how to do atlanta - visit the beltline
Usually, if you want to get to know a city, you visit monuments of its past. But if you really want to get to know Atlanta, you can also take a tour of its future. The Beltline—a multi-year, multi-billion dollar urban renewal effort—is also a symbol of the things Atlantans love most about their town: its historic neighborhoods, urban green spaces, and its legacy of rising from the ashes. Today, the Beltline isn’t much more than 22 miles of abandoned, overgrown rail lines. But enthusiastic tour guides will lead you by bus, bike, or foot on a journey behind the scenes and into the future of the South’s brightest city. Don’t expect pristinely picturesque scenery. Like the future, the beauty of the Beltline is less about what you can see with your eyes, and more about what you can imagine in your mind.
cheers,
k
View other Atlanta travel stories on Trazzler...
v-day poll results and some unconventional v-day events in atlanta
A couple of weeks ago, I polled guys and ladies separately on what sort of gift you'd like most for Valentine's Day. Well, the results are in!
While they weren't all that surprising - women overwhelmingly prefer 'experience gifts' to stuff like flowers and candy (wait, you guys did know that already right?), and men didn't really have a preference - what was surprising is that more women than men responded that they thought Valentine's Day was for suckas, and 10% of the ladies who responded said that they just wanted 'to be left alone'. C'mon girlfriends, it can't be that bad out there... can it?
Whether you're single or seeing someone, here are my picks for some unconventional ways to spend this Valentine's Day in Atlanta.
Witness the Black Man-o-logues - This play by DreamCatcher Productions at the 14th Street Playhouse answers the question, "What runs through the head of a black man when he is confronted with the subject Love?" Shows Saturday and Sunday. For more info: http://www.catchingdreamz.com/
Take a Trip to Jeju Sauna - A spa retreat like you've never experienced before. Just a short trip to Duluth, and you can lose yourself in another world for a whole day. Check out my review of Jeju Sauna on Trazzler.
Celebrate Valloween - A combination Halloween costume party with the sexiness of Valentine's Day for both singles and couples. Because there's "nothing better than playing dress-up to make a depressing holiday more palatable." For more info: http://professionalmuse.net/
Hey Love: Bilal, Foreign Exchange, Jesse Boykins III - Sexy soulfulness takes Center Stage on Friday. Bring your boo or plan on finding one when you get there. Tickets at Mood's Music in Little Five Points and Ticketmaster
Bloom at Lenox Mall - Lauri Stallings, the choreographer behind the 2008 genre-blending production big, that thrust ballet dancers onto the stage with Atlanta's own Big Boi, will be taking dance to another platform this weekend at Lenox Mall. Bloom, the 3rd site-specific art installation from Atlanta-based gloATL, will feature dancers interacting with shoppers in the arteries of the mall. Spoken word artist Big Rube will also perform. It's sure to be a sight! For more info: http://www.fluxprojects.org/bloom/index.html
V-Day Mixology Massacre - If Valentine's day makes you want to kill something... why not make it a cocktail? The Mixology Meetup group is hosting this event at Room at Twelve on W. Peachtree. You'll learn how to make 3 V-day inspired cocktails at your own bar station. Then you can immediately drown yourself in them. For more info: http://www.meetup.com/Mixology-Atlanta/
Make Sweet Chocolate Love at Cacao - If cocktails ain't your thing, how 'bout some chocolate? Make your own chocolate treats and package them up for yourself or a loved one. Might I suggest: chocolate salty balls. Cacao Atlanta in Va-Hi hosts. For more info: http://www.cacaoatlanta.com/events
To El with Valentine's Day - El Taco says, 'be glad you're single", and invites you to celebrate your solo-ness with drink specials (like $4 Hornitos Mischieve tequila shots), special prizes from the Wheel of Taco, and an in-house photo booth and tarot reader on Sunday. Get all the details here.
cheers,
k
photo credit: Sister72
y we remember - current perspectives on the future of black history
The name of the comedian escapes me (Chris Rock maybe?), but there's a standup skit about Black History Month that, unfortunately, is a pretty accurate summation of the Black History curriculum that I and most of my peers received in school:
"Once upon a time there was a thing called slavery. Some time later, Martin Luther King was born...."
While that synopsis of Black History education was grossly exaggerated for comic effect, it still wasn't too far from the truth. Throughout elementary and high school, each February was the time for recounting the familiar narrative: we were once slaves, we were once denied the education and opportunities that other Americans were given, and had it not been for the illustrious leaders of the post-Reconstruction and civil rights era, we might never have made it through. Then we'd sing We Shall Overcome three times, listen to an excerpt of Dr. King's I Have a Dream speech, learn an African dance routine, and return to our regularly scheduled educational programming in March. While I always enjoyed hearing the familiar stories and speeches, I began to notice that, each year, the gap between the era of Black history I was being taught about and the era of Black now I was living in kept growing wider and wider.
It wasn't until I made it to college - where I enrolled in a freshman World History course at Clark Atlanta University - that I got a more comprehensive understanding of how Black and African history figured in the larger context of human history. On the first day of class, the professor walked in, headed straight for the blackboard, picked up a piece of chalk and drew three figures. The first was a straight line. The second was a circle. And the third, a straight line that then arced back upon itself. It was only after he'd finished his drawings that he addressed the class.
"This," he began, pointing to the straight line, "represents the European worldview. Everything is about forward progress." "This," as he motioned to the circle, "represents the Asian worldview. Everything is cyclical and eventually returns to where it began." "And this," referring to the straight-line-arc, "Is the African worldview. Ever moving forward, but always drawing on the lessons of the past." I would later recognize the straight-line-arc being represented in the Adinkra symbol of the Sankofa bird. Sankofa being a word in the Akan language that means 'go back and get it', referring to the idea of taking the wisdom of the past and using it to make progress toward a beneficial future.
It occurs to me that many of us are still celebrating Black History Month the way were taught in elementary school. We recall those icons of the past, laud their praises, recount the stories, and sing the old hymns for 28 days, then it's back to our regularly scheduled lives in March. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying we should stop talking about Malcolm, Martin, and Rosa. But the 'old way' of approaching Black History Month has caused it to lose some of its relevance in the now. We African-American artists, intellectuals, activists, and entrepreneurs are the ones who are creating the history that future generations will look to to help them guide their own progress. And now that we have 'gone back and gotten it'... what do we do with it today?
A couple of my contemporaries have dedicated these 28 days to answering that question in their own ways. One, by spotlighting today's diverse leaders of new media, and the other by issuing a unique call to action for the latest tragedy to hit the Diaspora.
Wayne Sutton, Social Media and Community Strategist at Twine Interactive (an internet marketing firm), has launched 28 Days of Diversity on his blog, www.socialwayne.com. Each day in February, Sutton will highlight an individual who is a leader or influencer in IT, the web, new media, etc. In an industry that has too few brown faces, this is a huge way of exposing those that we might not ever hear about otherwise. Case in point: today's spotlight is on Atlanta-based blogger, video producer, and media consultant, Amani Channel. In addition to being the founder of Visual Eye Media, Amani is also the community manager for PBA's Lens on Atlanta, and in his spare time (yes, that's sarcasm) he blogs at www.myurbanreport.com. Keep an eye on Wayne's blog for more folks you should meet this month.
Bren Herrera, an Atlanta chef and food writer, is rallying the global community of food bloggers, chefs, restaurauteurs, and foodies to raise funds for victims of Haiti's earthquake via Stir It 28. Stir It 28 is a prime example of 21st century community activism, leveraging new media in a 3-part campaign to raise $50,000 within 28 days. 100% of proceeds will be donated directly to Share Our Strength and Yéle. The fundraiser is a multi-city collaboration between Hererra, who blogs at Flanboyant Eats, Chrystal of The Duo Dishes and Courtney of Coco Cooks. Read all about Stir It 28 and how you can participate .
(You'll be hearing more about Stir It 28 from me soon, as I'll definitely be participating!)
cheers,
k
QUICK POLL: what do you want most for valentine's day?
I'm doing some research for a future post, Dear Reader, and I could really use your input.
Valentine's Day is fast approaching, and from my experience, it's a holiday that seems to cause more angst than any other. There's the increased pressure of what to get your beloved, and the heightened expectation of what you'll receive. Then there are those who relish the once-a-year opportunity to vocally denounce love, the commercialization of love, and the love of commercialization. And finally there's that lonely lot - that each year we all secretly hope we're not a member of - of unattached, uninvolved folk who feel compelled to treat V-day as a national day of mourning.
So I thought it'd be interesting to get a pulse on what kind of things people actually want for V-day. I've created two polls - one for the ladies, and one for the gents. When you get a moment, give me your thoughts. I'll share the answers with you before V-day.
Here's the poll for ladies:
alternate link: http://poll.pollcode.com/A8N
And here's one for the guys...
| GUYS: What Kind of V-Day Gift Would You Prefer This Year? | |
| A store-bought gift (e.g., cologne, clothing) | |
| An experience gift (e.g., travel, spa) | |
| A sexual gift | |
| I want to be left alone | |
| What gift? V-day is for suckas! | |
| pollcode.com free polls | |
alternate link: http://poll.pollcode.com/CrYq
cheers,
k
the 2009 NBAF sponsors' luncheon
The 2009 National Black Arts Sponsors Luncheon is the festival’s way of saying thank you to the corporations, NGOs, government agencies, and private individuals who provide that most vital of resources to the arts community – funding.
At this year’s luncheon, the sponsors were given three very special treats. The first was the official changing of the guard for the NBAF’s Executive Producer position. Outgoing Producer Stephanie Hughley was honored as a “22 year veteran of fighting the good fight for the arts” in Atlanta. Hughley will be returning to the Northeast for a second stint at the New Jersey Performing Arts Center. Assuming her role is Neal Barclay, formerly of the August Wilson Center in Pittsburgh, PA.
Here are some clips from the farewell presentation to Stephanie Hughley.
Next up on the luncheon agenda was a candid discussion between US Ambassador and former Atlanta mayor, Andrew Young, and Bernice Johnson Reagon, founder of the Black female a capella group, Sweet Honey in the Rock. The two veterans of the Civil Rights movement shared their wisdom and experiences on topics ranging from music as protest medium to why Atlanta is THE only place where an event such as the NBAF could be born.
Since the luncheon was held at the Atlanta Civic Center, attendees were also given complimentary passes to the America I Am exhibit which will be on location at the Civic Center through September 6.
Lunch was provided by A Legendary Event, an Atlanta-based catering and special events company owned by Tony Conway. The event was planned and coordinated by Judy Hanenkrat, NBAF Special Events.
For a full list of sponsors for the 2009 NBAF, visit: www.nbaf.org/sponsors
************
The NBAF Summer Festival goes from July 29 – August 2, 2009. The 5-day long festival highlights the artistic and cultural contributions of Africans and African-Americans in the US. For a complete schedule of events, visit www.nbaf.org/events. To donate to the festival, visit www.nbaf.org/support.
Behind the Scenes at the NBAF: Rebekah Jones - Production Manager
It’s a little past 8 am on Thursday morning, the second official day of the 2009 National Black Arts Festival. Several of the festival’s staff members are seated at multiple round tables on a lesser-used part of the 5th floor headquarters office. On the other side of the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sun is defiantly beaming through the last of the overnight storm clouds.
The woman with cropped, spiky hair sitting at the head of the group speaks.
“Just so y’all know, we do have a weather fairy, so it’s not going to rain on the festival.”
The woman is Rebekah Jones, who wears the double title of Festival Manager and Production Manager for the NBAF. She acts as Mistress of Ceremonies for this morning’s staff meeting, quickly running down what’s going on at each of the day’s major events and venues, and double-checking to make sure everyone has their marching orders. Since a major part of the festival – the International Marketplace – will be held outside, the topic of the weather comes up again soon, this time with a bit more gravitas.
“The only reason we will shut down is if there’s lightning. Our setups are all graded for up to 40mph winds. If there is lightning, the head of security will make the call to me or Leatrice (NBAF Artistic Programming Director), and we’ll make the decision to pause the festival, and issue ‘seek shelter’ announcements to the crowd.” Before the team disperses, she makes sure everyone has a copy of the Crisis Response Plan for the festival.
When the meeting ends, Rebekah heads back to her office and settles in behind her desk. Within 30 seconds, the small office is filled with 3-4 staff members with last-minute tactical questions for her. After handling the first few questions, she shoots me a look and says, “Time for a cigarette break,” my cue that we’ll have to conduct our one-on-one interview downstairs.
Once there, we begin.
ksolo: So how long have you been with the Black Arts Festival?
RJ: Since 2000. I think. Whatever year Stephanie (Hughley)joined. We’d worked together at another festival, so when she came over here, I thought it would be good to work with her again.
ksolo: For the layperson, what exactly does the co-title Festival Manager / Production Manager mean? What are you responsible for?
RJ: Well, I’m a Project Manager. I work as a PM for several clients, Harley Davidson is one. I’ve been the Production Manager for the Atlanta Civic Center for the past 12 years.
ksolo: Wow, do you sleep?
RJ: (laughs) Sometimes, I can’t believe I get paid to do what I do. I’m about to turn 50, so I figured, ‘Forget it. I’m just gonna do what I love.’
ksolo: With the changes in this year’s festival – the reduced timeline, the central location – has it been an easier project to manage? Or are there some things that are more difficult?
RJ: Well, the coordination has definitely been less cumbersome. There are fewer moving parts. But this year, we’re shutting down a city street for four whole days. And you have to jump through a lot of hoops for that.
In a moment of candor, Rebekah uses a four-letter word to describe the frustration of the hoop-jumping, and asks me to excuse her French. I assure her that I too speak French on occasion.
ksolo: About how many staff and volunteers do you have for this year’s festival?
RJ: With contractors and all, we’ve got over 100 people. And Keith (Hill) has volunteers on a waiting list. We have a great synergy of people, a great team.
ksolo: Do you have a favorite festival memory?
RJ: (pauses to think for a bit) Opening day. Every year. You know, this is the oldest surviving black festival in the country? Which is great, but also sad… since it’s only the 21st year. But it’s huge. It’s such an important event. Last year, we did 273 shows in 10 days. So the number of impressions is just huge. We’re in over 20 spaces this year, between festival events and events that partner with the festival.
ksolo: That’s a pretty impressive reach, especially for a city as spread out as ours.
RJ: Yep. The Dogwood Festival and the National Black Arts Festival are the only 2 festivals remaining in Atlanta that originated in Atlanta. The Atlanta Arts Festival is gone, Montreux is on hold. But we’re not just a local festival. We’re national. People plan their family reunions to coincide with the festival.
ksolo: Wow – that’s a real testament to the impact the festival has.
RJ: Yeah, we couldn’t do it without the people we have working and volunteering. We run up against a problem, and we don’t think, ‘Oh, it can’t happen.’ We think, ‘What has to happen to make it happen?’ You have to remain very fluid.
When the river starts flowing, you can either build a dam, or… you can jump in and swim.
The NBAF Summer Festival goes from July 29 - August 2, 2009. The 5-day long festival highlights the artistic and cultural contributions of Africans and African-Americans in the US. For a complete schedule of events, visit www.nbaf.org/events. To donate to the festival, visit www.nbaf.org/support.
how to do atlanta - ms ann’s snack bar
People – especially Southerners, and especially Southerners in the ‘hood – have a tendency to exaggerate.
Hey, man! You seen Tiny lately? That boy done got big as a house!" "Don’t say?" "Yeah, I saw him last Tuesday and I swear fo’ God you could land a plane on his backside!"
Exaggeration and braggadocio are simply part of the parlance of the South and especially of those well-known Southern ‘hoods like Kirkwood – home of Ms. Ann’s Snack bar and – as the red painted words on the side of the building will tell you - home of the “World famous ghetto burger”. Now, I’m not certain if people in other countries have heard of Ms. Ann or her monstrously sized burgers, but due to a 2007 article in the WSJ, the ghetto burger received national acclaim as the nation’s # 1 burger. ‘Nationally Renowned Ghetto Burger’ doesn’t quite have the same snappy ring to it, plus the shack-sized snack bar probably doesn’t have enough room for all those extra letters, so… world-famous it is. Regardless, both the burger and the woman are famous enough in local circles to have become the stuff of legend, and since rumor has it that Ms. Ann will be hanging up her spatula for good this month (not the 1st time that rumor has surfaced, mind you), I felt it was my duty to pay her a visit before the legend became history.
I approached the screen door of the snack bar with a feeling of trepidation. Ms. Ann’s reputation preceded her, and the image I’d painted of her in my head was somewhere between the Soup Nazi and the Great Oz. I’d heard of her long list of rules prominently posted above the counter, and had been repeatedly warned with tales of what happened to those who dared not follow them – a fate that could range from being yelled at to being thrown out. I couldn’t remember all of the rumored rules, but the ones I did remember seemed simple enough: no talking on cell phones, no cussing, no babies on the lunch counter, the standard no-shirt-no-shoes-no-service, and the most important of all: if there are no seats available at the 8-seat lunch counter, do not come inside.
Unfortunately, when I arrived, the counter was full, but an elderly couple was preparing to leave, so I took a seat on the worn white patio furniture in the snack bar’s ‘waiting area’. On a previous attempted visit, both the counter and the waiting area were full, and the wait was up to 2 hours. Needless to say, I felt lucky to only have a few minutes pass before going inside.
Once there, I claimed one of the open stools at the far end of the counter and took a few moments to soak in the scene. That prominently displayed list of rules, as it turned out, wasn’t so prominent after all. It was mostly obscured by framed photographs of previous diners – local politicians and figures of note – with time-faded signatures and words
of gratitude scribbled in the corners of each. Behind the counter, I spied the legend herself, a cocoa-colored, wiry older woman who was moving rather nimbly between an impossibly small griddle loaded with impossibly large hamburger patties, and a dilapidated fridge stocked to the brim with burger toppings and large plastic jugs of tea, lemonade, and red punch. On the opposite wall of the restaurant was another framed picture, this one larger than the rest – a black-and-white graduation photograph of a young Ms. Ann… smiling. On one of her passes from griddle to fridge, Ms. Ann stopped to chat with a couple and their two young daughters that were seated next to me. During the exchange, the smile appeared again. I was beginning to wonder if I had stumbled into the wrong Ms. Ann’s Snack Bar. Maybe this was a Bizarro Ms. Ann that had no rules and treated customers with a smile instead of a snarl. Just then, she stepped over to take my order.
"What you gon’ have?"
A little more brusque than I would have expected anywhere else, but the tone was really to let me know that if I was going to be one of these indecisive or overly picky customers, she was not going to be the one to indulge me. It was just the reality check I needed to convince me that I was indeed in the right place.
I had originally planned to order the ghetto burger – a monstrous, structurally unsound assembly of two burger patties topped with sautéed onions, chili, bacon, cheese, lettuce, and tomato – but after watching my dining neighbor struggle with his, I decided to opt for a more sensible selection: a cheeseburger, fries, and a lemonade
I’ve always been a fan of watching my food being cooked, it’s about as close as you can get to cooking something yourself, plus it’s an opportunity to see the skill and love that the person preparing your food puts into it. You get a greater sense of appreciation and connection to the end result than you do when your plate of food just magically arrives from somewhere in the back. Once you’ve seen Ms. Ann hand-shape those huge beef patties, slap them on the grill with all of the finesse of a mustachioed Swedish masseuse named Helga, then move back and forth in the narrow cooking space behind the counter with the automated assurance of someone who’s been doing this for 
decades, you will most certainly appreciate the end result when she sets it in front of you. My cheeseburger – topped with sautéed onions, lettuce, and tomato – almost completely filled one Styrofoam plate, while my order of fries - dusted with seasoned salt - filled another. I took my first bite of the world-famous, nationally renowned burger, and found it to be… good. Was it the best burger I’d ever had? Was it, for that matter, better than something I could have made in my own kitchen? Not really. But it was good. Well seasoned, well done, topped with fresh ingredients, and so large that even with my most earnest attempt, I couldn’t possibly finish the whole thing.
In Latin American, Caribbean, and Asian countries, street and neighborhood food vendors are a prominent feature of the dining-out landscape. The personalities of the proprietors are often as much of a draw as the food itself, and those that stay in the game for years usually become larger-than-life personas as a result of the local lore surrounding them. By contrast, the majority of the American dining public has abandoned neighborhood food stands in favor of a more anaesthetized, highly styled eating experience. So the fact that Ms. Ann is still holding her own after 37+ years, and continues to draw crowds of locals and visitors alike, proves that she and her ghetto burger are most definitely legends. No exaggeration required.
cheers,
k
Ann's Snack Bar 1615 Memorial Dr Atlanta, GA 30317 (404) 687-9207
how to do the mayan riviera - tulum
Tulum
About 15 minutes west of Coba, is Tulum. Tulum has a casual, beach-bum sort of vibe, and is home to a large number of small, independently-owned 'eco hotels' situated closely together along a stretch of Tulum's white sand beach. By eco hotel, they mean: no AC, solar- or wind-generated electricity from dusk to dawn only, and simple but comfortable accommodations. Almost all of the hotels along the strip offer some type of massage service, yoga classes, Mexican astrology reading, or energy work. There was even a sexual liberation conference going on at one of the hotels close to ours. When we entered the hotel zone, one of the first things we saw were two girls (obviously not Mexican), hitchhiking for a ride down the road. "Nice," I thought. "I have arrived in Mexican Hippieland".
We had chosen to stay at Sueños Tulum, a 12-room hotel near the south end of the hotel zone in Tulum. Each villa at Sueños is themed after an element of nature: Sol (Sun), Tierra (Earth), Lluvia (Rain), Selva (Jungle), or Luna (Moon). We were in the Selva building, which was a nice treat since the room was decorated with my two favorite colors - yellow and green.
They really took the décor to the next level here. Though I felt sorry for those poor villagers at the bottom of the bowl and all the uh...stuff they have to put up with.
You could literally throw a rock and hit the ocean from the deck outside our room.
When we arrived, we were greeted with our complimentary welcome drink... best margarita I've ever had.
The beach in Playa del Carmen was great, but Tulum was even better. The sand was softer, and the beach itself was wider, and certainly more picturesque. Plus the lounging beds for Sueños guests were so relaxing.
While Sueños has an on-site restaurant, we found their menu to be a bit pricey, so we headed to downtown Tulum for souvenir shopping and dinner. Most of the shops are feeling the pinch of the slim tourist crowds, so even though a lot of the shops offered the same wares, we tried to spread the love around a bit. My favorite store was a little arts boutique called La Joyas de Adelita. Vicente, the owner, sells a variety of high-quality handmade jewelry made of natural stones, and there's a good variety of original artwork - paintings, photography, etc. - from other local artists for sale as well. I got a really nice necklace for my Mom and a small print of a painting by Alejandra Mendoza for myself. The caption translates as, "For the trips you haven't made (yet)".
On our second day in Tulum (and the day before we were to return home) we resolved to pull ourselves out of bump-on-a-log mode and at least make a trip to the Tulum ruins. While there was no swinging from vines, The Mayan ruins of Tulum definitely looked like a scene from an Indiana Jones movie, with its ancient, crumbling stone structures set on a cliff overlooking the electric blue waters of the Caribbean. A beautiful sight, and since it was so hot that even the iguanas were scrambling for shade, we joined the rest of the small crowd frolicking in the waves after we finished our tour. I suppose I could have rappelled my way down to the beach, but I didn't wanna show off, so I just took the stairs.
After the ruins, we spent a couple of margaritas worth of time back at Sueños, before heading off for our sunset massages at the nearby Maya Tulum hotel. They have about 10 masseuses on staff, each of whom has a different set of ninja-massage techniques they specialize in like Reiki, Yoga Thai, and Mayan Sobada or Yoot Keene - a kneading, abdominal massage. It was a perfect wind-down for the day.
The night before, we realized that the lack of AC in our room required us to sleep with the sliding door open to let some air in. On our final night, I decided to kick the au natural sleeping up a notch and took to the hammock outside for the night. With hardly any surrounding ambient light, the stars seemed close enough to touch, and I drifted off to sleep with the strong ocean breeze rocking me like a baby in a swing.
I think either my mother or grandmother or both used to say that if you leave something behind somewhere, it means you really wanted to stay there. While packing for our departure, I discovered that I'd left a pair of flip-flops at La Selva Mariposa. Before we pulled out of Sueños, I had to send the beau dashing back in to retrieve my cell phone that I'd left charging in the reception office. About halfway to Playa del Carmen, I realized that I still had our Sueños room key hanging around my neck, and in the airport duty-free shop, I almost lost my passport when I set it down for a moment while browsing the aisles. It seemed like the schizophrenia had reared its ugly head again. Part of me was all set to return home, while part of me obviously wished I never had to leave.
cheers,
k
how to do the mayan riviera - coba
Coba
Coba is about 40 minutes south of Playa del Carmen - a straight shot down the 4-lane Highway 307 that runs along the Caribbean coast of Mexico, much like I-95 runs along the coast of Florida. It was an easy drive on well-paved, uncrowded roads, but the speed limit signs were a bit of an oddity, going from 100 km/hr to 40 and back to 100 within the span of a ½ mile. Plus, there were several 'topes' or speed-bumps in what seemed to be totally random spots in the road, but other than that, the drive was non-eventful.
Coba is to the east of Tulum, so it's set in more of a 'jungle' setting. I put quotes around the word jungle because when I think jungle, I think lush, dense tropical foliage and a variety of flora and fauna. The jungle setting of Coba is drier, and more hardscrabble, but considering the rainy season is just about to start, I suppose that should be expected. We'd originally planned to only stay in 2 places, but when I saw the pictures and reviews for La Selva Mariposa during my pre-trip research, I did not want to pass up the opportunity for a visit.
La Selva Mariposa (The Jungle Butterfly) is a bed and breakfast owned by Moe and Lou Pintkowski, an expat American couple from Colorado. To say that the place is beautiful sounds almost trite. La Selva Mariposa is, quite literally, an oasis in the desert. There are only 4 guest rooms on the 2.5 acre property, and each room has been crafted to blend in seamlessly with the surrounding natural environment. The walls are made of local stone and plaster, the roof is in the traditional thatched-palm palapa style, there's a Mayan temazcal or steam bath onsite, and just off to the side of each room is a small cenote-inspired pool with cool, clear water cascading over rugged stones. Natural and opulent have never blended so perfectly together. Our room even had an open-air shower...bliss!
In desperate need of rejuvenation, we spent the entire time at La Selva right at our room, lounging on the hammock on the porch, taking a quick dip in the pool, and eventually falling asleep to the sound of falling water and mating frogs on the other side of the screened door.
The next morning, Moe made us a delicious breakfast of yogurt, granola, fresh fruit and scrambled egg tostadas with cotija cheese and a slew of toppings. I don't even like scrambled eggs, but I ate it all. Ok, I ate it... most. After breakfast, there was more heavy lounging and a half-hearted discussion on which adventurous excursion we might try to make before leaving Coba, but in the end we concluded that making our way to the beach in Tulum would be adventure enough.
We set out early in the afternoon for our third destination. With all that talk of adventure, we had worked up an appetite, so when we spied the neighborhood 'grilled chicken guy' out on the road with his grill at full blaze, we decided to stop for lunch.
Don't know if you can tell from this picture, but Gaspar the Gallo Griller also has a full grill in his mouth. The chicken business is obviously doing well.
how to do the mayan riviera - playa del carmen
When it comes to defining the perfect vacation, I admit I'm a bit schizophrenic on the issue.
Part of me wants to flex my Indiana Jones muscles and swing from jungle vines, jump off cliffs and trek through virgin forests. Part of me wants to submerge myself in all the indulgences that I usually only dip my toe in, and still another part wants to make like a bump on a log and do nothing more than watch the world go by before my half-lidded eyes.
Strangely enough, none of me has ever expressed the desire to head for a place that's been designated ground zero for a possible pandemic, but that didn't stop me or the beau from boarding our flight to Mexico for my birthday trip. You see, we well-raised Southerners don't just abandon our neighbors when they're sick. No siree. What we do is pack up a bowl of homemade chicken soup and bring it right to them. So we boarded our flight with a heaping serving of optimism tucked into our carry-ons to share with our neighbor to the South.
Playa del Carmen
Our first stop on the 6-day trip was Playa del Carmen. About 40 minutes south of the airport in Cancun, Playa is sort of like the Virginia Highlands to Cancun's Buckhead. Where Cancun is known for its non-stop frat-boy party atmosphere, Playa del Carmen attracts a more laid-back, bohemian crowd. At the south end of Playa del Carmen is a gated beachfront community known as Playacar, which includes several vacation rentals and all-inclusive resort properties. We were booked to stay 2 nights at the all-inclusive Riu Tequila in Playacar, but after pulling up to the first Riu property - Riu Yucatan - and asking the security guard, "Donde esta Riu Tequila?" I got, "Esta cerrado". Er? Cerrado? I gave the guard my 'whatchu talkin' 'bout Luis?' look, and he directed me to the front desk for a full explanation in English.
As it turned out, of the 5 Riu properties located in Playacar, only the Riu Yucatan was not 'cerrado' and everyone who had reservations at the other resorts had been consolidated into one. Even then, the property was probably only at about 60% capacity. Apparently, not everyone shared our optimism about the flu scare. Fortunately though, the change was a bit of an upgrade, since the Riu Yucatan was located directly on the beach.
After settling into our room, indulgent me began to get restless at the thought that an endless supply of free liquor was only steps away, so we made a beeline to the poolside bar. Before the end of our second drinks (note: at an all-inclusive, time is measured in number of drinks consumed), we met and made fast friends with Jen and Rico, a couple visiting from Dallas. Jen and I hit it off when we quickly learned that we were both Geminis, and shared similar tastes in music.
The next day and a half at the Riu was a pleasantly muddled blur of dips in the ocean, visiting the bar, sunning on the beach, visiting the bar, eating, visiting the bar, napping, and visiting the bar. For some reason, I even forgot my camera in the room a couple of times. Must have been the sun. I was still able to get in a few shots around the resort though...
... I also learned that the proper way to kill 'la cucaracha' is to light it on fire and slurp it down with a straw.
But most importantly, I learned that sometimes you just gotta know when to say 'when'.
The guy in the photos above is actually a trained professional. He's from Belgium. I hear they start drinking in kindergarten there.
On our last day in Playa, we decided to give the Riu's so-so buffet a break. We headed out with Jen and Rico to La Floresta, a restaurant recommended by one of the Riu resort staff who lived in Playa. La 
Floresta is well-known in the area for its seafood tacos. In fact, there's not much more on the menu. There's a choice of crab, shrimp, fish, or marlin taco, plus ceviche and 'cocteles' and beer. Rico is Mexican-American, and speaks fluent Spanish, so he quickly informed our waiter that we would be having one of everything. In less than 5 minutes, a slew of the tastiest, freshest seafood tacos began arriving at our table, followed by unbelievably large servings of mixed seafood ceviche and a large mixed seafood coctel - which included shrimp, octopus, scallops, and oysters in a sweet-tangy tomato based sauce. I'm actually getting kind of sad writing this, as it seems so very, very unfair that I have never experienced anything quite like that meal before, and will probably have to go back to Mexico to experience it again. Everything was very simply prepared so the freshness of every ingredient from the soft corn tortilla to the seafood that tasted like it had just swum onto the plate, was highlighted. I added nothing to the tacos other than a few drops of the 'sweet-jesus-that's-hot' green habanero sauce on the table. When la cuenta arrived, I was surprised to see that our whole meal came to $50 USD. Yep - 2 orders of ceviche, 1 large coctel, 8 tacos, chips and salsa, and beer... for about $12 per person. Sigh.
After lunch, we did a little shopping in the pedestrian-only area of Playa del Carmen, before bidding Jen and Rico goodbye and heading south to our second destination, Coba.
After the all-inclusive bingefest, I was glad to be heading for a more rural setting.
how to do atlanta - where to find the best fries in atlanta
I know I shouldn't love them as much as I do, but...I do. I mean some people like french fries, but I truly love them. You know, kinda like an addict truly loves crack. Ask any friend of mine who's made the unwise decision to reach for a couple of fries from my plate. Let's just say, no one has ever done it more than once.
This weekend, I happened across Meredith Ford's latest list of the 5 best fries in Atlanta. Of course, being the fry fiend that I am, I made a mental note to check out a couple of the places on her list whose fried taters I haven't yet sampled (Shaun's and Porter Beer Bar), but there were others that I was surprised made the cut (Steak and Shake? really?). After reading, it inspired me to pen my own list of Atlanta restaurants with the best fries.
Check 'em out and let me know if there's some other places you know of in the city where I should be fueling my addiction.
5. Five Guys Burgers and Fries
Something about the whole Five Guys fry experience is just, well...dirty. But that's part of what makes them so good. Oh you're just gonna throw the fries into a little styrofoam cup? How delightfully low-brow! Grease stains on the bag? But someone might see...oh hell, I don't care. Give 'em to me, give them all to me! Let them spill over the cup into the bag. Let the cajun seasoning stick to my fingers so I have to lick it off. And when I'm done devouring them like I have absolutely no home training, hand me a napkin so I can ever so daintily dab the evidence off my lips. Nothing to see here, folks. Keep it movin'.
Here's where Meredith and I definitely agree. This authentic tapas restaurant serves up fried potatoes with a Spanish flair. Eclipse di Luna's patatas bravas are chunky cut, covered in a saffron-hued seasoning mix, and served with a side of romesco sauce, which is sort of like a spicy aioli. Ay, que sabrosos!
Honestly, the fries at Corner Tavern are only slightly above average. But what pushes them to such a high place on my list are the dipping sauces, of which there are six to choose from. An order of the never-frozen, skin-on spuds comes with your choice of not one, not two, not three... but FOUR dipping sauces! My faves are: curried ketchup, BBQ, and Thai chili (I usually double up on this one).
2. Cafe di Sol
The shoestring potato often gets the shun from me. Mainly because most places just don't do them right. They're either so thin that they fry up hard and insubstantial; or they're underseasoned and just taste like... shoestrings. Cafe di Sol, however, avoids both of those missteps. Their hand-cut shoestrings are just thin enough to get a good crispy exterior, but thick enough so you still enjoy the mouth feel of the fluffy interior. They're also liberally seasoned with a mixture of what I think is garlic, salt, and pepper, and sprinkled with fresh chives. I effs with these crabcakes.
The reason for The Shed at Glenwood claiming the #1 spot in my list can be summed up in three words. Black. Truffle. Powder. A light sprinkling of this earth-colored pixie dust takes an already spectacular fry to drool-worthy proportions. The Shed's taters are made like the traditional Belgian fry (should it really come as any surprise that the folks who give us such great beer would also have such good fries?). Cut into batons and fried twice - once on low heat and once at extremely high heat - the result is a crispy fry with a luxuriously creamy interior. But thankfully, even perfection isn't good enough for The Shed. Chef Lance Gummere makes them absolutely decadent by adding black truffle powder - which retails for around $15 an ounce. But it's worth every penny. The powder imparts a rich, umami flavor that's almost like eating meat. OPULENCE! Thank you Chef Lance! And shouts out to the Belgians. Oh, and uh...good looking out, pigs.
cheers,
k
how to make panko crusted prawns
A quick and easy dish that's as attractive on the plate as it is appealing to the palate.
- I had a refrigerator full of food. But little of it was fit for consumption by either humans or many other carbon-based life forms.
- I had absolutely zero desire to submit myself to a grocery store full of Southerners stricken with pre-snow hysteria, forming lines longer than Crystal Gale's hair.
So when Sunday came around and the snow started falling, me and the beau hit the near-deserted streets and headed to the Dekalb Farmer's Market.
Thanks to the 'blizzard', the Farmers Market was more calm than usual, so I took my time sniffing, examining, and exploring all the fresh and exotic wares. Just before checking off the last item on my list, I caught sight of a great deal. Huge, whole, head-on shrimp (so huge I decided to promote them to prawn status) for 4.99/lb. I was a bit daunted by the look of the alien heads with long antennae, but not enough to pass up such a bargain. Plus, I thought it'd make for good presentation to cook a couple with the heads / antennae intact.
Here's how I handled the little monsters.
I wanted to keep the flavors and the prep simple, yet complement the freshness of the prawns, so I went with a sort of Latin / Asian fusion approach.
Ingredients:
1 lb of prawns, shelled and deveined (left the tails on all, and the heads on 2-3)
fresh lime
minced garlic - about 1.5 Tbsp
panko bread crumbs
cornstarch
chopped green onions
chili oil
canola oil for frying
Inspiration:
Looking out of the kitchen window and seeing the snow falling put me in a really chill state of mind. Contemplating the Asian flavors to come, I thought of how the color white is a symbol of death in Japanese culture, and lamented the fact that the snow - pretty as it was on the lawn - probably wouldn't last to the next day. The following poetic phrase popped into my mind:
bits of kamikaze sky
are dying silent, beautiful deaths
on my front lawn
Preparation:
After steeling myself to handle the truly weird-looking crustaceans (I now understand why shrimp are called the 'cockroaches of the sea'), I peeled and deveined all but three, leaving the tails on all of them.
In a medium-sized bowl, I squeezed the juice of 2 limes, added the minced garlic, then tossed the peeled prawns in the mixture. I let