NASHVILLE FINDS ITS GROOVE
by John Mariani

    If you’ve never thought of Nashville as among America’s 25 greatest cities, I used to agree.
    True, it’s called Music City USA, but a lot of that was hype, with more country music stars living in L.A. and playing Vegas and the Iowa State Fair than the Grand Old Opry.

     But with two successive progressive mayors, Nashville has emerged as one of the most dynamic cities in the U.S. right now, and, when they get the new convention center built, the city promises to become the biggest corporate draw in the South.  The Parthenon (above) has never shone more brightly, the Titans are playing solid, and the highest price for a ticket is just $85 (compared with an average price for a Giants game at $110).

     Most important, the city has begun to capitalize on its Music City heritage. Maybe it has something to do with the flood last year that put the Grand Old Opry under water, rallying the country stars who stored their instruments there.  The big names—Brad Paisley, Martina McBride, Keith Urban, Vince Gill, Miranda Lambert, Alison Krauss, and plenty more—are playing regularly in town. Broadway, once a risky street to walk down after 9 PM, is now booming with restaurants and music venues where the next big stars might be found trying out their repertoire.

      Here are a whole bunch of reasons you want to get to Nashville right now.

Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum—Since its grand opening in 2001, the CMHFM has evolved into the most exhaustive and well-mounted music museums in the country—more exciting and enticing than Seattle and Cleveland’s Rock and Roll Halls of Fame put together. Archives, videos, and special exhibits cover two centuries of American country music, from Jimmie Rodgers “the Singing Brakeman” to Doc Watson, from the Everly Brothers to Charley Pride. Just to view such a collection of mint vintage guitars and memorabilia—including Les Paul’s 1941 “electric log” and Hank Williams’ Martin D-28--and 600 instruments is reason enough to visit.
    Then there’s the vital oral history project, the moving image and recorded sound collection of 200,000 recordings, and 800 stage costumes, from Dolly Parton’s sequins to Nudie Cohen’s spangly get-ups for Porter Wagoner.  It’s worth the admission price just to gawk at Elvis’ "Solid Gold" Cadillac with its own 45rpm record player, refrigerator, cocktail dispenser, electric shoe buffer, and six 24k gold plated records attached to the ceiling.

Studio B—An adjunct tour of the CMHFM is to bus over to the historic Studio B, founded by Chet Atkins, where he created revolutionized music with the “Nashville Sound” of background vocals and strings for every artist from Roy Orbison and Jim Reeves to Johnny Cash, the Everly Brothers and Conway Twitty; Presley recorded 150 records here, often in the wee hours of the morning.       Opened in 1957 at a modest cost of $37,515, Studio B is both crucible and shrine, left just as it was when it closed in the mid-1970s, the old tape decks and sound buffers still in place, the big Hammond organ there and silver Shure 555 microphones whose sound quality has never been matched. And you can still see the dent in the building where a very nervous young singer named Dolly Parton, on her way to record her first record here, jumped a curb and smashed into the outside wall.

The Hermitage Hotel— I first visited The Hermitage back in 1977 while driving across America, and while I admired the crestfallen hotel's historic nature, it was decrepit almost beyond repair and slated for demolition.  The fellow who seemed to be the hotel's only staff member showed us around the once majestic, pillared lobby and mezzanine whose grand staircase was said to be the inspiration for the one Rhett Butler carried up Scarlett O'Hara in the film "Gone with the Wind," and there used to be indoor pools filled, for some reason, with alligators. He also told us, sotto voce, the place had. . . ghosts. We spend one night there.

    Saved by developers, the hotel last year celebrated its centennial, and The Hermitage has been restored, at a cost of $17 million, to a magnificence no other landmark hotel in America can currently claim, bringing its Siena marble entrance hall and stained glass lobby ceiling into pristine focus once again. The wonderful Oak Bar is still intact, where you can sip a custom-made single barrel Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Whiskey made for the hotel, until the supply runs out, as is the Capitol Grille, a subterranean dining room (not associated with the Capital Grille steakhouse chain), where Chef Tyler Brown proves himself one of the best in the South.  It was here in 1940 a Tennessee newcomer named Dinah Shore debuted the song “Near You.”  And everyone needs to pay a visit to America’s finest Men’s Room (right), an art deco marvel of green and black tiles—once in danger of being demolished. Women are allowed to sneak a peak too.
    The rooms are beautifully done over in vibrant colors, with as many references to the Old South as to every modern amenity, and, with the number of rooms reduced to 121 from 250, each 550-650 square feet in size (The Presidential Suite is 2,000 square feet) spaciousness is a hallmark of The Hermitage.  There are a few alligator sculptures around the balustrades.  It is Nashville's finest hotel by a very long shot, so celebrities, not a few from the country music scene, always stay here.
    If any chef in America can truly claim to serve the much abused term "farm to table cuisine," it's  the mustachioed Chef Brown, at The Capitol Grille (below), who daily cultivates a 66-acre Glen Leven farm a few miles away, now with its own herd of steers, and whatever is ready will be served on his menus that night.  Thus, a simple summer salad can remind you what ultimate freshness means, served with a  buttermilk-onion vinaigrette.  His gazpacho's tomatoes are so sweet you'll remember that tomatoes are actually fruits, not vegetables, and his sweet onion bisque with Brie grilled cheese, bacon and chives is a meal on its own.   
    For starters there is also Brunswick stew of pulled pork, an old country item accompanied by cornbread, lima beans and corn, each with its own perfect texture. For seafood he keeps to Southern principles, serving grouper in a cucumber broth, with butterbean chow chow and benne seed rice pilaf. For meats, by all means go with his Hunter's Plate charcuterie platter, or maybe the hefty beef summer sausage with "Peaches and Cream" creamed cor, braised greens and sauerkraut.  He has daily blue plate specials ranging from meatloaf with mashed potatoes to chicken and dumplings, and I was lucky enough on a Wednesday to score his fried chicken with mashed potatoes, braised greens and gravy.  The rendering of this Southern favorite was fine enough, but the chicken itself, of good pedigree, had terrific flavor all on its own that added a touch of refinement.  Chef de cuisine Cole Ellis clearly pays a big part of the success in all these dishes.
    For dessert, how does one choose among coconut cake with cream cheese buttercream, blueberry anglaise and yuzu anglaise, a Jack Daniels-laced semifreddo with sweet-salty brownie and whiskey butterscotch sauce, and a warm summer berry pie with almond cream and buttermilk ice cream?
    The Capitol Grille keeps a solid wine list, and its prices fort everything are very reasonable. 

The Capitol Grille is open for breakfast, lunch and dinner daily. Starters run $8-$13, main courses $22-$38.

Hatch Show Print--316 Broadway; 615-256-2805. Since 1879 this print shop has been designing the totemic posters for music entertainers and events, including just about every poster hung in the Ryman Auditorium over the last century.  Cab Calloway, Earl Scruggs, Willie Nelson, Patsy Cline, Neil Young, Bob Dylan—all have had Hatch make their posters, and visiting the place is to see the array, the ancient typographic wooden fonts, and the printing presses that are part of American graphic history. You can have one made up for yourself, and they do wedding invitations, too.

Gruhn's Guitars--Anyone who plays and loves stringed instruments knows about Gruhn's--3,000-square feet of walls hung with acoustic and electric guitars and basses, mandolins, and banjos of every style, model, and provenance, each of which a staff member will happily pull down for you to play. Ever craved a classic Gibson J-200 Hummingbird? A 1950s Fender Strat? A 1945 Martin dreadnought?  They are all likely to pass through Gruhn's, as does every picker of note who comes to town. 

Arnold’s Country Kitchen—605 Eighth Avenue; 615-256-4455. The “meat-and-three” is a favorite Tennessee tradition of serving a portion of meat with three vegetables on a plate, and at Arnold’s, now three decades old, you won’t know where to start as you slide your tray along the cafeteria-style counter. Maybe the fried chicken with spinach, mashed potatoes and gravy, and red beans.  Or maybe the sliced pork with green beans, okra, and fried green tomatoes. Then there are desserts from apple pie to Dixie banana pie.  You'll undoubtedly get a ringing "Enjoy it" or "God bless you" from the staff behind the counter.  Bring it all to your table, sit down with some locals—who range from banking execs and athletes to truckers and construction workers—sip some pre-sweetened iced tea poured from a pitcher, and check out the autographed photos on the walls.  And bring at least, oh I don't know, ten dollars?

Prince’s Hot Chicken—123 Ewing Drive; 615-226-9442. Plenty of Nashvillians admit to being addicted to Prince’s Hot Chicken and others will drive a hundred miles to get it.  More than one couple has wolfed it down then got shagged outside in their cars.  If you’ve never been to Prince’s, think real hard before going straight for the “very hot” (the “mild” is hotter than most you’ve ever had and “hot” is incendiary on the palate), because you’re going to have a major mouth burn, tears dribbling out of your eyes, a runny nose, and a face as red as the cayenne pepper doused onto this crunchy, juicy fried chicken. (This is a very serious commitment to your digestion.) As owner Andrée (left) tells it, her uncle was a womanizer who came home way too late. One night, asked his ladyfriend for something to eat, so she tried to punish him by making his chicken so hot that he’d learn a lesson.  Except the guy loved it, served it to his friends, and Prince’s Hot Chicken was born. 

Jack's Bar-B-Que--What Arnold's is to meat-and-threes and Prince's is to chicken, Jack's is to Southern pork barbecue, a no frills place with a few booths and tables, an open kitchen where you order and pick up, and a few good cold beers. The menu has some breadth and depth, but you can't miss with Jack's pulled pork sandwich or the delectably tender ribs, which have a typical Tennessee sauce base of vinegar/tomato sweetness and a lovely char on the outside, not too smokey. The side dishes themselves are worth dropping by Jack's--cole slaw, mac-and-cheese, corn, beans, and don't forget to order a good slice of buttermilk chess pie.  Jack's front door is on Broadway, where a lot of the night action is these days in Nashville, but if you want to feel like an insider, consider ducking around back into the alley that separates the stage door of the famous Ryman Auditorium (a country music shrine so famous I need not write of it here) from the back door of Jack's, a real convenience for country music stars who want to exit the Ryman and go straight into Jack's for some aprés-theater sustenance.

The Station Inn—People definitely do not come here for the pizza, snacks, and beer, or for the cramped atmosphere, of which there is none, and I wouldn’t want to be inside if a kitchen fire broke out. They do come for the music, especially on Monday nights when fabulous The Time Jumpers appear—a country swing group of Nashville’s finest studio musicians, guys who have recorded with everybody from Reba McEntire and Robert Plant to Norah Jones and Kings of Leon. Their long-time association has made their playing so tight, so pure, and so much damn fun that a professional musician I was sitting with turned to his wife and said, “Compared to these guys, my group really sucks.”  Oh, I forgot to mention that most Monday nights when he’s in town, the consummate country guitarist and singer Vince Gill (far right) sits in. The finale is always "My Window Faces the South." 
    I’m told everyone in the group gets paid $100 for the gig.

Wildcatter Ranch, TX

     After a hearty meal at the Hashknife in Peadenville, TX, and a stomach full of brisket, ribs and banana pie, we were back on the road heading west to Graham County where the Wildcatter Ranch awaited our arrival. About twenty minutes later we saw the Wildcatter logo and took a sharp left onto the property. Driving slowly up the driveway I caught my first glimpse of a live Texas longhorn grazing in the field. Their horns were at least four feet in either direction and they showcase raw power and strength as their muscles almost burst through their skin. Absolutely gorgeous animals who all huddled gently together under a tree for shade from the bright orange Texas sun.

         When we finally arrived I understood what Brian meant when he said, “Wildcatter is basically on a hill in the middle of nowhere.” The property is an impressive 1,500 acres large and in every direction the Texas frontier spreads as far as the eye can see—even an hawk’s eye. There were rolling green hills divided by the peaceful Brazos River, curved like a snake, and miles of wilderness that require a sign that reads, “Beware of rocks and snakes.”

         That afternoon I sat by the pool and closed my eyes as the bright sun burned down on me and every inch of the property. I learned awfully quickly how strong that Texas sun was, so I packed up my things and headed to my room for some R&R. The ranch’s rooms are as attractive as any in Texas, designed with high cathedral ceilings, stunning views of the frontier landscape, a personal patio, comfortable beds, and a western feel that compliments its natural surroundings.

         That evening I walked over to the Wildcatter Steakhouse where I received a grand welcome from executive chef Bob Bratcher and a pint of Shiner Bock beer straight from the tap. Bob is a true cowboy, complete with hat, boots, denim jeans and a voice full of Texas twang. He’s a proud Lone Star Stater and has a winning, attractive personality. He’s always smiling, gets excited at the thought of food and loves to talk. Bob is a humble man whose culinary skills far exceed his modest story telling of how he became a cook. This man knows his way around the kitchen and is a master behind the grill. Beef is his specialty and steak is what we ate for two days straight.

         After another drink and some great conversation we sat down and started our feast with some homemade chili con queso made with beef tenderloin, tennis-ball sized crab cakes, some “Texas toothpicks” (fried jalapeno and onion strips), and a few “snake bites,” Bob’s very own baby back ribs. Bob then carved up an entire beef tenderloin for our table and cooked the meat to a beautiful temperature, medium rare. Sides included creamed spinach, sautéed mushrooms and garlic mashed potatoes. Desserts were not the restaurant’s highpoint and could definitely use some improvement. That evening ended back at the bar as we all cheered for the Dallas Mavericks to gain a win over the Miami Heat.

         The following day I walked back over to the Steakhouse where Bob had prepared for us a traditional Texas breakfast, filled with biscuits and white gravy, omelets, homemade pork and beef sausage, creamy grits and a bloody Mary with enough spice to wake up a herd of sleeping longhorns.

         Breakfast was followed by some skeet shooting with the Wildcatter ranchers Jay Brewer and Jeremy Allen, two fine gentleman who toured us through the wilderness by way of ATV accompanied by their adorable assistants, Rancher and Macho. I don’t want to toot my own horn but I am one hell of a good skeet shooter, turning those clay pigeons into dust! Jay and Jeremy also lead horseback riding tours, hikes, canoeing, fishing trips, mountain biking, Frisbee golf tournaments and much more. They are the ones keeping the guests safe and here’s how.

     I was walking past the main house and saw a basketball hoop and so I decided to take a few shots. After my first shot that rattled the backboard, a giant wasp came flying out of nest burrowed underneath the hoop and had me running like a five year old. Jay and Jeremy laughed, came outside and squirted the nest down in less than two seconds with some high power bee killer. Made me realize I was a definitely a New Yorker with little to no backwoods survival skills.

         Back at the steakhouse Bob had the grill torched and a dozen or so burgers searing up nice and juicy. We spent the afternoon gazing out on the horizon with a big fatty burger in one hand and an ice-cold beer in the other. There is a separation from the rest of the world at Wildcatter that I’ve felt only once or twice at other unique destinations around the world. You forget about your cell phone and emails, mostly because the service is lousy, and learn how to kick back and relax. There’s a carefree vibe throughout the property and people tend to mosey just about everywhere.

         The last night I was at Wildcatter, Bob had cooked us up yet another fabulous meal inspired by the grill. It must be noted that the Steakhouse is the only restaurant on property, but who could get sick of eating American beef? Don’t worry, they have other dishes.

That evening was the ever-popular karaoke night. I cannot begin to explain what karaoke is like in West Texas when the Shiner Bock is flowing nicely but I am sure you can imagine. There was a lot of two-stepping and swinging and singing. I was the only gent without a cowboy hat on and possibly the only attendee who didn’t get up on stage. I simply didn’t know the songs. As a whole there wasn’t much potential on stage but there were a few who could’ve put on a show on “America’s Got Talent.” 

         Wildcatter is only 90 minutes west of Dallas and definitely a destination worth the drive. It seemed as thought most guests were from Texas, but such an amazing, upscale resort is worth a flight from anywhere in the US. This September Wildcatter hosts its Lonesome Dove Weekend, so for all you lovers out there, this may be the place for you.
 

 
AND SEND THEM MAPS OF THE WESTERN HEMISPHERE

"To be frank, many Chinese are not familiar with the Bahamas. So when I told my friends I would go to the Bahamas to take the post, they thought I was going to Panama...Because Chinese know Panama well because of its canal, and many Chinese are not familiar with the world-famous scenery here in the Bahamas. So we need to advertise to the Chinese people and let them know more about the beautiful scenery here in the Bahamas." -- Hu Shan, China's new ambassador to the Bahamas.

COME YE BACK TO AMERICA AND
BE WOWED, ANDREW ZIMMERN!

Sparky's Homemade Ice Cream in Columbia, MO, was inspired by the number of  dead 13-year cicadas that emerged last month and thereupon created BUG ice cream made with the cicadas boiled and chocolate coated. Despite good sales, he discontinued the flavor.