Recycling

This past week I found these two examples of recycling — a past-its-prime Wise Man from a plastic outdoor Nativity set someone brought to the recycling center and these intriguing ceiling lamps that are part of the fun and funky decor at Urban Standard, one of my favorite coffee shops in Birmingham, Alabama. I’m not sure what the lamps were originally — some sort of barrel or crate for some kind of food? — but I am sure that I’d take one home in a minute. But the real mystery, of course, is about the lone Wise Man: I mean, what happened to the other ones? Are there two Wise Men sitting in somebody’s yard somewhere, trying to do the job of three? And why was this one deemed ready for recycling? His beard was a little spotty, but that was all my husband and I could find that might be wrong with him. Inquiring minds … And, no, we didn’t bring him home. We’ve rescued abandoned kitties, dogs, chairs and filing cabinets, but I draw the line at Wise Men.

Food

I love going to cooking classes, mainly because that sort of gives the illusion that I actually cook — you know, much like driving past a gym while you’re wearing tennis shoes makes you think that maybe possibly you might work out sometime eventually. But I do truly learn things in cooking classes, such as the one I took recently at the Shoals Culinary Complex in Florence, Alabama. Justin Letson, chef de cuisine (I’m not really sure what that means, but I’m impressed anyway) at the nearby Robert Trent Jones Golf Course, demonstrated a fall menu featuring apples, pork and one of his favorite dishes — Pommes Anna. This potato dish is known for its beautiful spiral design of thin and delicious potato slices, and Justin shared his secrets for making it perfect: Patience, a steady hand and patience. And a mandolin you can use — several class members admitted to buying one, taking it home, getting frustrated at not being able to operate it and taking it back. I haven’t even taken mine out of the box … since I bought it a couple years ago. And, granted, while patience is not my strong point. But this dish is so stunning and lovely, I may finally face my mandolin fear and summon up some patience and give it a try. And you should, too. Justin’s recipe for Pommes Anna is below, and if you want to find out more about his apple recipes — which really were the stars of the class — read the TimesDaily story  at http://www.timesdaily.com/article/20091104/ARTICLES/911045000

Pommes Anna

Prepare 1 cup brown butter (melt butter over medium heat until nutty brown), 6 tablespoons minced garlic and 6 tablespoons of a fresh herb blend (suggestions include thyme, rosemary, oregano and sage). With a mandolin, slice 4 potatoes 1/8-inch thick and arrange slices in a spiral pattern in a buttered non-stick oven-proof saute pan. Drizzle potatoes with butter and sprinkle lightly with salt, pepper and herb mix. Repeat layers as often as desired. Place pan on stove top for a minute until sides start to lightly sizzle and bubble. Place pan in 350-degree oven for 20 to 30 minutes until cooked through. Test with knife — if insertion and removal are easy, it’s done. Invert onto plate, slice and serve.

Journalism — and Jewelry

Younger Daughter and I recently were browsing through an antiques mall in Florence, Alabama, when she called me over to where she was standing. “Isn’t this your story?” she asked, pointing to a framed story from the local newspaper — the TimesDaily — about pins that was next to a display of wonderful vintage pins. And YD was right — there was my byline from my former days as a staff writer for the TimesDaily life section, before I retired almost two years ago to become a financially challenged but incredibly happy columnist and freelance writer. I have to say that it was sort of a strange feeling to see such care taken with a story I didn’t even remember doing — one of several hundred, probably, I don’t remember doing throughout the 10 years I worked in the TimesDaily newsroom. Yet there was my story, years later still stuck in black and white (well, sort of faded beige) and still influencing folks to think about buying a vintage pin because “brooches update fall wardrobes.” I have to admit it was a strange sensation to see this — a kind of out-of-body, did-I-really-write-that experience. Sort of makes you think. Sort of makes you hope you did a good job. Sort of makes you wonder how many other things you wrote are floating around influencing people to do things. Sort of makes you promise yourself to Write Only Good Things From Now On … beginning, maybe … tomorrow.

Restaurants

Sweet Magnolia Cafe, a new restaurant in Seven Points in Florence, Alabama, has quickly become the place everybody’s going to. Owners Doug Johnson and Ken Shepski have created a stylish eatery that offers fresh and creative food (I could just dive into that salmon salad right now) combined with friendly and attentive service — always a winning approach no matter how scary the economic scene. The small inside space is somehow both cozy and chic and nobody seems to mind the literal lack of elbow room — this is not the place to gossip unless you want all of Florence to hear about your cousin’s neighbor’s sister-in-law’s affair. You can also dine outside, on one of Seven Points’ actual seven points — one of the best sidewalk-cafe spots around, especially when you’re sipping an espresso and nibbling on Italian Creme Cake and thinking that next time you’re really going to have to try the Red Velvet Cake, too. And of course you know I can’t go into a restaurant without checking the bathroom — and Sweet Magnolia gets extra credit for extending its theme of efficient yet upscale design even into this all-important room. In fact, I would recreate the whole bathroom in our own house, although my husband, for some reason I still don’t understand, detests the sink-bowl trend and prefers the good ol’-fashioned white enamel sink with three-fixture chrome faucets. Oh, well. I think Sweet Magnolia’s stylish version might change even his mind. Seven Points in Florence  — a formerly bustling retail center with tons of history and ambiance — is one of those areas that people shake their heads about and say, “It’s such an interesting spot with so much potential. Somebody should go in and open up someplace really cool.” Well, now somebody has. Let’s hope for the best. Visit the Sweet Magnolia Cafe’s Web site at http://www.thesweetmagnoliacafe.com/.

Haunted Houses — and History

I do not like scary, bloody or gory stuff. I can barely sit through a CSI or Shark Week episode. Okay, that’s a lie — I cannot sit through a CSI or Shark Week episode. This is why I stay away from the “haunted houses” that open up during October around here. Other folks love to pay good money to scream and run away from axe-wielding zombies and come-to-life mummies, but not me, thank you very much. So when a haunted house opened up in Florence, Alabama, with the promise of only slightly spooky stories and a tramp around the grounds of a historic mansion, I was in. This is the Sweetwater Mansion, home to Robert M. Patton, who completed the home in 1835 (his father-in-law had started it a few years earlier). Patton was Alabama’s governor from 1865 to 1868. Sweetwater was a showplace that once included 3,800 acres of land and played host to many Civil War politicians and officers. Today, it’s neglected and deteriorating and surrounded by traffic and development — there’s a convenience store practically in the front yard. Owned by Susan Smithson, a former Shoals resident now living in Atlanta, Sweetwater and its remaining 22 acres are for sale, priced at several million dollars. Volunteers have banded together  to raise money for historic repairs and renovation and are sponsoring a haunted house this month. Some friends and I bundled up, fortified ourselves with a thermos of hot coffee and paid our $20 each. Our tour guide took us to five storytelling stations around the house and grounds (including the family graveyard), where we heard creepy ghost stories that scared us just enough and got close-up views of the house, the kitchen and the repair work that was underway. One of my friends took photos that showed spooky sort of orbs floating around. I didn’t get any of those on my photos — but losing this historic gem is scary enough. Learn more about the Sweetwater mansion at http://sweetwatermansion.com/

Renaissance Faire

There is only one spot this weekend where you can converse with a troll, dine on a roasted turkey leg and be presented to royalty: The Alabama Renaissance Faire in downtown Florence. And, why, you may ask, does Florence host the official Alabama Renaissance Faire? Well, for one thing, Ferdinand Sannoner, an Italian who helped surveyed the town in 1818, named it after Firenze, the beautiful Italian Renaissance city built around the River Arno just as the present-day Florence is situated on the Tennessee River. And for another, this is Ren Faire Alabama-family-style. There’s no drinking and no R-rated entertainment. You can bring both your grandmother and your grandchildren here without fear of embarrassment. In fact, education is a major part of the faire. Throughout October (and really all year long), Ren Faire volunteers visit local schools and give programs on life in Renaissance times. There are art, sonnet and chess contests for students, and high-schoolers get to help out at the faire for extra credit. Plus, the Faire is free, it’s in a small confined space — downtown’s Wilson Park, turned into the Fountain-on-the-Green for the duration — and it’s full of child-friendly crafts, food and fun. If you’ve ever shied away from a Ren Faire because you envisioned drunken pirates and way-too-buxom maidens running around, then this is the place you need to be – 10 a.m. to 6 p.m., Saturday, Oct. 24 and noon to 6 p.m., Sunday, Oct. 25. Go to http://www.alarenfaire.org/ for more info on the Alabama Renaissance Faire.

History

There was drama — literally — in downtown Florence, Alabama, this week as volunteers donned costume and reenacted the infamous story of Mountain Tom Clark. A renegade Civil War deserter, Clark returned to Florence near the end of the war and with a gang of fellow thieves and outlaws pretty much held the town hostage through robbery, murder and general mayhem. After a particularly grisly murder at a nearby plantation, Clark finally was caught. But before he could come to trial, an unruly justice-seeking mob dragged Clark and other gang members from their jail cells and lynched them — and a legend was born as rumors and secrets swirled. Who exactly was in Clark’s gang? Did prominent business people have any connection to the outlaw? And where were the men who were supposed to guard the jail on the night of the lynching? Hmmm…. will we ever know the truth? More than 140 years later, we’re still fascinated with the story. Local historian and head of the Florence-Lauderdale Public Library local history/genealogy department Lee Freeman (in T-shirt above) has spent countless researching the Tom Clark story and trying to separate fact from fiction. This past week the library sponsored a reenactment of Clark’s capture and arrest. Lee wrote the script and costumed volunteers played the roles of key characters in the story, with much of the action reenacted in downtown Florence on the exact spots where the story originally happened. About 30 of us trooped along at twilight, following Clark’s murderous path around town that culminated in a jailbreak so authentic that during one night of the reenactment, concerned citizens called the police to report a violent fight in the middle of the street. And no wonder it was so convincing — many of the Shoals’ best actors were involved, such as my friend Anna Gibson (above) as Mrs. Blair, mother of the city marshall who captured Clark. But Mrs. Blair had another claim to fame and she charmed our group with tales of how she smuggled necessary goods from Nashville, Tennessee, back to Florence during the Civil War. Other actors played Florence merchants, the mayor, a member of Clark’s gang, Clark’s wife and children, the Confederate-veteran marshall who arrested Clark and the outlaw himself. One of the actors was even descended from the character he was playing — I love the South! The reenactment was great fun, and it was wonderful to see all ages there soaking up some local history.

Restaurants

Yes, the economy is bad. Yes, people are watching their pennies. Yes, businesses are failing every day. Yet, in my town of Florence, Alabama, a newly opened Chinese restaurant is so popular that there’s a line to get in from 11 in the morning until 2 or later in the afternoon — pretty much unheard-of around here. And that’s not even including the takeout business. Even weeks after it opened, there’s still a half-hour or so wait at lunch. But so worth it. Everybody asks, “Have you eaten at the Rice Box yet?” and the lucky ones talk dreamily of the fresh-tasting vegetables, the light and flavorful stir-fries, the innovative sushi rolls and, of course, the fried dough rolled in cinnamon and sugar known as Chinese doughnuts. (I have to limit myself to one 10-piece order a week.) Why is this place successful when so many others aren’t? I’m not sure, but here are some observations: The Rice Box has 1) good food that’s actually cooked to order in the kitchen instead of warmed-up in the microwave after being off-loaded from the freezer truck; 2) affordable prices that mean you don’t have to feel guilty or sacrificial about eating out; 3)  a knowledgeable, friendly and efficient staff that keeps the traffic flow moving without stress; and 4) unobtrusive cleaning that keeps things neat and sanitary despite the crowds. Plus, it’s in a nearly empty shopping center where rent, I’m sure, is not astronomical. The Rice Box decor is calm and serene without being cloying — the dark wood and contemporary lighting makes it seem modern and sleek — and the restaurant’s layout means diners can peek into the bustling kitchen and grill area but the noise and chaos doesn’t take over. I’m not sure exactly what the Rice Box is doing right, but it sure is doing something. Check it out at http://www.ricebox.us – and you’d better go ahead and get two orders of doughnuts.

Music

Oh my goodness. In my town of Florence, Alabama, the annual W.C. Handy Music Festival is the party of all parties. It’s a full week of music and dancing and getting out and being friendly with folks you may only see during Handy Week. You probably associate Handy with Memphis or St. Louis, but the Father of the Blues was born in Florence in 1873. In 1982 some local folks formed the Music Preservation Society to remember and honor the favorite musical son. The first Handy Festival was a weekend of music featuring Dizzy Gillespie. Now, it’s a week-long celebration of jazz, blues, gospel, country, rock-’n'-roll and things I don’t even really understand but enjoy anyway. Music is everywhere during Handy Week — or just “Handy,” as the locals say. You can hear performances at restaurants, in parks, in stores, on sidewalks — anywhere a musician can set up. Most of Handy is free, although a few concerts have admission. Handy Week wraps up on a Saturday with a New Orleans-style street strut through downtown. Folks deck out themselves and their parasols — many marching for a cause such as breast cancer awareness — and strut their best stuff. So much fun! The two things I like best about Handy Week are 1) You can park yourself somewhere and sit and enjoy free live music for hours and 2) Everybody — and I mean everybody — gets out and has a good time. Tentative dates for 2010 are July 17-26. Put that on your calendar and check the W.C. Handy Music Festival site, http://www.wchandymusicfestival.org, for info and the TimesDaily site, http://www.timesdaily.com/article/20090725/VIDEO/907252012# for a video of the strut.

Gardens

My friend Polly has one of the most beautiful home gardens I’ve ever seen. She’s a retired teacher, and most of the work she’s done in these photos has been in the past three years. Can we say “incredible energy?” She and her husband travel around the world, but I think I would just park myself in the backyard if mine looked like this. I especially love her zen approach to gardening: It’s organized, but not formal or structured — the plants, flowers, herbs and vegetables just sort of spill out in exuberant joy. And she’s got such whimsical touches everywhere: Birdhouses, sculptures, yard art, chairs, gates, fences, stepping stones, arches. It’s a treasure everywhere you look. Polly and her husband live within the city limits of Florence, Alabama, but with the deer grazing in the front yard and the creek dancing over on the side and the abundant shade trees cooling everything off, you feel as if you’re at a wonderfully isolated woman-made Eden — yet bustling civilization is just at the end of the driveway. To my mother’s eternal frustration, I remain ignorant of all things gardening. I mean, I can tell a rose from a daisy (that’s the yellow and white one, right?) but that’s about it. Yet even a non-garden person like me can recognize and appreciate a green paradise such as Polly’s garden. I’m just glad there are folks like her in the world who know what they’re doing with seeds and dirt so folks like me can enjoy.