It's a Wrap

We rounded out our getaway with 2 more delicious dining spots and a tour of the Country Music Hall of Fame, as well as a stroll through the Nashville-Davidson County Public Library (one of us is a librarian but a good time was had by all).

Originally, I had mentioned The Pancake Pantry as a possible breakfast spot on Sunday morning. It's God's day in the south. Surely, the popular and famous breakfast joint would be deserted, right? Oh, wait...there's a Tennessee Titans football game about 5 miles away that starts at noon. Also, there are a fair amount of heathens living in the south. So, after several minutes of reading Trip Advisor reviews and travel bloggers lamenting the hours spent in line waiting for a breakfast food that I make at least once a month, we decided maybe a plan B was appropriate here. We asked the concierge at the hotel. And the bartender. And Siri. Ultimately, we decided to try Puckett's Grocery and Restaurant, which has 2 location - one in downtown Franklin. I love it when breakfast is less than 8 miles away.

I realize that any dining establishment with the word "grocery" in the name conjures up images of 7-11 or Wawa (shout out to my VA crew) or Pic-Pac (holla back to my Frankfort posse). But I assure you it delivers on the "restaurant" side of things just as well.

I was in such a starved state by this point that I didn't even realize my menu had sprouted a forehead at the top when I snapped this.

My many thanks to everyone for looking perfectly normal and not at all annoyed by having your picture taken by a tourist. Also, please don't sue me for posting this on my blog. I tried not to include anyone who was shoving grits down their pie hole. (See? Cute grocery/market-like atmosphere with great attention still paid to the dining aspect. I didn't peruse the shelves for fear of coming home with more food items.)

Our server was decently attentive considering the Sunday morning masses and this being her first morning shift. As a regular during the dinner crowd, she could tell us all we wished to know about baby back ribs or shrimp and grits but not a single thing about the omelets. That was slightly less than helpful but we muddled through. First, the coffee, water, chocolate milk.

Then the harder decisions.

The Pancake Pantry is most notable for their sweet potato pancakes so I ordered them at Puckett's as a kind of consolation prize. But after I shoveled these down in a record 4 minutes, I declared them even better (with a 99% less wait time). Also, I realize that frying bacon rarely requires a degree in Chemical Engineering, but I wish my bacon tasted like that. It was crispy with a perfect meat-to-fat ratio. And it wasn't drowning in its own grease. Clearly, I'm doing it wrong. With breakfast down and a quick stop at the restroom (word to the wise: the bathrooms are in the kitchen and it's a 1-seater so you get a glimpse into what's going on at the grill there but you also feel a bit underfoot while you're waiting in the inevitable 4-woman bathroom line), we stepped outside to discuss the day's game plan.

I was now driving separately since we were checked out of our hotel and moving in a northern direction. Five girls piled in a Rogue now became 3, plus 2 in a Prius. After getting all the way into Nashville together, the Rogue GPS took the girls to the left and mine peeled us off to the right. Fortunately, I was with the most experienced Nashville traveler. After cutting off a Nashville police officer, nearly T-boning a Titans fan and driving all 4 lanes of a traffic circle somewhat simultaneously, I managed to swerve into the convention center parking garage...where we found the others 2 floors down.

Dear Country Music Hall of Fame,
When you decided to include the words hall of fame in your museum name, perhaps you should have also included dedicated parking. It's just a thought. I would rather not be at the whim of local parking lots during an event like an NFL game. Although I only took 1 business class in college, I still understand the concept of supply and demand.
Sincerely,
The girl who drove the girl who is out $10 because of the whole thing

Anyway, we made it.

Part of our reason for going was to see the Kenny Rogers and Alan Jackson special exhibitions. There was also one for Miranda Lambert, but that was not a deciding factor. Upon entering the front doors, we were greeted by a lady who explained the ticket packages available. The basic ticket was for the museum only. Add-ons included an audio tour of the Hall of Fame, a bus ride over to the historic RCA Studio B where you would receive another tour and a tour of Hatch Show Print ("one of the oldest letterprint print shops in America and a true Nashville icon") all for the bargain basement price of $54. Actually, when you consider that the Hall of Fame alone costs $25, that isn't a bad deal for an all-day visit. I would like to go back and do the other 2 at some point, but on this given Sunday, we were a little crunched for time. Husbands to relieve and children to hug and all that.

As interesting as the Kenny Rogers exhibit was (I had no idea he was a photographer who studied under an assistant for Ansel Adams), I felt it was a bit squeezed into the space it was allotted. Perhaps the worst mistake a museum curator can do when setting up an exhibit, I think, is to put it in a room with doors....that close. There was a film about Kenny's life that was playing on a loop so a fair amount of people were standing around watching that, plus the artifacts on display and his photos hanging and all of the people standing, reading, looking and then walking - usually right into the person in front of them who is doing the same thing. There was a lot of "excuse me" and bumping of purses and small children. I think he deserves a Dixie Chicks-sized wide open space to display all of his accomplishments and service to others. And perhaps more on the whole roasted chicken thing...because HELLO, random...

Somehow this is the only photo I took in the Kenny Rogers room but I had to get it as a constant reminder of what plastic surgery can do for a person...love it or hate it, Dolly Parton has an impossibly tiny waist with great big knockers. She got a variety of tomato named after her. They are apparently voluptuous orbs of juiciness. I personally think her figure would also lend itself well to the creation of some kind of double-mounded cake pop, seeing as it's on a stick and all.

Alan Jackson's exhibit was a bit more spread out, stretching along a wall behind a long glass panel. I had forgotten the bucketloads of amazing hits he had and vowed I would rock out to 90's country all the way home. I did and it was wonderful.

I am now going to show you a bunch of outfits worn by country music stars. These are only the ones I found most entertaining...for an assortment of reasons.

 In case you accidentally mistook him for a coal miner or something...

As hot as I'm sure this made Jerry Lee Lewis look, I think if Neal ever tried to leave the house in ruffles, I would make him change immediately.

 Patsy Cline was one classy lady. And the only person I know who could pull off fringe, my father included.

 Is anyone going to be heartbroken if this style fails to make a resurgence?

I think if I had feathers trailing down from my sleeves, it would make my batwing arms far less noticeable.

 Trisha Yearwood's boots - proof that she truly is Garth Brooks' soulmate.

Do you go to your costumer designer one day and say "I would really like something that says God bless you and kiss my ass" and this is the result?

There were also some perfectly normal ones.

 I actually have shoes fancier than those red heels owned by Crystal Gale. And I would like to someday have my own flight suit.

 I remember Dwight Yokum wearing this outfit. Shortly thereafter I bought my first pair of pre-ripped jeans, which my grandfather questioned me about constantly. He kept trying to buy me new ones...without the holes and rips.

 A little something from the McGraw-Hill closet. Wait a minute, isn't that a textbook publisher?

 I actually bought a shirt similar to the one on the left for Neal to wear. I think it might still have the tags on it. We call this look Rascal Flatts-sexy.

Dixie Chicks keepin it classy in black. I'm so sad they made one political statement at the height of their fame and now they are nowhere to be found. Come back, Dixie Chicks! We are out of Iraq now. Keep your trap shut about Syria and you can have the mic. 

As I mentioned, there was much ado about Miranda which was mildly annoying. I feel like you should put in your time before an entire wall is dedicated to your blossoming career. But your rhinestone-studded Mrs. Shelton belt was pretty fabulous. And I've always wondered what those award show cards look like on the inside. 

But there was also this. Elvis Presley's solid gold Cadillac, complete with installed TV and storage.

It is good to be the king.

And...this...

Webb Pierce's gun and money mobile. I couldn't even get all the awesome in one picture on my phone. Pearl-handled revolvers as door handles, a silver rifle mounted on the trunk, horse heads protruding from the gas cap, a saddle covered in half-dollar coins instead of an arm rest...yes, I think you should see this in person. I could show you more but, in this case, seeing is believing. This alone is worth the trip to Nashville. I don't care where you live.

If these costumes look familiar, then you grew up watching Hee-Haw. It was a Sunday night staple for us. The skits and songs were always a favorite in our house (I've been known to sing "where oh where are you tonight" to Neal during deployments) and my cousin played one of the nurses for awhile. That's pretty much my only link to fame. Hee-Haw. Try to conceal your jealousy.

One of the more fascinating aspects of the museum for me was the display of original manuscripts for famous songs. So often I think of a country music star grabbing a piece of hotel stationary or a bar napkin and jotting down a chart topper when most of the time it seems to be a piece of legal pad paper

The best and worst of country music...a little achy breaky heart by fellow Kentuckian (and unfortunate father of Miley) Billy Ray Cyrus.

or just some good ole fashioned single ruled white notebook paper. Nothing too fancy or romantic about that.

I took a picture of this because someday I'm going to have to explain telegrams to Blue and it will help to have a visual aid.

And there's an entire Curious George episode about homemade instruments so I'll have a chance to whip out this picture.

After we wandered through all of the halls, slid down the gigantic blow-up guitar slide and questioned the complete absence of many famous country musicians (i.e. Montgomery Gentry, Shania Twain, Kenny Chesney, etc, etc, etc), we bid farewell to the Hall of Fame and went in search of the Nashville Public Library for a quick stroll through their children's section.

It was recently featured on NBC for their children's puppet shows but the entire floor is rich with creativity and inspiration. In addition to making their own puppets, they are often gifted unique puppets, which they display inside glass cases near the back of the department.

And they showcase art by children in the community.

This is how a children's library should be.

So, with the renewed energy of a thousand toddlers and the appetite of a thousand more, we went in search of lunch and our last meal in Nashville.

Upon our arrival Friday night, one of the girls suggested a place called Merchant's in downtown Nashville. She said something about duck fried tater tots and then I quit listening because I was imagining myself backstroking through a pool of aforementioned tots. But Merchant's was booked until 9:30 PM (10:30 our time) on Friday night. So, we bid farewell to any thoughts of tots. But then Sunday afternoon rolled around. The game was still on and the early birds had eaten their fill. We rolled into Merchant's at 3 PM with duck fat on the mind. (Somewhat related, "duck fat" is one of those tricky phrases if you are the least bit dyslexic.)

We were immediately seated on the patio and handed a menu of awesome from which to choose.

Why yes, girls...I do believe this calls for duck fat tater tots and baked cheese. In fact, bring one of everything!

OK, while not quite everything, we put a major dent in the appetizer menu.

And while you're at it, I'll have the fish tacos. Because I have a long drive ahead of me and something must get me through the next 120 miles.

I have managed to avoid saying this through the entire post, but....FOODGASM. There. I said it. I did it. And now I'm freaking starving and it's 1:45 AM and the entire house is sleeping. Gah.

As a sidenote, those tater tots are also delicious warmed up several days later. Even better if they are devoured in the pantry after you've distracted your toddler with Rio 2.

Merchant's and Puckett's definitely lived up to the hype and I'm thrilled I didn't have to stand in a 2-hour line for a pancake. The Hall of Fame was fascinating and I wish I could have seen more about the musicians that I adore but I understand that they must rotate their collection due to the sheer volume of it so I'll just have to plan a return trip.

Thank you for re-living this little music city getaway with me. I don't think I'll be able to wait another 8 years but maybe these posts will get me through until the next one.

Girls Gone Mild

It's true.

If you look in the mirror and repeat 3 times, "I love fall," a white girl in yoga pants holding a pumpkin spice latte will suddenly appear.

I'm that girl.

I'm in my yoga pants right now, typing this between sips of my own homemade (not quite as good but far easier on the bank account and the batwing arms) pumpkin spice latte.

I freakin' love fall, y'all. I love fall so much that I accidentally booked every weekend in October before the month even began. Technically, we are over-booked. I'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

There's no better way to kick off my favorite month of the year (and one that speaks so personally to me as it represents Infant Loss Awareness Month and Breast Cancer Month) than a girls' trip south. And boy, am I due. My last girls' trip, to the best of my recollection, was summer of 2006. So 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010...screw it...I'm DUE. The 5 of us chose Nashville as our destination, both for the plethora of activities one may enjoy without a toddler wrapped around the legs and for the proximity to our houses. We had 2 1/2 days. Greece would have been amazing, but Nashville it was.

Being...well, me, I emailed out a possible itinerary a week before, complete with dining, shopping and sightseeing options. We were staying in Franklin, TN because the hotel rooms on Broadway in Nashville are absurdly expensive. As in, I'm sorry...did you say we are staying in Nashvegas or Times Square? We wanted to have a good time. We did not want to put our families in debt doing it. So, we found a lovely Marriott in Franklin, which, as it turns out, was pretty swanky and fun in its own right. Also, it did not have bed bugs. I know this because one of the girls has had traumatizing experiences with bed bugs and hotels and insisted that we check our beds from the inside, out. I'm not kidding.

Did you know that headboard can come off the wall? It's just mounted on a little ledge. That must be checked for bed bugs. Also, the bed stripped and the seams around the bed checked for anything that is hard to flick off. And did you know there is a website where you can check to see if the hotel has been reported for bed bugs recently? Also, there is a bleach spray you can make and bring with you for anything you feel may need sanitizing. This was all very educational...but at the end of the day, I think I still firmly belong in the camp of "I would just rather not know what's under that sheet."

I slept like a rock on Friday night. It may have been the absolute certainty that I was NOT sharing my sleeping space with critters or the fact that no one was waking up 5 times in the middle of the night, insisting that I put him back to bed or...maybe both...but man, I was all kinds of rested the next morning. Like coffee was almost an after-thought kind of rested. That never happens. But I grabbed one anyway because our agenda was full and it's fall so why wouldn't I have a latte when presented with the opportunity?

The first stop was the Franklin Farmers Market. I had read about it online and it looked promising. Any business that goes through the work of keeping their website up to date (ahem, unlike Daisy & Elm, unfortunately) and especially a non-profit like a farmers' market, seems like a good gamble to me. I remembered reading that there were food trucks onsite every Saturday morning so we agreed to make that our breakfast stop, as well. It was pretty fabulous.

(This is also what my front porch looks like right now. I found Three Springs Farm in Elizabethtown and sort of over-bought on mums because a) it's my absolute favorite flower and b) it's FALL Y'ALL and c) the buds were still closed so my enjoyment would last so much longer than a bunch bought from Kroger. But 9 pots of mums is a lot of mums, apparently. Whoopsie.)

And there was this:

Wait, what?

It's a...

oh hell YES...it's a crepe food truck!!! Smiles for everyone! Actually, I read on the website that the crepe food truck is a staple at the Franklin Farmers Market and really, they had me at crepe. This stop was completely non-negotiable. Mama wants crepes.

A twee bit on the pricey side but it's made with all locally sourced ingredients and after reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver, that has been more of a way of life around here. So, I'll pay a little more for eggs that were just laid yesterday...especially if I don't have to be the one raising the chickens. This was a cheese, bacon and egg crepe but there was also brie and apricot crepes and banana with nutella crepes. I bounced between the 3 for several minutes before finally deciding that if I was going to make it to lunch, I was going to need some protein.

Also, it was amazing.

One of the girls picked up a hot chicken and biscuit from these guys...

How much do I love an Airstream that serves fried chicken and biscuits? There just isn't enough time to count all the ways. I tried a piece of her breakfast and, again, divine. Hot chicken is a Nashville thing and while I never got another chance to have it for a meal, it's on my next itinerary for sure. It's not spicy but has the tiniest bit of a kick to it. Really delicious fried chicken at its finest.

After breakfast (and in an effort to stay warm), we cruised the rest of the farmers' market. Vendors offering everything from all-natural skin care to hand-stitched fingerless gloves to these handmade houses were available.

A. I don't know what it is with Nashville and Elvis. They are obsessed. And granted, his blue suede shoes certainly took country music in a new direction, but I don't know that it warrants the kind of idolization that's going on down there.
B. About 10 seconds after we walked past this guy's booth, a gigantic gust of wind caught one of his stands and sent 2 of his houses crashing to the ground. Wood splintered among gasps of shock and sympathy. Lessons learned the hard way, I'm afraid.

Of course there was an entire tented area set up for the farmers. So many tables of fresh fruits and vegetables, including a woman who makes her own pasta. It made me a little sad that I had no way to keep any of it fresh. Homemade pasta with some of the season's last tomatoes...oh how I long for that meal. At the end of one of the farmers' rows was a table where 2 women were selling a farmers' market cookbook called Cooking In Season. All of the recipes were gathered from the farmers, as well as those who shop the market regularly. They were taste-tested and voted on and compiled into one beautiful book that's broken down by season. All of the ingredients can be found in the market during that season and each recipe contains about 4-6 ingredients. Plus, all of the proceeds go right back to the market. Sold!

Then...we found the doughnut truck.

Considering $7 for 6 handcrafted doughnuts to be a fabulous bargain, we stocked up on the cinnamon sugar ones, although blueberry pancake sounded downright delicious, too. They were soft, warm, sugary, melt-in-your-mouth loveliness. It was even better than essence of chicken.

That's right...at the Fleet Street Pub in Printers Alley (where we dined Friday night) the dear departed spirit of your poultry will apparently hover right above your chicken pot pie. Ghostly sounds cost extra.

After the crepes and the doughnuts and the fresh food porn, we gathered ourselves and headed out. It had been quite the successful trip to the Franklin Farmers Market. This girl was happy...

because, after all...it's Fall Y'all!

Next stop, Cheekwood Botanical Garden!