As I prepared to head to Washington for pre-deployment training, I discovered that I didn’t know a lot about what would be expected of me or what I needed to take with me, and so I began, as I would in the law, a discovery process.
I sent e-mail after e-mail to the company representative to find out what kind of clothing I would need, where I would be staying, how much money I would need (as all expenses would be paid), whether we would have any free time, and the like. I got answers, but the most important questions did NOT get answered: 1) When did I leave; and 2) When would I return? My cousins Ryan and Sarah and their darling baby Lily were coming to see us on the Friday after the seminar was over on Thursday. I wanted to make sure that I would be leaving in time to greet them as they arrived at our house for their first visit as a family.
I finally got my travel arrangements – on the Thursday before I was to leave on Sunday. And the news was NOT good. I had asked to be sent from the Kansas City airport, which had a direct flight to Dulles on the Sunday afternoon I needed to appear, and a return non-stop on the Thursday the seminar concluded. I searched the flight, notified the company, and assumed that the ticket would be waiting for me. Wrong. For some still unknown reason, the company sent me out of Columbia, Missouri.
Columbia is a fine town. It is home to the University of Missouri, has a James Beard-nominated chef, and is large enough to have some entertainment and yet small enough to feel “home-y.” Unfortunately, however, Columbia is not large enough to have a really fabulous airport. When I say that, I do not mean that the people who work there are incompetent or unfriendly – quite the contrary. The people, all of whom, I believe, wear many different hats at the airport, are lovely. Lines are short, pat-downs few, everyone wears a smile: in general, a good airport experience. The only drawback, however, is a major one, especially for a person on a tight schedule. Columbia’s airport has one flight per day leaving for Atlanta, one flight per day leaving for Memphis, one flight per day arriving from Atlanta, and one flight per day arriving from Memphis.
None of those flights coincided with what I needed and had requested. Unless I wanted to pay an additional $250 per direction, which I did not, I was going to have to leave before church started on Sunday, meaning someone would have to take my place three days later on the piano at the praise service and on the organ at the traditional service. My good friend Sandy stepped up to help me at the praise service and to play the hymns at the second service, and my wonderful friend Jerree, who does not read music but who plays the organ beautifully, agreed to play the service music for the second service. I felt humbled and grateful.
What was equally bad about the situation was that my cousins would arrive at our house approximately five hours before I would. Because Max was on his annual teaching week “at the Ranch” in Wyoming, he wouldn’t be home until Saturday. Someone would have to let Ryan and Sarah and Baby Lily into the house!
That someone was my good friend Kim, who first bought some snacks for them that Friday, and that was when she discovered that the air conditioning at our house wasn’t working. I cannot do comedic justice to the scenes that followed as she called me frantically to tell me that the house was HOT. I was in the Atlanta airport waiting for the plane that would take me to Columbia where my sister Libby would pick me up, and I tried to tell Kim how to re-set the thermostat. I assumed that Max had simply adjusted the temperature when he left for Wyoming, not realizing that I wouldn’t be back in time to get the house cool. She followed my instructions, and told me that nothing was happening. She did not feel an immediate flow of cool air. I figured that I left something out, and so tried again. Again she followed the instructions, and again felt no cool air. I thought I was not being clear. I asked her to take a picture of the thermostat and text it to me. She did. Then she sent another text of a picture of the second part of the thermostat. Then I called her back. At some point, we figured that the air conditioning wasn’t working properly. Then I couldn’t remember the name of the company that put in our air conditioner, so I had to look it up - except that the Atlanta airport DOES NOT have wi-fi. Can you imagine? Eventually, I got the White Pages app on my phone to work, and found ACR, and remembered that they had installed our air conditioner and maintained it.
So I called them, explained my situation, and they went immediately to the house to fix the problem. Unfortunately, the house wasn’t yet cool enough for people to sit in it, so Kim and her family then hosted MY family for a couple of hours and then for dinner. What a good friend! Everyone should be so lucky.
I wish I could tell you that the problems ended there. But they didn’t. For some reason, the air conditioner was still not working upstairs where we would sleep that night, and so for the second time that day, I called ACR and told them about the problem, and for the second time that day, they came right away to fix it. Sometimes, nothing beats living in a small town.
I wondered that night, after 12 days in Washington, D.C., where I first knew no one, and left having 17 good friends, whether leaving that small town and those people who would give so much for me would be worth it. I became afraid yet again about leaving - my leaving would change me and my life, them and their lives, and maybe nothing would be the same ever again.
I didn’t pay much attention to that thought, though, thinking that the company had not really offered me a job, and so this might not even happen. I think I was right then hoping that it wouldn’t, that I wouldn’t have to face the fear that could soon overwhelm me, that I wouldn’t have to endure such upheaval, that I could rest in the comfort that was home, in the comfort that nothing would ever change.
But then, I got the phone call. It was right after Court, the very next Wednesday. I just happened to look at my phone, which was on silent, and saw a number coming in from Virginia. I could have ignored it. But I took the call.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Friday, August 24, 2012
Spending the Night Away from Home
When I was ten or so, my best friend Susan asked me to go with her to Camp Zoe, somewhere outside Salem, I think. She had been there for a couple of summer visits with her cousin Sally, and loved it. I thought it sounded like fun – canoeing, swimming, hiking, and the like. Mother and Daddy said I could go, and I planned and packed and anxiously awaited our departure date. And then, I realized I couldn’t go. I couldn’t imagine spending two whole weeks in an unfamiliar place, with people I didn’t know, eating food that I might not like, sleeping in a strange bed. I couldn’t leave home.
Later that fall, Marilyn Cover (the woman whose child I should have been, believed my mother) had a special treat for me. She had tickets to see Rudolf Nureyev in St. Louis. We would leave on a Friday, drive to her sister’s house, where we would stay for the weekend, look around the city on Saturday, see the magnificent dancer on Saturday night, and then drive back to Thayer on Sunday. I was terribly excited until, you guessed it, the time came to go. And I couldn’t. I couldn’t go with one of my favorite people to do something she knew I would love (something I came to regret deeply after I went to college and watched danseurs of similar notoriety and quality), because I couldn’t go away from home to stay in a strange place, be around someone I didn’t know, sleep in a strange bed, or eat possibly weird food.
Then, the summer after my sophomore year in high school, our band director, Mr. Oliver, wanted several of us to go to band camp to study for a week under his leader and mentor, Mr. Mason, the band director at Southeast Missouri State College (SEMO). No one really wanted to go, but I, who would have done practically anything for Mr. Oliver, talked Nancy Martin into going with me. She played drums; I played the clarinet. Our mothers drove us over to Cape Girardeau, where they moved our suitcases and necessities to the third floor of an un-air conditioned, old dormitory, that was nowhere NEAR as lovely as our own homes. They left us, although we looked, I’m sure, stricken, and drove the 3 ½ hours back to Thayer. I’m sure you can guess what happened next. By now the theme is clear. We called our mothers and asked to be taken home. So, bless them, they drove BACK over to Cape the next day, picked us up, and drove us home. They were none too happy about it.
Ergo, you can probably understand my internal conflict as I sit here in Atlanta, at the international terminal, waiting for a plane that will take me away from my home for a year – and not to some “garden spot” of the world (from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid), but instead to Afghanistan. You heard right. The thing is, I never have really left home. I did go to college, but I went home every weekend. I moved to Sedalia, but that was to marry my husband, and it was not long after that that my mother, and then eventually my sister, came to live in our town. Except for a couple of continuing legal education seminars that lasted three weeks and one week respectively, I have spent nearly all of my life in the comfort of my own home, making and eating my own food, sleeping in my own bed, and being around the people I love and who miraculously love me back. So how did this departure come about? What could possibly have possessed me to say that I would take such a leap to go to a third-world country for a year of my rapidly passing life?
The story started a few years ago: I am municipal judge, and have been since 1996. I am elected every two years, and I take my responsibilities to the voters very seriously. They have entrusted me with the job of finding and administering justice – even though most of my cases deal with relatively innocuous infractions: speeding or people beating up on each other on a Saturday night. I try to do the best job I can. Unfortunately, the City Council, a few years ago, decided that they didn’t like some of my decisions, and that the best way to replace me with someone who would see things more their way was to remove the position as an elected one, and appoint the judge instead. Being a generally smart girl, I knew they were NOT going to appoint me. And so I started looking for another job.
I was somewhat disillusioned with practicing law, and I was very disillusioned with the Council’s idea of separation of powers, so I decided to take my job search far and wide as well as close to home. I checked into getting a Master’s degree in criminal justice at our local University in Warrensburg, because I could not teach criminal justice at the University without a Master’s degree, regardless of the fact that I have a juris doctor. I looked into teaching elsewhere, but refused to consider teaching English at the high school level. I had one disastrous year of that and was not willing to subject myself to that stress again. Around the time I was feeling low, my husband got an e-mail from a colleague at the Trial Lawyers’ College who had just returned from a stint in Iraq – not carrying a gun, but instead mentoring defense lawyers in Iraq’s justice system. What an opportunity! To be a part of a nascent justice system, to do something that I believe is really important, to use my talents to make a difference, not just in my community, but in a different part of the WORLD! Max told me I should apply; I told him HE should apply. So we both applied.
In the meantime, the people rose up in revolt against the City Council and demanded that their right to elect their judge be reinstated, and feeling somewhat sheepish, the City Council complied and rescinded its decision. The next April, I was elected by a huge margin. I’m sure the Council was elated (add: dripping sarcasm).
So back to the story. For a long time after we submitted our applications, we heard nothing. And then I got an e-mail from a recruiter from an international company known for “logistics.” That means the company can put people on the ground, feed them, house them, protect them, and do a job – all over the world. The recruiter asked me to re-do my resume to fit a particular format, and to get it back to him ASAP; however, the company was re-bidding the contract, and it wasn’t due for several months. Then I heard nothing. I checked with him later, and he said the contract was delayed. Then I heard nothing.
In January 2010, I heard from him again, and he asked me to send my updated resume ASAP. I was in Las Vegas at the time, celebrating our daughter’s 21st birthday, but I was able to ship the resume via e-mail. Then I heard nothing. About six weeks later, I received an e-mail saying that I was going to be invited to a pre-deployment seminar in Washington, D.C., and you guessed it, then I heard nothing.
Last October, when I was celebrating my 40th high school class reunion (I graduated YOUNG!), I got an e-mail asking for my latest resume, and so I sent it, expecting to hear nothing. However, I did hear back: the company asked me to attend a pre-deployment seminar in April, but I couldn’t go because the substitute judge couldn’t take the bench for the two Wednesdays I would be gone. So I declined, explaining that for me to be gone from my life for any time at all, I have to find a substitute pianist, organist, judge, and teacher, and need more than two weeks’ notice to do so. I received a reply telling me that perhaps the company’s customer would no longer be interested in me. Boldly, I retorted that I believed I would be very interesting to the customer, because I was not interested in ducking out on commitments. I suggested that with more than two weeks’ notice, I would be happy to attend the next seminar. I heard nothing.
Then lo and behold, six weeks prior to the next seminar, I received what would be my final invitation to a seminar, this one to be held late July. It was somewhat miraculous, if you believe in miracles. It was the best of fate, if you believe in fate. And if you believe in the idea that, given enough time and God’s discernment, things generally work out for the best, then God was granting me discernment to see what could be a wonderful opportunity: I was not teaching, and so did not need to find a substitute teacher, the choir was not singing and so I did not need to find a substitute accompanist, I had only one trial scheduled for the day the substitute judge could not attend, and so it could be continued, and the substitute organist and praise band pianist were both available for the one Sunday I would be gone. It was obvious to me that it was meant to be.
And here is the kicker, and the one that truly makes me cry: I went to the City Council to tell them that I would probably be requesting a year’s leave of absence, and instead of greeting me with little-disguised glee at their opportunity to get rid of me, the current mayor and Council members congratulated me on my achievement, told me they were proud of me, and wished me well, hoping that the year would bode well for me, and as a result, for the city. I was overwhelmed with their generosity of spirit and their support, and figured that the way it worked out, this was obviously the right and best move for me at this particular time. I went home in tears, both because of the support I felt, and because I knew that there could be no option for me other than to do well at the seminar and then go on the deployment that would most likely be offered. As many of my friends would say, “It’s a God thing.” And at this point, I think I tend to agree.
Later that fall, Marilyn Cover (the woman whose child I should have been, believed my mother) had a special treat for me. She had tickets to see Rudolf Nureyev in St. Louis. We would leave on a Friday, drive to her sister’s house, where we would stay for the weekend, look around the city on Saturday, see the magnificent dancer on Saturday night, and then drive back to Thayer on Sunday. I was terribly excited until, you guessed it, the time came to go. And I couldn’t. I couldn’t go with one of my favorite people to do something she knew I would love (something I came to regret deeply after I went to college and watched danseurs of similar notoriety and quality), because I couldn’t go away from home to stay in a strange place, be around someone I didn’t know, sleep in a strange bed, or eat possibly weird food.
Then, the summer after my sophomore year in high school, our band director, Mr. Oliver, wanted several of us to go to band camp to study for a week under his leader and mentor, Mr. Mason, the band director at Southeast Missouri State College (SEMO). No one really wanted to go, but I, who would have done practically anything for Mr. Oliver, talked Nancy Martin into going with me. She played drums; I played the clarinet. Our mothers drove us over to Cape Girardeau, where they moved our suitcases and necessities to the third floor of an un-air conditioned, old dormitory, that was nowhere NEAR as lovely as our own homes. They left us, although we looked, I’m sure, stricken, and drove the 3 ½ hours back to Thayer. I’m sure you can guess what happened next. By now the theme is clear. We called our mothers and asked to be taken home. So, bless them, they drove BACK over to Cape the next day, picked us up, and drove us home. They were none too happy about it.
Ergo, you can probably understand my internal conflict as I sit here in Atlanta, at the international terminal, waiting for a plane that will take me away from my home for a year – and not to some “garden spot” of the world (from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid), but instead to Afghanistan. You heard right. The thing is, I never have really left home. I did go to college, but I went home every weekend. I moved to Sedalia, but that was to marry my husband, and it was not long after that that my mother, and then eventually my sister, came to live in our town. Except for a couple of continuing legal education seminars that lasted three weeks and one week respectively, I have spent nearly all of my life in the comfort of my own home, making and eating my own food, sleeping in my own bed, and being around the people I love and who miraculously love me back. So how did this departure come about? What could possibly have possessed me to say that I would take such a leap to go to a third-world country for a year of my rapidly passing life?
The story started a few years ago: I am municipal judge, and have been since 1996. I am elected every two years, and I take my responsibilities to the voters very seriously. They have entrusted me with the job of finding and administering justice – even though most of my cases deal with relatively innocuous infractions: speeding or people beating up on each other on a Saturday night. I try to do the best job I can. Unfortunately, the City Council, a few years ago, decided that they didn’t like some of my decisions, and that the best way to replace me with someone who would see things more their way was to remove the position as an elected one, and appoint the judge instead. Being a generally smart girl, I knew they were NOT going to appoint me. And so I started looking for another job.
I was somewhat disillusioned with practicing law, and I was very disillusioned with the Council’s idea of separation of powers, so I decided to take my job search far and wide as well as close to home. I checked into getting a Master’s degree in criminal justice at our local University in Warrensburg, because I could not teach criminal justice at the University without a Master’s degree, regardless of the fact that I have a juris doctor. I looked into teaching elsewhere, but refused to consider teaching English at the high school level. I had one disastrous year of that and was not willing to subject myself to that stress again. Around the time I was feeling low, my husband got an e-mail from a colleague at the Trial Lawyers’ College who had just returned from a stint in Iraq – not carrying a gun, but instead mentoring defense lawyers in Iraq’s justice system. What an opportunity! To be a part of a nascent justice system, to do something that I believe is really important, to use my talents to make a difference, not just in my community, but in a different part of the WORLD! Max told me I should apply; I told him HE should apply. So we both applied.
In the meantime, the people rose up in revolt against the City Council and demanded that their right to elect their judge be reinstated, and feeling somewhat sheepish, the City Council complied and rescinded its decision. The next April, I was elected by a huge margin. I’m sure the Council was elated (add: dripping sarcasm).
So back to the story. For a long time after we submitted our applications, we heard nothing. And then I got an e-mail from a recruiter from an international company known for “logistics.” That means the company can put people on the ground, feed them, house them, protect them, and do a job – all over the world. The recruiter asked me to re-do my resume to fit a particular format, and to get it back to him ASAP; however, the company was re-bidding the contract, and it wasn’t due for several months. Then I heard nothing. I checked with him later, and he said the contract was delayed. Then I heard nothing.
In January 2010, I heard from him again, and he asked me to send my updated resume ASAP. I was in Las Vegas at the time, celebrating our daughter’s 21st birthday, but I was able to ship the resume via e-mail. Then I heard nothing. About six weeks later, I received an e-mail saying that I was going to be invited to a pre-deployment seminar in Washington, D.C., and you guessed it, then I heard nothing.
Last October, when I was celebrating my 40th high school class reunion (I graduated YOUNG!), I got an e-mail asking for my latest resume, and so I sent it, expecting to hear nothing. However, I did hear back: the company asked me to attend a pre-deployment seminar in April, but I couldn’t go because the substitute judge couldn’t take the bench for the two Wednesdays I would be gone. So I declined, explaining that for me to be gone from my life for any time at all, I have to find a substitute pianist, organist, judge, and teacher, and need more than two weeks’ notice to do so. I received a reply telling me that perhaps the company’s customer would no longer be interested in me. Boldly, I retorted that I believed I would be very interesting to the customer, because I was not interested in ducking out on commitments. I suggested that with more than two weeks’ notice, I would be happy to attend the next seminar. I heard nothing.
Then lo and behold, six weeks prior to the next seminar, I received what would be my final invitation to a seminar, this one to be held late July. It was somewhat miraculous, if you believe in miracles. It was the best of fate, if you believe in fate. And if you believe in the idea that, given enough time and God’s discernment, things generally work out for the best, then God was granting me discernment to see what could be a wonderful opportunity: I was not teaching, and so did not need to find a substitute teacher, the choir was not singing and so I did not need to find a substitute accompanist, I had only one trial scheduled for the day the substitute judge could not attend, and so it could be continued, and the substitute organist and praise band pianist were both available for the one Sunday I would be gone. It was obvious to me that it was meant to be.
And here is the kicker, and the one that truly makes me cry: I went to the City Council to tell them that I would probably be requesting a year’s leave of absence, and instead of greeting me with little-disguised glee at their opportunity to get rid of me, the current mayor and Council members congratulated me on my achievement, told me they were proud of me, and wished me well, hoping that the year would bode well for me, and as a result, for the city. I was overwhelmed with their generosity of spirit and their support, and figured that the way it worked out, this was obviously the right and best move for me at this particular time. I went home in tears, both because of the support I felt, and because I knew that there could be no option for me other than to do well at the seminar and then go on the deployment that would most likely be offered. As many of my friends would say, “It’s a God thing.” And at this point, I think I tend to agree.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Mothers and Daughters
I remember Emily's being young and our going shopping. She, even then being visual, gawked and dawdled, and I would say, "You are like my little duckling, following along in mother's footsteps!" Now, she is much too big to be considered a duckling, except that she is my duckling, and will always be.
After Max left Savannah for home and Susie and Dick went exploring on the way to Hilton Head, Emily and I had much fun getting manis and pedis and talking about life after school and in her first job, whatever that would be. We also walked up and down Broughton Street, looking in windows, making small talk, and for me, spending more than a few minutes remembering what it was like to have a child who came out remarkable and has stayed that way.
We tried to make reservations for a restaurant we had tried when we went to Savannah last August - Cha Bella - which is a really good locovore restaurant, but it was having a special chef's dinner and had no seating available. We decided to try another locovore, Local Eleven Ten, which is in an interesting location - kind of off the beaten path and in a neighborhood, but still close to downtown. The decor is clean, contemporary, and spare, and looks like something I would have expected Emily to design had she followed her first job inclination and been an interior architect (too much math!). The menu is seasonal and has unusual items - for instance, we had Brussels sprouts. I had a scallop that was not quite done enough for me, but the kitchen was kind enough to put it back in the pan for a few seconds and not make fun of me for asking. As an aside, it is quite an eye-opener to eat dinner with one's child and have her know just as much, if not more, about wine that the parent!
After our dinner, we went to Circa once again to meet Emily's friends Jeff and Angie for a cocktail. They were still at work, so we waited for them, and then, after some really good Scotch, headed back to the apartment.
The next day was to be my last in Savannah for a while, and I dreaded leaving. I probably am being silly about not iiking being so far away from my child, but I think that my proximity with my mother and my sister - forever, mind you, except for a couple of years when they lived in California - has spoiled me about what kind of contact is acceptable for parents and childre (perhaps Emily is fine with living so far away!), especially if the relationship is comfortable and enjoyable. Anyway, we just whiled away the day, running a few errands, and finally the time came for Emily to get to work as a bartender at A.Lure. She got ready - always running late - and I eventually followed her after I packed for the next day's trip.
I spent the next four or so hours seated at the A.Lure bar watching my little girl be a big bartender, making small talk with the patrons, and generally doing a really good job. After a while, Susie and Dick came to join me, and we drank a glass of wine together. They were leaving the next day as well, and we wanted to spend a little more time together.
Eventually, it was time for me to go, and time for them to go, and time for me to prepare to leave Savannah once again. I didn't look forward to my trip home, but I looked forward to being home, even as much as I had enjoyed leaving it some eight days before. Luckily, Susie took some great pictures and I attach some of them here.
My next travel blog entries will be forthcoming, but somewhat different. Stay tuned.
,
After Max left Savannah for home and Susie and Dick went exploring on the way to Hilton Head, Emily and I had much fun getting manis and pedis and talking about life after school and in her first job, whatever that would be. We also walked up and down Broughton Street, looking in windows, making small talk, and for me, spending more than a few minutes remembering what it was like to have a child who came out remarkable and has stayed that way.
We tried to make reservations for a restaurant we had tried when we went to Savannah last August - Cha Bella - which is a really good locovore restaurant, but it was having a special chef's dinner and had no seating available. We decided to try another locovore, Local Eleven Ten, which is in an interesting location - kind of off the beaten path and in a neighborhood, but still close to downtown. The decor is clean, contemporary, and spare, and looks like something I would have expected Emily to design had she followed her first job inclination and been an interior architect (too much math!). The menu is seasonal and has unusual items - for instance, we had Brussels sprouts. I had a scallop that was not quite done enough for me, but the kitchen was kind enough to put it back in the pan for a few seconds and not make fun of me for asking. As an aside, it is quite an eye-opener to eat dinner with one's child and have her know just as much, if not more, about wine that the parent!
After our dinner, we went to Circa once again to meet Emily's friends Jeff and Angie for a cocktail. They were still at work, so we waited for them, and then, after some really good Scotch, headed back to the apartment.
The next day was to be my last in Savannah for a while, and I dreaded leaving. I probably am being silly about not iiking being so far away from my child, but I think that my proximity with my mother and my sister - forever, mind you, except for a couple of years when they lived in California - has spoiled me about what kind of contact is acceptable for parents and childre (perhaps Emily is fine with living so far away!), especially if the relationship is comfortable and enjoyable. Anyway, we just whiled away the day, running a few errands, and finally the time came for Emily to get to work as a bartender at A.Lure. She got ready - always running late - and I eventually followed her after I packed for the next day's trip.
I spent the next four or so hours seated at the A.Lure bar watching my little girl be a big bartender, making small talk with the patrons, and generally doing a really good job. After a while, Susie and Dick came to join me, and we drank a glass of wine together. They were leaving the next day as well, and we wanted to spend a little more time together.
Eventually, it was time for me to go, and time for them to go, and time for me to prepare to leave Savannah once again. I didn't look forward to my trip home, but I looked forward to being home, even as much as I had enjoyed leaving it some eight days before. Luckily, Susie took some great pictures and I attach some of them here.
My next travel blog entries will be forthcoming, but somewhat different. Stay tuned.
,
Monday, July 23, 2012
Savannah Dan
One of the cool things about Savannah is the plethora of tours available for tourists who are interested in history, or "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil" (I know novels are supposed to be underlines or italicized, but my computer is being weird today), the novel by John Berendt (published in 1994), or in old cemeteries. We had taken a tour with Gary and Susan during our March trip when we had found a half price Groupon (coupons available in most cities for entertainment, restaurants, and services) and bought it. While we had a really good time on that particular tour, as we were walking about, we saw another tour group walking with a man in a white straw Panama hat and a light seersucker suit. He looked interesting. I decided that we would take another tour with Dick and Susie, and so I scoured the travel brochures at our hotel until I found the one that had the picture of the guy in seersucker: Savannah Dan!
We made our reservations for Monday, and made preparations to meet him at 10 a.m. on Johnson Square. Right away, I knew that this had been a good decision. Savanah Dan is knowledgeable, humorous, and loves not only Savannah history, but history in general. We walked around town with him and listened to tales about Savannah's squares, historical houses, legends, and founding fathers, as well as Forrest Gump, which was partially filmed in Savannah. The only thing that Savannah Dan did not know, and he really couldn't know, because he is much too young, is that long ago, the peanut butter sandwich cookies sold by Girls Scouts were named Savannahs - probably because the founder of the Girl Scouts, Juliette Gordon Low, was from Savannah. I cannot rate this tour too highly, and I advise those visiting Savannah find Savannah Dan and take his tours. For those who do not want to walk, he offers a carriage tour as well.
The most important tip Savannah Dan gave us was to go to Leopold's (already went) and order the Savannah Dan chocolate malt. This concoction is made with chocolate ice cream, chocolate milk, chocolate syrup, and malt. Max went out on a limb right before he left and ordered one, and I have to tell you that it is worth the million thousand calories it certainly must contain.
Mr. Dan also told us about "sock monsters," somewhat like the monkeys of the same name, only monsters. These are unique children's toys constructed from socks, stuffing, and clever appliques representing eyes, nose, mouth, and so on. These monsters are created by a former SCAD student, and are sold only at a design shop on Broughton (the main shopping drag in downtown Savannah): 24e (located at 24 East Broughton). These things are darling, and I bought two for my favorite two children, who shall remain nameless at this time. I don't want their parents to spoil the surprise.
Susie and Dick struck out on their own, and Emily, Max, and I had some down time at her apartment, discussing the upcoming year and her plans to get a job - you know, the real life stuff that gets in the way of all the fun we used to have! She had some feelers out, and was unsure of what would come her way, but it was good family time. For dinner, we went to Circa 1875, a little French bistro that is one of my favorite places to eat. The food is not the best food that I have ever eaten, but it is good. The wine list is full of French wines, the decor is lovely and French without being kitschy, and the atmosphere is delightful. It is just a fun place to go, and that night was no exception. Emily always has the duck confit cassoulet, and for once, I did not share it with her. Max always has the lamb shank, and I usually have what is left over. It was a great place to go on our last night together for a while in a great town.
Max was to leave the next day, and Emily and I were going to spend two more days on our own before I headed back to Sedville.
Savannah Dan - $15/person, one tour daily except Sundays during the summer, two tours daily except Sunday all the rest of the time. You can reach him to make reservations at www.savannahdan.com.
Next: Mother/daughter time
We made our reservations for Monday, and made preparations to meet him at 10 a.m. on Johnson Square. Right away, I knew that this had been a good decision. Savanah Dan is knowledgeable, humorous, and loves not only Savannah history, but history in general. We walked around town with him and listened to tales about Savannah's squares, historical houses, legends, and founding fathers, as well as Forrest Gump, which was partially filmed in Savannah. The only thing that Savannah Dan did not know, and he really couldn't know, because he is much too young, is that long ago, the peanut butter sandwich cookies sold by Girls Scouts were named Savannahs - probably because the founder of the Girl Scouts, Juliette Gordon Low, was from Savannah. I cannot rate this tour too highly, and I advise those visiting Savannah find Savannah Dan and take his tours. For those who do not want to walk, he offers a carriage tour as well.
The most important tip Savannah Dan gave us was to go to Leopold's (already went) and order the Savannah Dan chocolate malt. This concoction is made with chocolate ice cream, chocolate milk, chocolate syrup, and malt. Max went out on a limb right before he left and ordered one, and I have to tell you that it is worth the million thousand calories it certainly must contain.
Mr. Dan also told us about "sock monsters," somewhat like the monkeys of the same name, only monsters. These are unique children's toys constructed from socks, stuffing, and clever appliques representing eyes, nose, mouth, and so on. These monsters are created by a former SCAD student, and are sold only at a design shop on Broughton (the main shopping drag in downtown Savannah): 24e (located at 24 East Broughton). These things are darling, and I bought two for my favorite two children, who shall remain nameless at this time. I don't want their parents to spoil the surprise.
Susie and Dick struck out on their own, and Emily, Max, and I had some down time at her apartment, discussing the upcoming year and her plans to get a job - you know, the real life stuff that gets in the way of all the fun we used to have! She had some feelers out, and was unsure of what would come her way, but it was good family time. For dinner, we went to Circa 1875, a little French bistro that is one of my favorite places to eat. The food is not the best food that I have ever eaten, but it is good. The wine list is full of French wines, the decor is lovely and French without being kitschy, and the atmosphere is delightful. It is just a fun place to go, and that night was no exception. Emily always has the duck confit cassoulet, and for once, I did not share it with her. Max always has the lamb shank, and I usually have what is left over. It was a great place to go on our last night together for a while in a great town.
Max was to leave the next day, and Emily and I were going to spend two more days on our own before I headed back to Sedville.
Savannah Dan - $15/person, one tour daily except Sundays during the summer, two tours daily except Sunday all the rest of the time. You can reach him to make reservations at www.savannahdan.com.
Next: Mother/daughter time
Thursday, July 19, 2012
A Day at the Beach - Savannah
One of the joys of visiting Savannah is going to Tybee Island. Before we went with Emily to preview SCAD, so long ago, her junior year in high school, we knew nothing of the beach in Savannah. Luckily, however, someone let us in on the well-known secret of Tybee Island, where families spend weeks in the summer, playing in the surf, lying on the beach, eating and drinking at local joints both on the main drag and on the beach, and just generally having fun.
We went that year to Tybee Island and ate at the Crab Shack, which someone told us about. It was November, and not very many people were out, but we were. We drove over, found the beach, found the Crab Shack, and had a great time eating fresh seafood at the only tourist restaurant that serves it NOT fried! It was great. Since that time, we have gone to Tybee Island during every trip to Savannah and loved looking at the water and walking on the beach.
So this time, when we were finishing Emily's education in Savannah, we went over to Tybee Island on Saturday. Our plan was to eat at a place called North Beach, or something like that, and then just enjoy the beach and the water. Our previous visits to the island had been during the week, and were not impeded by a crush of people, so imagine our surprise when we found the beach so crowded that parking spaces at the North Beach place were not to be found! We circled and circled, and finally gave up. Then we headed back to Crab Shack, and, after we ate, we couldn't remember why we were going anywhere else. While parts of the Crab Shack are kitschy and touristy, the food part is really good and really well-priced. And best of all, none of the food is fried. We had you-peel boiled shrimp, crab salad, cole slaw, she-crab soup (which was merely okay), and a "boiled dinner," which is shrimp, potatoes, corn, crab, clams, and other delicacies, cooked together like a stew and then served in a pot. Susie and I had, in honor of Kim, who could not be there, glasses of Kim Crawford Sauvignon Blanc, and Dick and Max had their choice of a plethora of interesting beers.
We spent some time looking at the alligators (yes, really - but they were fat and lazy and in a watery swampy area far down from the quizzical, rubber-necking tourists) and then headed out to the beach, where we spent a lovely couple of hours watching the water encroach on the shore, watching a couple of guys who took para-kiting to a new level, and watching the two love-birds who were so taken with each other that they didn't even notice our smiling at their amorous necking. We also watched a group of incredibly selfish people. How do I know they were selfish? Susie, who is our family historian, asked politely if any of them would take a picture of us together; they all kind of looked at each other, and then kind of shrugged, and then one of them said, "I don't really want to because I would have to get up." I guess the looks on our faces shamed at least one of them, because she, the only one of the group who even really looked in our direction, got grudgingly to her feet and took a snapshot. I was really irritated, and wondered could be important to these people who, when they could help someone, chose to do nothing.
After a while, we headed back over to the mainland, and had some down time. We split up for dinner, Max, Emily, Jeff and I eating dinner at Thai, and Susie and Dick not eating at all! Thai was an okay restaurant, but I can't say that it was much different from any other Asian eatery I have frequented. The food was fine, the wine selection was fine, and the decor was fine. In fact, it was so non-memorable that I had to stop writing and try to remember where we had dinner.
That was our last stop before we all took the Graveyards and Ghosts tour, which was at 10 p.m. The tour was the most disappointing, and the most expensive, part of our trip. Susie and I expected to be taken to some of the old buildings and some of the old cemeteries in the area; instead, we were taken on a trolley tour around some of the old buildings, we looked through the gates into one of the large cemeteries, and we experienced a Disney-like event complete with an actor, theatrical lighting, and visual and sound effects. Please understand that I am a Disney World and Disneyland freak. I LOVE going to those parks, and nothing is more fun than seeing the robotic Abraham Lincoln and the Pirates of the Caribbean and It's a Small World, along with everything else animatronic, but I was not expecting that kind of entertainment in Savannah, Georgia, which is rich in real history and legendary ghosts, and needs no animatronic enhancement.
ANYWAY! We separated that night determined to sleep late the next day, and then strike out on our own. Mother and Don were leaving the next morning, and we decided to simply hang out until dinner time, when we would meet Dick and Susie at the only deserving chain restaurant in town: Bonefish Grill. If you have not tried Bonefish, please do so. The food is good, it is reasonably priced, it is fresh, and the restaurant has nightly specials and a wine list with something for about everyone. In Kansas City, Bonefish is located in both Olathe and up by the airport. In Memphis, it is somewhere south of the city, in a really Yuppie part of town; the location is similarly upwardly mobile in Nashville. We were rewarded Sunday night, and Bonefish in Savannah showed its best side. It was good to take a break from the bustle of being a tourist, and it was good to sit together as a family. Emily was with us, and she enjoyed so much getting to spend time with Susie and Dick. Although we are separated by half a country, it is good to feel close.
The next morning, we finally met Savannah Dan. You will love hearing about him.
We went that year to Tybee Island and ate at the Crab Shack, which someone told us about. It was November, and not very many people were out, but we were. We drove over, found the beach, found the Crab Shack, and had a great time eating fresh seafood at the only tourist restaurant that serves it NOT fried! It was great. Since that time, we have gone to Tybee Island during every trip to Savannah and loved looking at the water and walking on the beach.
So this time, when we were finishing Emily's education in Savannah, we went over to Tybee Island on Saturday. Our plan was to eat at a place called North Beach, or something like that, and then just enjoy the beach and the water. Our previous visits to the island had been during the week, and were not impeded by a crush of people, so imagine our surprise when we found the beach so crowded that parking spaces at the North Beach place were not to be found! We circled and circled, and finally gave up. Then we headed back to Crab Shack, and, after we ate, we couldn't remember why we were going anywhere else. While parts of the Crab Shack are kitschy and touristy, the food part is really good and really well-priced. And best of all, none of the food is fried. We had you-peel boiled shrimp, crab salad, cole slaw, she-crab soup (which was merely okay), and a "boiled dinner," which is shrimp, potatoes, corn, crab, clams, and other delicacies, cooked together like a stew and then served in a pot. Susie and I had, in honor of Kim, who could not be there, glasses of Kim Crawford Sauvignon Blanc, and Dick and Max had their choice of a plethora of interesting beers.
We spent some time looking at the alligators (yes, really - but they were fat and lazy and in a watery swampy area far down from the quizzical, rubber-necking tourists) and then headed out to the beach, where we spent a lovely couple of hours watching the water encroach on the shore, watching a couple of guys who took para-kiting to a new level, and watching the two love-birds who were so taken with each other that they didn't even notice our smiling at their amorous necking. We also watched a group of incredibly selfish people. How do I know they were selfish? Susie, who is our family historian, asked politely if any of them would take a picture of us together; they all kind of looked at each other, and then kind of shrugged, and then one of them said, "I don't really want to because I would have to get up." I guess the looks on our faces shamed at least one of them, because she, the only one of the group who even really looked in our direction, got grudgingly to her feet and took a snapshot. I was really irritated, and wondered could be important to these people who, when they could help someone, chose to do nothing.
After a while, we headed back over to the mainland, and had some down time. We split up for dinner, Max, Emily, Jeff and I eating dinner at Thai, and Susie and Dick not eating at all! Thai was an okay restaurant, but I can't say that it was much different from any other Asian eatery I have frequented. The food was fine, the wine selection was fine, and the decor was fine. In fact, it was so non-memorable that I had to stop writing and try to remember where we had dinner.
That was our last stop before we all took the Graveyards and Ghosts tour, which was at 10 p.m. The tour was the most disappointing, and the most expensive, part of our trip. Susie and I expected to be taken to some of the old buildings and some of the old cemeteries in the area; instead, we were taken on a trolley tour around some of the old buildings, we looked through the gates into one of the large cemeteries, and we experienced a Disney-like event complete with an actor, theatrical lighting, and visual and sound effects. Please understand that I am a Disney World and Disneyland freak. I LOVE going to those parks, and nothing is more fun than seeing the robotic Abraham Lincoln and the Pirates of the Caribbean and It's a Small World, along with everything else animatronic, but I was not expecting that kind of entertainment in Savannah, Georgia, which is rich in real history and legendary ghosts, and needs no animatronic enhancement.
ANYWAY! We separated that night determined to sleep late the next day, and then strike out on our own. Mother and Don were leaving the next morning, and we decided to simply hang out until dinner time, when we would meet Dick and Susie at the only deserving chain restaurant in town: Bonefish Grill. If you have not tried Bonefish, please do so. The food is good, it is reasonably priced, it is fresh, and the restaurant has nightly specials and a wine list with something for about everyone. In Kansas City, Bonefish is located in both Olathe and up by the airport. In Memphis, it is somewhere south of the city, in a really Yuppie part of town; the location is similarly upwardly mobile in Nashville. We were rewarded Sunday night, and Bonefish in Savannah showed its best side. It was good to take a break from the bustle of being a tourist, and it was good to sit together as a family. Emily was with us, and she enjoyed so much getting to spend time with Susie and Dick. Although we are separated by half a country, it is good to feel close.
The next morning, we finally met Savannah Dan. You will love hearing about him.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Papillote and A.Lure
The first full day of our Savannah visit was lovely. I had purchased a carriage tour for Mother and Don, because the walking tour we took back in March was about an hour and a half long, and I thought that would be too long and too hot for both of them. So they got up bright and early and headed out for their tour of the city Emily and I slept in.
We talked with Susie and Dick and agreed to meet up around 12:30 for lunch somewhere; however, my sending Mother and Don on the tour had an unintended effect: they had such a good time that they bought tickets to a trolley tour at noon. We agreed to wait for them to eat lunch, and set about deciding where that should be. Emily suggested Papillote, a little French sidewalk cafe, where she had never been, but where she had heard the food was good. And so we all trooped into a teeny-tiny cafe, where aromas of fresh-baked bread was nothing short of intoxicating. The restaurant sold a wonderful brioche, and offered a soup of the day, as well as sandwiches, salads, and wonder of wonders, French wine! Susie ate butternut squash soup and a salad and pronounced them fabulous. Mother and I split an open-face crab and avocado sandwich on the brioche, and I had a glass of Sauvignon Blanc. Dick ate one whole sandwich himself, and so did Don. Emily ate about half of whatever she ordered, which is why she is a size 0.
Even though we were all full, we headed to what is a Savannah legend: Leopold's ice cream shop. Here is a brief history of Leopold's, which I heard on Paula Deen's show, when she and Leopold's owner were chowing down on a caramel popcorn ice cream concoction - The shop has been in the family for three generations, and the current generation has significant connections to Hollywood, producing movies, and even winning an Academy Award (you can get the details from his web site). The shop itself is decorated in vintage soda shoppe, with movie posters and a projector thrown in. Most important, however, is the ice cream. You can get lunch there, but why? Unless, of course, lunch is a big ice cream sundae or waffle cone. Anyway, we all had ice cream and declared ourselves stuffed - and just four hours before we were to eat dinner at A.Lure, the restaurant where Emily tends bar.
Before going there, though, Emily and I decided to take Mother out for a glass of wine. We had a wonderful time at the top of the Bohemian Hotel, and then went back to our respective hotels to get ready for dinner. By this time, Max was on his way to meet us, and I enjoyed a relaxing hour or so out by the pool at the Sheraton Four Points. When Max finally arrived, it was time to head out to A.Lure for our second wonderful dinner with wonderful family.
A.Lure is an attractive restaurant in an old building somewhat off the beaten path in Savannah - just like many restaurants in the city. It has a cute little bar area - emphasis on "little" - and exposed brick walls throughout the building. It has many hard surfaces, so the area can be kind of loud, as it was the night we were there. We couldn't help it that we had been seated right across from a "girls night out" group - whose laughter and enjoyment became louder and louder as the night went on and the martinis kept coming. Regardless, we enjoyed our meals. Against my better judgment, I chose shrimp and grits, even though I knew at the time that the best shrimp and grits in the world can be found at City Grocery, run by John Currence in Oxford, Mississippi. I was proved right - the best shrimp and grits are still in Oxford, but A.Lure acquitted itself well, regardless, by serving wonderful chicken and waffles. We sat around and talked and laughed and had a wonderful time, until we left around 10 to get ready to go to the beach the next day.
NEXT: Beach, Crab Shack, and Savannah Dan
We talked with Susie and Dick and agreed to meet up around 12:30 for lunch somewhere; however, my sending Mother and Don on the tour had an unintended effect: they had such a good time that they bought tickets to a trolley tour at noon. We agreed to wait for them to eat lunch, and set about deciding where that should be. Emily suggested Papillote, a little French sidewalk cafe, where she had never been, but where she had heard the food was good. And so we all trooped into a teeny-tiny cafe, where aromas of fresh-baked bread was nothing short of intoxicating. The restaurant sold a wonderful brioche, and offered a soup of the day, as well as sandwiches, salads, and wonder of wonders, French wine! Susie ate butternut squash soup and a salad and pronounced them fabulous. Mother and I split an open-face crab and avocado sandwich on the brioche, and I had a glass of Sauvignon Blanc. Dick ate one whole sandwich himself, and so did Don. Emily ate about half of whatever she ordered, which is why she is a size 0.
Even though we were all full, we headed to what is a Savannah legend: Leopold's ice cream shop. Here is a brief history of Leopold's, which I heard on Paula Deen's show, when she and Leopold's owner were chowing down on a caramel popcorn ice cream concoction - The shop has been in the family for three generations, and the current generation has significant connections to Hollywood, producing movies, and even winning an Academy Award (you can get the details from his web site). The shop itself is decorated in vintage soda shoppe, with movie posters and a projector thrown in. Most important, however, is the ice cream. You can get lunch there, but why? Unless, of course, lunch is a big ice cream sundae or waffle cone. Anyway, we all had ice cream and declared ourselves stuffed - and just four hours before we were to eat dinner at A.Lure, the restaurant where Emily tends bar.
Before going there, though, Emily and I decided to take Mother out for a glass of wine. We had a wonderful time at the top of the Bohemian Hotel, and then went back to our respective hotels to get ready for dinner. By this time, Max was on his way to meet us, and I enjoyed a relaxing hour or so out by the pool at the Sheraton Four Points. When Max finally arrived, it was time to head out to A.Lure for our second wonderful dinner with wonderful family.
A.Lure is an attractive restaurant in an old building somewhat off the beaten path in Savannah - just like many restaurants in the city. It has a cute little bar area - emphasis on "little" - and exposed brick walls throughout the building. It has many hard surfaces, so the area can be kind of loud, as it was the night we were there. We couldn't help it that we had been seated right across from a "girls night out" group - whose laughter and enjoyment became louder and louder as the night went on and the martinis kept coming. Regardless, we enjoyed our meals. Against my better judgment, I chose shrimp and grits, even though I knew at the time that the best shrimp and grits in the world can be found at City Grocery, run by John Currence in Oxford, Mississippi. I was proved right - the best shrimp and grits are still in Oxford, but A.Lure acquitted itself well, regardless, by serving wonderful chicken and waffles. We sat around and talked and laughed and had a wonderful time, until we left around 10 to get ready to go to the beach the next day.
NEXT: Beach, Crab Shack, and Savannah Dan
Monday, July 2, 2012
Dinner in Savannah
I arrived at Emily's apartment right on schedule at 4:00 on Thursday, about two hours after Mother and Don arrived and two hours before Susie and Dick arrived. Emily made reservations at Sapphire Grill at 8, and then we headed to the airport to meet Susie and Dick and show them to their hotel.
Savannah's little airport is just perfect. It is big enough to get people in and out, but small enough so that nothing is a whole lot of trouble. Parking isn't a problem, renting a car isn't a problem, security isn't a problem, and sitting and waiting isn't a problem because the whole thing looks like a building at the beach and is therefore beautiful. We found Dick and Susie quickly and caught up with each other's lives while they waited for their luggage and picked up the car they had rented. Then we led them to the Hampton Inn where they were staying.
Navigating through Savannah in a car is not nearly as friendly as navigating through the airport. The squares that make Savannah such a lovely city make driving, at least the first time, a challenge. A driver has to circle the square, which is a one way proposition, yielding where necessary, and realizing that streets exist on each side of the square that are not through streets, so turning on short notice and without signaling is common. Emily and I have it down by now, but Dick and Susie were in for a frustrating trip to the restaurant! Emily and her guest Jeff picked up Mother and Don, and I met them at Sapphire in my car. We waited for Dick and Susie, took phone calls from them as they made their way through the city, and ordered wonderful cocktails from the very talented mixologist at Sapphire Grill.
We had been to Sapphire in March with our friends Gary and Susan, when Susan had a blackberry martini (muddled berries in the glass, which was rimmed with sugar), I had a Mai Tai (just the right mixture of slightly sweet and rummy), and Emily had a French 75 (Champagne and gin). This time, Emily had another French 75, Jeff had a Mai Tai, and whatever I had, I don't remember because I was trying to make sure everyone was having a good time. After all, Jeff was meeting a bunch of Emily's family at once, and I wanted to make sure we sounded normal. During our meal, however, I do remember that the mixologist sent over, splayed with seven straws (!), a Gin Mule, which is like a Moscow Mule (vodka and ginger beer), except using gin, which I usually do not like. This drink was really good, and I drank my share.
Our food was also exceptionally good. The Sapphire Grill has two menus: one is a traditional menu that a diner would find at any restaurant; the second is a la carte, including the diner's choosing an entree and sauce, as well as any other dishes he or she would like. For instance, Emily chose diver scallops with white truffle butter sauce and a mushroom sauce. I ordered salmon from the traditional menu. Both were fabulous. In fact, everyone raved about the food, not much of which was left on the table. Unbelievably to those of us from the Midwest, Jeff ordered a steak instead of seafood. I guess those who hail from Florida aren't as enamored with fresh seafood as those of us who are landlocked.
We didn't leave the restaurant until after 10, and we all got home just fine. The next day was looming large, and we were going to spend some time downtown. I had reserved a carriage tour for Mother and Don, who are early risers, and then we were all going to go out for lunch somewhere. That meant that the rest of us would sleep late! What a treat!
So, when in Savannah, eat at Sapphire Grill and order a specialty cocktail. The food is good and the drinks are good; be prepared to pay for the good stuff, though. This is not an inexpensive restaurant. It is located next to The Lady and Sons, famous, of course, because of its famous owner. See an earlier post regarding Paula Deen, the queen of southern.
Next: Papillote, Leopold's, and A.Lure. And Savannah Dan!
Savannah's little airport is just perfect. It is big enough to get people in and out, but small enough so that nothing is a whole lot of trouble. Parking isn't a problem, renting a car isn't a problem, security isn't a problem, and sitting and waiting isn't a problem because the whole thing looks like a building at the beach and is therefore beautiful. We found Dick and Susie quickly and caught up with each other's lives while they waited for their luggage and picked up the car they had rented. Then we led them to the Hampton Inn where they were staying.
Navigating through Savannah in a car is not nearly as friendly as navigating through the airport. The squares that make Savannah such a lovely city make driving, at least the first time, a challenge. A driver has to circle the square, which is a one way proposition, yielding where necessary, and realizing that streets exist on each side of the square that are not through streets, so turning on short notice and without signaling is common. Emily and I have it down by now, but Dick and Susie were in for a frustrating trip to the restaurant! Emily and her guest Jeff picked up Mother and Don, and I met them at Sapphire in my car. We waited for Dick and Susie, took phone calls from them as they made their way through the city, and ordered wonderful cocktails from the very talented mixologist at Sapphire Grill.
We had been to Sapphire in March with our friends Gary and Susan, when Susan had a blackberry martini (muddled berries in the glass, which was rimmed with sugar), I had a Mai Tai (just the right mixture of slightly sweet and rummy), and Emily had a French 75 (Champagne and gin). This time, Emily had another French 75, Jeff had a Mai Tai, and whatever I had, I don't remember because I was trying to make sure everyone was having a good time. After all, Jeff was meeting a bunch of Emily's family at once, and I wanted to make sure we sounded normal. During our meal, however, I do remember that the mixologist sent over, splayed with seven straws (!), a Gin Mule, which is like a Moscow Mule (vodka and ginger beer), except using gin, which I usually do not like. This drink was really good, and I drank my share.
Our food was also exceptionally good. The Sapphire Grill has two menus: one is a traditional menu that a diner would find at any restaurant; the second is a la carte, including the diner's choosing an entree and sauce, as well as any other dishes he or she would like. For instance, Emily chose diver scallops with white truffle butter sauce and a mushroom sauce. I ordered salmon from the traditional menu. Both were fabulous. In fact, everyone raved about the food, not much of which was left on the table. Unbelievably to those of us from the Midwest, Jeff ordered a steak instead of seafood. I guess those who hail from Florida aren't as enamored with fresh seafood as those of us who are landlocked.
We didn't leave the restaurant until after 10, and we all got home just fine. The next day was looming large, and we were going to spend some time downtown. I had reserved a carriage tour for Mother and Don, who are early risers, and then we were all going to go out for lunch somewhere. That meant that the rest of us would sleep late! What a treat!
So, when in Savannah, eat at Sapphire Grill and order a specialty cocktail. The food is good and the drinks are good; be prepared to pay for the good stuff, though. This is not an inexpensive restaurant. It is located next to The Lady and Sons, famous, of course, because of its famous owner. See an earlier post regarding Paula Deen, the queen of southern.
Next: Papillote, Leopold's, and A.Lure. And Savannah Dan!
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