Southern hospitality

Shame on you, Colonel Sanders. I can’t believe I’ve made it this far in life without knowing what fried chicken is really supposed to taste like.

I just wanted to pop in to say I’m down south for a wedding weekend, so am finding it difficult to post new recipes I’m making, as I’m mostly just gorging myself at restaurants. 

Since arriving in Franklin, Tennessee I have:

  • Eaten the most crispy, delicious, perfectly brown fried chicken ever, with mashed potatoes, green beans, and a jalapeño corn cake. 
  • Finally learned what a fried green tomato tastes like (I think I’ll stick to ripe ones)
  • Listened to live blue grass music at the local grocery-cum-restaurant-cum-music venue (cum movie set??)
  • Starred as an extra in a box office hit coming to theaters near you in spring 2015
  • Had an entire 1890s mansion to myself (as the sole guest at the Inn on Franklin Square)
  • Breakfasted on biscuits and gravy and hot tea (to ward off the cold I have coming on… ugh)

And I’ve only been here a little over 12 hours!

I’ve never been anywhere in the South before; like many places I visit, I think I could move here. This town is almost impossibly picturesque (it’s been voted top 10 small towns in America, so I guess I’m not the only one who thinks so). It is full of Nashville-escapees, antique hunters, and local residents with that trademark Southern hospitality. Main street is lined with shops and dining options, a historic theatre and town square, the old courthouse and places with names like “Cork & Cow” and  “Wessex & Rye”  (The kicker: there’s even an Anthropologie!)

I’m off to explore the shops and drive the historic Natchez Trace Parkway, glimpse a few antebellum facades, and head off to Alabama for a big-fat-Indian-wedding extravaganza!

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