety — fried green tomatoes (yum!) and fried dill pickles (a new one for me). Both were served with Ranch dressing, and though I enjoyed the fried dill pickles while they lasted, something tells me my blood pressure will be eternally higher for having eaten such large quantities of sodium in a sitting. Dan pronounced them yummy, notable since he usually doesn't like pickles. Add those fried goodies to a baked potato and a side salad and you have at the components of a filling meal.

Sunday morning was a real treat. The sun was shining, the back deck inviting, my third book of the weekend – The Secret Life of Bees – was fabulous, and we all had brunch on our minds.

Brunch was held at The Classic on Noble, a decadent space on Noble Street. Monday through Saturday the space functions as a catering facility, but Sunday morning they open the doors to the public. After being served the tallest glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice ever, we each headed for the buffet tables. (Note: when I say buffet, think glamorous wedding buffet, not Sizzler buffet.) The "Salad" table was filled with gorgeous mesclun greens topped with fresh strawberry slivers and toasted almonds. Bean salsas, fried green tomato salad, various patés, a large smoked salmon, mini bagels and lox all fought for space on the table.

After eating huge plates of salad in under five minutes, we headed off to the "Omelette and French Toast" table. My omelet was light, fluffy and crammed with sharp cheddar, red peppers, tomatoes, and onions, while the French toast was made of adorable little slices of baguette, quickly dunked in an egg mixture flavored with cinnamon and nutmeg, and finished with real maple syrup and powdered sugar.

While I had a second helping of salad as "dessert," which confounded Dan, he made it to the dessert table. In the interest of symmetry, he had both a slice of chocolate cake with vanilla frosting and a slice of yellow cake with chocolate frosting, and pronounced both delightful.After an emergency stop at home (you try drinking four glasses of orange juice in under an hour!), we all headed out in the car for a driving tour of outer Anniston. Much of the talk in the car pertained to scheduling in a trip to Sonic for milkshakes. A friend who had been down South recently advised us of the "Birthday Cake" milkshake at Sonic, which involves actual chunks of cake swirled into a milkshake, and we were bound and determined to sample it for ourselves. Much to our disappointment the Anniston Sonic was not running that particular special; however, they do have a regular menu item called the Hot Fudge Milkshake. It was nirvana in a paper cup. Warm, fudgy, perfectly thick... pure bliss, and a genius idea!

Dinner was "catch as catch can" -- a phrase I had never heard, much to the amazement of my family. So Catch was a fresh tomato sandwich and a smattering of chips. To be honest, the hot fudge milkshake was still too fresh in my mind to really concentrate on dinner.

Our last breakfast was a repeat of our first — good ole' Waffle House. I mixed it all up by ordering a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich (which somehow seemed the healthiest choice there). Dan, a creature of habit, enjoyed the same meal as two days prior. And with that Waffle House meal, we ended our culinary adventure in Alabama. Obviously, being vegetarian, we missed out on many of the typical Southern foods, but we enjoyed ourselves perhaps even more than we expected nonetheless.

Thanks to Paul and Lee for the invite down South. We'll be sure to come back soon!