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By far, one of the best meals I had in Athens (aside from the grits that resulted from an over-the-stove cooking lesson from Mama Granberry) had to be at The Last Resort Grill. Round-the-clock busy, we had been deterred once already by an hour or so wait to get a table for just two (which led us, quite fortuitously, to Casa Mia just across the street.)
Our second attempt to hit up The Last Resort was for Sunday brunch and MG wisely decided to get us there early enough to beat the post-Church crowd, and it was a brilliant idea. Our party of five was seated almost immediately, right next to the kitchen. Normally, this would be my least favorite spot to sit in a restaurant, but the spectacle of meals that made their way past me on their way out to the rest of the restaurant made up for the unfavorable table. Drifting past me with the regularity of New Year’s Rose Parade floats, the gorgeous food kept my jaw dropping for the next ninety minutes. Having witnessed it, I firmly believe it’s next to impossible to order a bad meal from this place.
Captured in the front yard of Matthew and Amanda Granberry - Cleveland, Georgia
This is Matt and Amanda Granberry's backyard. I'm jealous. If it wasn't for the brutal humidity, I'd be insanely jealous.
Spinach Feta Grill at The Last Resort - challah toast dipped in egg batter, then grilled to perfection, topped with poached eggs, mushrooms, artichokes, feta, roasted red pepper sauce and spinach
The Last Resort Grill - 174-184 West Clayton Street, Athens, GA
No one seems to do brunch as well as Georgia. Wanna see more? Click below!
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Over 1600 Waffle Houses grace this great nation of ours, mostly in the South.
Their signs, plain and tall, beckon you from the interstate. The melody to “Prop Me Next to the Jukebox if I Die” by Joe Diffie pings off the countertops. The Waffle House’s vibrant, laminated menus are reminders that theirs is an establishment where quick cleanups and a rarely changing food roster are keys to success. Patrons are conditioned to know what they want and how they want it before they push through the glass door. When a stuffed truck driver vacates a booth, the employee wipe-down process is so instantaneous that the seats are still warm when a family of Sunday churchgoers claims them next.
Eat, drink, pay, get out. That’s what the Waffle House strives for. And the customers seem happy to comply. All except me, of course. I was the only one in the place who, instead of scarfing down my meal the moment it arrived, began photographing it. Our plump Waffle House waitress, Roxie, observed my actions with a mildly bemused grin before asking, “Ya’ll aren’t from these parts, are ya’?”
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Two things I will not soon forget about Athens, Georgia:
1.) The bats no one bothered to tell me about ahead of time.
2.) The downtown bars with great big wooden rocking chairs open to customers who enjoy a little soothing sway while they drink themselves half into the bag.
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When you wake up in Los Angeles, you might be greeted by the L.A. Times at your doorstep, or some sushi delivery flyers, perhaps that morning’s Variety or Hollywood Reporter. In Athens, Georgia, don’t be surprised if your west coast expectations are challenged. The following was taped to my mirror:
Really, what else can be said? If I had a few more days here, I might take Nature’s Harmony Farm up on their very generous offer. The photo opportunities alone would be worth it.
I took the daytime tour of downtown Athens and the University of Georgia yesterday. The mercury was hovering around 100 and despite the abundance of tree-provided shade, it was, as my friend Steve always put it, “hotter than a shit house in July.” The campus was established in 1785 and has over 30,000 students in attendance. The historic buildings and gorgeous landscaping make every turn of the eye a treat. Click on the images below for a high-res version, and then back-button to return for more:
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Posted 1 month, 1 week ago. 2 comments
Athens, Georgia is home to the University of Georgia and the Georgia Bulldogs. And in case you didn’t know that before arriving here, you quickly learn.
If you want to increase your business, I’m told all you need to do is incorporate the word “Bulldog” into your name or plaster the image of one on your front window. Incidentally, if you want to go out of business in a rapidly declining spiral, substitute the word “Gator” for “Bulldog.” The residents of Athens are not particularly partial to the University of Florida.
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Posted 1 month, 1 week ago. 1 comment
For my last birthday, MG and I ditched L.A. and flew up to Seattle for our very first visit. We had three days to cram in a lot of sight-seeing, but we managed to hit everything on our lists, including the top of the Space Needle, the aquarium, a harbor cruise, and yes… a gay piano bar, an insect museum and a bad-ass Henry the VIII puppet show featuring bloody beheadings, puppet blowjobs, and talking vaginas… in case you were wondering.
And of course, we spent a large chunk of a day exploring the Pike Place Market. It’s probably the biggest tourist attraction in the city, but one that’s actually worth every bit of accidental elbowing you may encounter. It’s been in operation since 1907 and sits on the corner of a very steep hill facing out to the Elliot Bay waterfront. Built into the Market are several lower levels with antique dealers, toy shops and eateries, but the star attraction is the street level itself. Endless food! Beautiful, aromatic, enticing food! I could have easily wandered around there from sun up to sun down. Plus, the day brought us just enough drizzle and ominous cloud cover to enhance the vibe without washing it away completely.
Here are some of the highlights from the day. I encourage you to click on the images below for hi-res versions where you can really soak up the color.
Posted 7 months, 1 week ago. Add a comment
Francis Joseph “Lefty” O’Doul was a home-grown San Franciscan who played for the New York Yankees, Boston Red Sox, as well as the New York Giants and went on to manage the local San Francisco Seals from 1937 to 1951. He is credited as being instrumental in spreading baseball’s popularity in Japan, serving as the sport’s goodwill ambassador before and after World War II. The Tokyo Giants, sometimes considered “Japan’s Baseball Team,” were named by him in 1935 in honor of his affiliation with his New York team.
Lefty opened his hometown restaurant and pub on Geary Street in 1958. The place is dark and woody, crowded with baseball memorabilia, and throngs of patrons who clearly feel at home and no doubt crowd the place on a regular basis.
The term “watering hole” may not have been invented for this place, but it certainly applies. Ask the guy next us at the bar who was about 3003 sheets to the wind (“I’m forty-fooour… of course next year I’m gonna be forty-threeeee…. I look pretty good for forty-nine, don’t IIIIIIIII?” And of course, this was at about 11:30 in the morning. The lengthy bar and comfy stools stand directly across from a steam tray line where cooks serve up hand-carved roast beef, ham and pastrami, filling the stomachs of the business district at lunchtime.
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Posted 8 months, 1 week ago. Add a comment
Perhaps you’re actually old enough to remember and relish the era of Joltin’ Joe Dimaggio and his 1941 record hitting streak (56 consecutive games). Or perhaps you’re just someone, like me, who every so often imagines hopping into a time machine, slipping into a dark gray flannel suit, cuff links and fedora for an evening of decadent wine and Italian food surrounded by dark mahogany walls, high-backed leather booths, crystal chandeliers and Marilyn Monroe peering at you from across the room. Either way, if you’re in San Francisco, you’re bound to end up at Joe Dimaggio’s Italian Chophouse.
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Posted 8 months, 2 weeks ago. Add a comment
The hard-boiled glamour-grit of Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler is alive and kicking at San Francisco’s John’s Grill. What the 2009 John’s may be lacking in dangerous dames and Sidney Greenstreets it more than makes up for in décor, historical presence and old-style steakhouse charm. Customers who wander in are greeted by lines of wooden honky-tonk styled piano chairs, white linen tablecloths, paneled oak walls, and – at least until 2007 – a replica of the famed Maltese Falcon itself. John’s Grill has been helping to keep alive the American underbelly represented so masterfully by noir culture since the joint opened up over one hundred years ago.
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