My four-year-old got to see "the whole, entire world today," so he said. We rode the Incline.
For $14/adult and $7/kid age 3 to 13, you can, too. In fact, you could probably see the whole world by driving your car to the top of Lookout Mountain and putting fifty cents in the telescope viewers at the Incline visitor's observation deck.
We planned to go on Labor Day with our out-of-town company, but there was an hour-and-a-half wait to ride the Incline. With five small children in tow, we neither felt like waiting in the hot sun nor like managing them in a crowded train car.
Today's experience was much more pleasant. We parked at the bottom of the Incline railway, on Tennessee Ave. in St. Elmo, paid our $1 to the parking lot machine, bought our tickets, waited 20 minutes under the shade at picnic tables, and then clambered on the train car. Riding up the mountain, we actually faced backward, which showed us the view of Chattanooga (which David called "the whole, entire world!"). The car has no air conditioning, but the windows were open and the 600 feet/minute speed circulated the air. I can't imagine piling in there with 43 other people in mid-July in Chattanooga, when temperatures can top 100 degrees!
At the top, we had a very steep climb out of the train car. The Incline has the distinction of the steepest ("and safest" they advertise) incline in the world--72.7% incline at the top. That means the train car is parked at almost that angle, and the stairs are designed to aid your ascent and exit. We actually traveled with a small group of elderly people, and I thought for a moment they might not be able to exit!
But they did. I know, because after we walked three blocks to Point Park, where we saw "No Picnicking" signs and then walked back, the group was just finishing up their restroom break and congregating outside the front door of the gift shop. We had planned to picnic at Point Park and then return down the Incline, but we were thrown for a loop when we saw a sign that said, "Pay at visitor's center" and then another one that said, "Steep cliffs and short walls. Pay very close attention to small children." If we had even considered it after these two warnings, the "No picnicking" sign hammered the final nail in the coffin of our Point Park plans.
So we walked three blocks, then walked back, and ended up in the Incline building on their observation deck, where they have two picnic tables set up and a very secure fence that even my adventuresome preschool climbers couldn't conquer. I also bought four slices of fudge while we were waiting for the Incline to depart (once every 30 minutes in September) for $15. I couldn't resist a good bargain. One slice was $6. Four slices for $15?? Sign me up!
After the return trip (where my husband was chastised over the loudspeaker for putting his feet up), we had ice cream at the foot of the mountain. We asked for a kiddie scoop, but were told they only had "Single Scoops." Not only that, the scooper was very generous, and our poor children ended up with ice cream on their faces, on their hands, on their elbows, shirts, shorts, knees. They also ended up with a very nice sugar rush.
All-in-all, in my opinion, the trip suited our family very well. We paid $50 for 20 minutes of train car time. If you're not interested in the Incline itself, you can certainly enjoy the view at the top of Lookout Mountain for the price of a parking meter. Make sure you bring enough quarters, since they have signs posted everywhere that they take only quarters. (It's not downtown, after all!) If your children are older, you might enjoy a tour of Point Park and the Chattanooga Electric Map and Battlefield Museum. That sounded like a real chore to us at this stage! (Our kids are currently 6, 5, 4, 2, and 2.)
For more information, see RideTheIncline.com. You'll have to dig around their website for more information, but it will be worth it when you get to see the whole, entire world from Chattanooga.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Saturday, August 7, 2010
The Highway 127 Annual Yard Sale
Well, I spent an hour today preparing a picnic lunch and getting the kids ready to head up to the Pumpkin Patch playground on Highway 127, a 30-minute drive. Imagine my surprise when, merely a mile from the entrance, traffic slowed to a stand-still. It seems I stumbled upon a great annual event that, had I been prepared, I would have enjoyed immensely. As it was, I grumbled about being stuck in the hot car for an extra 15 minutes while we tried to get to the most awesome playground in the South.
So it turns out, the first weekend in August every year, Highway 127 hosts a giant yard sale, from Alabma through Michigan, where antique booths and funnel cake concessions line the road. I spoke with a couple who attend every year. They said usually, the traffic is stand-still bumper-to-bumper for the entire length of the trip (at which point I breathed a prayer of thanks for the recession and lighter traffic!) This couple told me I could Google it. So I did. If you like bargains, antiquing, yard-saling, you should, too. If you're just trying to get to the playground, perhaps you should choose any other weekend of the year.
So it turns out, the first weekend in August every year, Highway 127 hosts a giant yard sale, from Alabma through Michigan, where antique booths and funnel cake concessions line the road. I spoke with a couple who attend every year. They said usually, the traffic is stand-still bumper-to-bumper for the entire length of the trip (at which point I breathed a prayer of thanks for the recession and lighter traffic!) This couple told me I could Google it. So I did. If you like bargains, antiquing, yard-saling, you should, too. If you're just trying to get to the playground, perhaps you should choose any other weekend of the year.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Alleia's on S. Main
My husband and I have had our eye on a mysterious restaurant on South Main identified only by a capital A on a sign outside the building. We had heard they served delicious Italian food, but when we Googled the name, Alleia's, we had trouble finding it because we had no idea how to spell it.
So there you have it. The mysterious building on the corner of South Main and Market, marked only with an 'A,' is Alleia's, spelled "Alleia's."
They serve dinner from 5 til 11pm, so we called at 5pm and made reservations for 8:15pm. When we arrived, we parked in their small parking lot beside the building, and approached the building. I giggled when we approached the enormous, wood-and-iron door that looked like it belonged on a castle, and my husband said, "I don't think this is the door." The sentence wasn't out his mouth as a petite lady in a dress heaved the door open from the inside and said, "Welcome to Alleia's." (I whispered, "I think it is.")
The ambiance struck me as very inviting. Very dim lighting provided in one room by torches and in another room by candles added to the romantic feel. We passed through the main dining hall where a large party feasted down the length of the kitchen. We passed a melting candle display that could pass as a piece of furniture, and entered the back room.
Sadly, I felt like I was in a cave. The echo was terrible. I couldn't hear the host or my server, and I had to yell to my husband across the table to have any sort of decent conversation. Not very romantic. The walls and ceiling looked like dry-erase board painted soft green. Chris noticed they had placed sound boards on the ceiling to try to absorb some of the sound, but the noise was ridiculous.
I'm glad the food and service was good.
We started with the ricotta bruschetta, which had a spicy garlic flavor offset by the sweetness of honey, spread on wood-fire-toasted bread. I could taste the wood in the toast. We gobbled it up. (He should have ordered his own!)
Chris ordered the grouper, which arrived with what he thought were peaches (because several items on the menu had Georgia peaches), but what were really potato wedges! Can you imagine his taste-bud surprise with his first bite? I ordered the angel-hair pasta with gulf shrimp and ate every bite of it. It was smothered in celery and local tomatoes. We actually couldn't eat another bite, but we hated to forego dessert, so we ordered tiramisu to-go. They brought it in a disposable cup, and I was surprised at the small size for the $7 price tag. It was quite yummy--topped with marscapone and dripping with rum. In fact, we could drink the leftover rum after we finished the cake. This makes for a most fabulous, moist dessert.
Next time we go, we might try a different room for a more romantic atmosphere, or we might just lounge in the bar on the comfy couches and chairs.
One word of caution for those of us who must visit the restroom once or twice during the night: Don't expect words on the doors to differentiate the sexes--you must look closely at the naked burnished bronze statuettes posted on the door in renaissance Italian style. Go with the one that resembles you the most, if you get what I mean.
So, Alleia's Restaurant is definitely a fun find, even though it took some effort to find contact info because of the lack of signage. If you're looking for tasty wood-fired Italian food, go tonight! If you're looking for a quiet, intimate evening, you might pause to consider if yelling at each other over dinner creates that mood for you.
So there you have it. The mysterious building on the corner of South Main and Market, marked only with an 'A,' is Alleia's, spelled "Alleia's."
They serve dinner from 5 til 11pm, so we called at 5pm and made reservations for 8:15pm. When we arrived, we parked in their small parking lot beside the building, and approached the building. I giggled when we approached the enormous, wood-and-iron door that looked like it belonged on a castle, and my husband said, "I don't think this is the door." The sentence wasn't out his mouth as a petite lady in a dress heaved the door open from the inside and said, "Welcome to Alleia's." (I whispered, "I think it is.")
The ambiance struck me as very inviting. Very dim lighting provided in one room by torches and in another room by candles added to the romantic feel. We passed through the main dining hall where a large party feasted down the length of the kitchen. We passed a melting candle display that could pass as a piece of furniture, and entered the back room.
Sadly, I felt like I was in a cave. The echo was terrible. I couldn't hear the host or my server, and I had to yell to my husband across the table to have any sort of decent conversation. Not very romantic. The walls and ceiling looked like dry-erase board painted soft green. Chris noticed they had placed sound boards on the ceiling to try to absorb some of the sound, but the noise was ridiculous.
I'm glad the food and service was good.
We started with the ricotta bruschetta, which had a spicy garlic flavor offset by the sweetness of honey, spread on wood-fire-toasted bread. I could taste the wood in the toast. We gobbled it up. (He should have ordered his own!)
Chris ordered the grouper, which arrived with what he thought were peaches (because several items on the menu had Georgia peaches), but what were really potato wedges! Can you imagine his taste-bud surprise with his first bite? I ordered the angel-hair pasta with gulf shrimp and ate every bite of it. It was smothered in celery and local tomatoes. We actually couldn't eat another bite, but we hated to forego dessert, so we ordered tiramisu to-go. They brought it in a disposable cup, and I was surprised at the small size for the $7 price tag. It was quite yummy--topped with marscapone and dripping with rum. In fact, we could drink the leftover rum after we finished the cake. This makes for a most fabulous, moist dessert.
Next time we go, we might try a different room for a more romantic atmosphere, or we might just lounge in the bar on the comfy couches and chairs.
One word of caution for those of us who must visit the restroom once or twice during the night: Don't expect words on the doors to differentiate the sexes--you must look closely at the naked burnished bronze statuettes posted on the door in renaissance Italian style. Go with the one that resembles you the most, if you get what I mean.
So, Alleia's Restaurant is definitely a fun find, even though it took some effort to find contact info because of the lack of signage. If you're looking for tasty wood-fired Italian food, go tonight! If you're looking for a quiet, intimate evening, you might pause to consider if yelling at each other over dinner creates that mood for you.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
EPB--the electric company
We get a bill every month from EPB--the electric company. One month, it was $300. Now we live at 67 degrees inside, and we've brought it down to $130. I consider that a major accomplishment, and I will use my savings to buy sweaters, slippers, and snugglies.
This month, we received an insert that REALLY bothers me. EPB is begging us during this giving season to donate to needy families to help them stay warm during this cold, hard winter by paying an extra dollar on our electric bill! Does this strike anyone else as odd? This is not a charity asking for money--this is a business asking for us to pay extra this month so that someone else doesn't have to pay what they owe. Or, more truthfully, so that EPB doesn't have to employ someone to send so many accounts to collections!
Perhaps we can pass this idea on to Bi-Lo or Wal-mart so that the "needy" shoppers don't have to pay for their goods. Or maybe Delta Air would be interested in a similar program. I'm sure I'd qualify as "needy" compared to an average jetsetter.=) Oooh, what if everyone who goes to the Hannah Montana concert pays an extra buck to help the less fortunate enjoy an evening of teeny-bopper heaven? Count me in!
Sure, I'll bite. I'll give a buck to a bonified charity. But what I want to know from EPB is this: how do I get on the list??!
This month, we received an insert that REALLY bothers me. EPB is begging us during this giving season to donate to needy families to help them stay warm during this cold, hard winter by paying an extra dollar on our electric bill! Does this strike anyone else as odd? This is not a charity asking for money--this is a business asking for us to pay extra this month so that someone else doesn't have to pay what they owe. Or, more truthfully, so that EPB doesn't have to employ someone to send so many accounts to collections!
Perhaps we can pass this idea on to Bi-Lo or Wal-mart so that the "needy" shoppers don't have to pay for their goods. Or maybe Delta Air would be interested in a similar program. I'm sure I'd qualify as "needy" compared to an average jetsetter.=) Oooh, what if everyone who goes to the Hannah Montana concert pays an extra buck to help the less fortunate enjoy an evening of teeny-bopper heaven? Count me in!
Sure, I'll bite. I'll give a buck to a bonified charity. But what I want to know from EPB is this: how do I get on the list??!
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
The Children's Discovery Center--A+
As the days shorten and the wind chills our playgrounds, the kids adopt a certain frenetic approach to life indoors, which means the mommy lives with tight muscles and frazzled hair. Thank goodness for the climate-controlled relief that is the Children's Discovery Center!
We went twice last week, and we still didn't explore the entire center. They have live art shows, science shows, storytime and animal discovery shows, but my five children couldn't tear themselves away from any of the hands-on exhibits they were enjoying to watch a show! We started at the waterworks near the entrance, and although they provide velcro water-resistant jackets, Tyler fought it like a dog, so I let him play without one. That was a mistake! He came away soaking wet from head to toe, after taking a cup in the exhibit and dousing his head. He guffawed then, but the walk home was miserable.
Above the water exhibit is a great indoor playground that rivals the biggest McDonald's! Saja took me to China on a boat ("All Aboard!" she kept shouting.), and even the two-year-olds were able to enjoy the climbing and sliding structure. A posted sign says, "All children under age 5 need a climbing partner," but all my children ARE under age five, and I couldn't partner with them all, so I just hung out with the twins while the older kids wore themselves out.
Then we moved on to a dark room with a strobe-light sculpture exhibit. The kids loved it in there, because the sculpture is moving so fast that it creates quite a strong wind. As the responsible adult, I didn't care for this exhibit so much, because it strained me too much to figure out which of my kids were in there, due to the darkness and the strobe effect. But as an irresponsible adult, I think it's really cool!
On your way to the art area, you can face paint or work on a craft provided by the museum. You'll pass by an exhibit specifically designed for children ages 4 and under, but my kids didn't want to waste time in there. Inside that exhibit, they have another special area just for infants.
We didn't really explore the art area, but I saw two computers--one touch-screen and one mouse-motivated, some masterpiece magnetic jigsaw puzzles, some playdough and sculpture stamps, and some magnetic building blocks. Sounds messy!
We did spend quite a bit of time in the music area. My favorite instrument looked like a massive ball stuck all over with those blue bulb-syringes that all mommies use to relieve their poor little baby's stuffy nose. When you squeeze the bulb, it makes a note. I squeezed and laughed, and the twins laughed and clapped ourselves silly. You can play a piano, or press one of three buttons to make it play itself. You can tambourine your head, as Tyler did, you can sit in a musical chair to feel the vibrations of the strings, you can watch a movie in the theatre room, you can put on a puppet show or a live show, complete with sound and lighting effects, and you can play a cross between a harp and a guitar. It has a name, but this harried mother of five surely does not remember it.
On our second visit, we spent about an hour playing in the sandbox called Dinosaur Excavation. Would you believe my children were genuinely excited to discover a bone under their workspace?! Many times, however, I had to chastise my zealous 3-year-old for slinging the sand in his exuberance to unearth the long-dead behemoths. The superfine sand brushed off easily, and very little of it joined us on the ride home. What did make it, I suppose, had hitchhiked in Kora's shoes, which she took off and filled up.
In the dinosaur exhibit, you'll also be privileged to see Madagascar Hissing Cockroaches, African Giant Millipedes (which look just like the tiny baby millipedes that assaulted my house five years ago, by the way. Shivers!), a pixie frog (which is anything but pixie!), a gecko (not Geico), and several geological samples of minerals. Oh, Tyler also enjoyed the pint-sized walk-through cave with a window at just the right height for him to poke out his head and giggle.
We spent the last few minutes before closing-time (5pm) in the electricity and physics exhibit. Tyler just danced with glee when he made a foam ball float in mid-air! A huge race-track occupies the middle of the room, but we couldn't figure out what to do with it. The older kids really enjoyed playing with the magnetic gears and the weights and balances, but I got distracted when two museum employees ran past me, one on the walkie announcing, "Missing Tyler, age 1, in a red jacket." The responsible adult of Tyler looked nonplussed, but I imagine they found him. I almost suggested checking the elevator, which is located just adjacent to the room in which he was last seen, because MY Tyler, age 2, would be there in a heartbeat if he saw it. I actually have lost one of the twins to an elevator in a retirement home, but it only had two floors (as does the Children's Museum), and I could zap him with the mommy stare from the bottom floor because it opened to the second floor where the elevator exited.
We did use the elevator when we had the double-stroller to hit the second floor, where you can find a small library (from which you can actually check out books!), an active area with stationary bikes and a climbing wall, and the entrance to the observation tower. I thought the twins would love climbing the spiral staircase with a million stairs, but since they had not enjoyed a nice long nap before we carted them off to the museum, they could not find it in their hearts to enjoy it. So I carried them. Whew, it was a workout. From the top, you can go outside for about ten feet, and then you can pay to see things up close. I think the workout was the best thing that we enjoyed from the tower. (There's no elevator there!)
Finally, we spent quite a bit of time in the Rooftop Fun Factory, which, as the name suggests, is actually on the roof. The girls played garden checkers, actually enjoying a jump when the opportunity arose. Kora used a pulley to swing herself, David used a lever to pop a ball, and Tyler and Tobias plunged their sleeved arms into the bubble pit, just because they could. We happened to go on a warm December day, but they will close the rooftop in inclement weather. We all had a grand time out there. I slipped back inside to use the restroom and happened upon a complimentary cart of gingersnaps and herbal tea, which I was served with fondest compliments by a museum volunteer. Tobias promptly pitched a fit. I rewarded him with my half-eaten cookie. He thanked me by hushing up. (Hey, this isn't a parenting blog!)
For only $135/year, my entire family (and that's a lot of folks, folks!) can enjoy free admission to this and 135 other children's museums nationwide. The Children's Discovery Center is located on the corner of Chester and 3rd, but it's best to park at a meter on Broad if you plan to stay two hours or less. Otherwise, the museum charges $4 to park all day in the lot behind the building. Do not be misled, as I was, believing you can enter the parking lot from Chester. Alas, if you attempt such foolery, you will find yourself back on Hwy 27 with no recourse until the next exit. Drive around to the back of the building in the lot almost adjacent to the Lookout field. Hey, you could even pick up Lookouts tickets while you're there and enjoy a little Spring Training!
In conclusion, if you're singing the "It's too cold to do anything" blues, then go to the Children's Museum and enjoy a little break from the insanity we call motherhood. You can go everyday but Wednesday from 10am to 5pm (Sunday is only noon to 5pm). On Wednesdays, you'll just have to suffer through your insanity alone... or perhaps go to McDonald's.
http://www.cdmfun.org/
We went twice last week, and we still didn't explore the entire center. They have live art shows, science shows, storytime and animal discovery shows, but my five children couldn't tear themselves away from any of the hands-on exhibits they were enjoying to watch a show! We started at the waterworks near the entrance, and although they provide velcro water-resistant jackets, Tyler fought it like a dog, so I let him play without one. That was a mistake! He came away soaking wet from head to toe, after taking a cup in the exhibit and dousing his head. He guffawed then, but the walk home was miserable.
Above the water exhibit is a great indoor playground that rivals the biggest McDonald's! Saja took me to China on a boat ("All Aboard!" she kept shouting.), and even the two-year-olds were able to enjoy the climbing and sliding structure. A posted sign says, "All children under age 5 need a climbing partner," but all my children ARE under age five, and I couldn't partner with them all, so I just hung out with the twins while the older kids wore themselves out.
Then we moved on to a dark room with a strobe-light sculpture exhibit. The kids loved it in there, because the sculpture is moving so fast that it creates quite a strong wind. As the responsible adult, I didn't care for this exhibit so much, because it strained me too much to figure out which of my kids were in there, due to the darkness and the strobe effect. But as an irresponsible adult, I think it's really cool!
On your way to the art area, you can face paint or work on a craft provided by the museum. You'll pass by an exhibit specifically designed for children ages 4 and under, but my kids didn't want to waste time in there. Inside that exhibit, they have another special area just for infants.
We didn't really explore the art area, but I saw two computers--one touch-screen and one mouse-motivated, some masterpiece magnetic jigsaw puzzles, some playdough and sculpture stamps, and some magnetic building blocks. Sounds messy!
We did spend quite a bit of time in the music area. My favorite instrument looked like a massive ball stuck all over with those blue bulb-syringes that all mommies use to relieve their poor little baby's stuffy nose. When you squeeze the bulb, it makes a note. I squeezed and laughed, and the twins laughed and clapped ourselves silly. You can play a piano, or press one of three buttons to make it play itself. You can tambourine your head, as Tyler did, you can sit in a musical chair to feel the vibrations of the strings, you can watch a movie in the theatre room, you can put on a puppet show or a live show, complete with sound and lighting effects, and you can play a cross between a harp and a guitar. It has a name, but this harried mother of five surely does not remember it.
On our second visit, we spent about an hour playing in the sandbox called Dinosaur Excavation. Would you believe my children were genuinely excited to discover a bone under their workspace?! Many times, however, I had to chastise my zealous 3-year-old for slinging the sand in his exuberance to unearth the long-dead behemoths. The superfine sand brushed off easily, and very little of it joined us on the ride home. What did make it, I suppose, had hitchhiked in Kora's shoes, which she took off and filled up.
In the dinosaur exhibit, you'll also be privileged to see Madagascar Hissing Cockroaches, African Giant Millipedes (which look just like the tiny baby millipedes that assaulted my house five years ago, by the way. Shivers!), a pixie frog (which is anything but pixie!), a gecko (not Geico), and several geological samples of minerals. Oh, Tyler also enjoyed the pint-sized walk-through cave with a window at just the right height for him to poke out his head and giggle.
We spent the last few minutes before closing-time (5pm) in the electricity and physics exhibit. Tyler just danced with glee when he made a foam ball float in mid-air! A huge race-track occupies the middle of the room, but we couldn't figure out what to do with it. The older kids really enjoyed playing with the magnetic gears and the weights and balances, but I got distracted when two museum employees ran past me, one on the walkie announcing, "Missing Tyler, age 1, in a red jacket." The responsible adult of Tyler looked nonplussed, but I imagine they found him. I almost suggested checking the elevator, which is located just adjacent to the room in which he was last seen, because MY Tyler, age 2, would be there in a heartbeat if he saw it. I actually have lost one of the twins to an elevator in a retirement home, but it only had two floors (as does the Children's Museum), and I could zap him with the mommy stare from the bottom floor because it opened to the second floor where the elevator exited.
We did use the elevator when we had the double-stroller to hit the second floor, where you can find a small library (from which you can actually check out books!), an active area with stationary bikes and a climbing wall, and the entrance to the observation tower. I thought the twins would love climbing the spiral staircase with a million stairs, but since they had not enjoyed a nice long nap before we carted them off to the museum, they could not find it in their hearts to enjoy it. So I carried them. Whew, it was a workout. From the top, you can go outside for about ten feet, and then you can pay to see things up close. I think the workout was the best thing that we enjoyed from the tower. (There's no elevator there!)
Finally, we spent quite a bit of time in the Rooftop Fun Factory, which, as the name suggests, is actually on the roof. The girls played garden checkers, actually enjoying a jump when the opportunity arose. Kora used a pulley to swing herself, David used a lever to pop a ball, and Tyler and Tobias plunged their sleeved arms into the bubble pit, just because they could. We happened to go on a warm December day, but they will close the rooftop in inclement weather. We all had a grand time out there. I slipped back inside to use the restroom and happened upon a complimentary cart of gingersnaps and herbal tea, which I was served with fondest compliments by a museum volunteer. Tobias promptly pitched a fit. I rewarded him with my half-eaten cookie. He thanked me by hushing up. (Hey, this isn't a parenting blog!)
For only $135/year, my entire family (and that's a lot of folks, folks!) can enjoy free admission to this and 135 other children's museums nationwide. The Children's Discovery Center is located on the corner of Chester and 3rd, but it's best to park at a meter on Broad if you plan to stay two hours or less. Otherwise, the museum charges $4 to park all day in the lot behind the building. Do not be misled, as I was, believing you can enter the parking lot from Chester. Alas, if you attempt such foolery, you will find yourself back on Hwy 27 with no recourse until the next exit. Drive around to the back of the building in the lot almost adjacent to the Lookout field. Hey, you could even pick up Lookouts tickets while you're there and enjoy a little Spring Training!
In conclusion, if you're singing the "It's too cold to do anything" blues, then go to the Children's Museum and enjoy a little break from the insanity we call motherhood. You can go everyday but Wednesday from 10am to 5pm (Sunday is only noon to 5pm). On Wednesdays, you'll just have to suffer through your insanity alone... or perhaps go to McDonald's.
http://www.cdmfun.org/
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Armando's: the best burger in Highland Park
My brother-in-law is visiting this weekend from UT Knoxville. Here's a little shout-out to Josh. Woot!
Chris wanted to show him a good time, so he took him to Armando's, where we once devoured the best (and biggest) bacon cheeseburger and onion rings ever! However, Josh's bus came in at 8:10. Armando's sign says they close at 7pm. Or 6pm. You can't really tell. The number 6 is hand-written in black marker over the printed number 7, so both are visible, and the intent of the communication is lost. "Armando's, open 10am to 7/6 pm." (There isn't a key on my keyboard that has the 6 superimposed over the 7. So, I improvised.)
So, after enjoying a sprinkly game of tennis at Warner Park, we hustled down to Main and Lynbrook, as 6pm was quickly approaching. We maneuvered around several hastily parked cars, landed in a proper parking spot, and waited for Chris to change out of his sweaty shirt into a clean one. It's a good thing, too, because the sign on the door clearly states, "No shoes, no shirt, no service." Do people do that in Chattanooga, too? I thought it was an Arkansas thing.
Well-shod and well-clothed, we entered the unassuming little restaurant, where the chairs were already up on the table and the floor ready to be mopped. I guess it does close at 6! We walked up to the counter, where a sign states, "We cannot be held responsible if you do not make your order correctly."
Whoa! Intimidation. This must be some burger if you have to worry about the WAY you order it.
They offer home-cooked foods as well as burgers, so the cluttered menu offered nothing but confusion and intimidation, considering the pressure I was under to order properly. So I went for what I knew: The Bacon Burger.
"You don't want cheese with that??" the cashier asked.
"Oh, well, yes, I do," I said. (It's listed as a Bacon Burger on the menu, so that's what I said!)
My husband and his brother followed my lead and ordered properly. "I'd like a bacon CHEESEburger, please, with fries and a sprite."
We also ordered the homemade daily special banana pudding, but they were out. They do, after all, close at 6pm.
Armando's deals in takeouts and callins--more, I daresay, than sit-ins. But what an amazing opportunity to eat half a cow for under $5! And the burger truly is the juiciest, tastiest, most satisfying burger I have ever had. And I've had my share of burgers all over the country.
If I didn't think it would clog up my heart, I might eat a half-Armando's everyday. But I would hate to hear the doctor tell me after an MRI of my heart, "Oh, here's the problem, you have a chunk of hamburger in your heart!"
As we slowly savored our meal, I overheard this conversation between employees:
A: "Did you lock the door yet?"
B: "Nope, we have three minutes."
ENTER family of three
A: "I'm sorry, we're all out of burgers."
Family of three looks very puzzled. How does a burger joint run out of burgers, they must be asking themselves. And how are they going to NOT be out of burgers by 10am? Will they be making a run to Sam's Club tonight before they close at 8pm?
A: "We have, um, salad?"
(The question mark is intentional, because she really asked it in the most sheepish, unfortunate, apologetic way.)
Salad. Not the best consolation prize when your mouth is salivating for Armando's burgers.
EXIT family of three.
ENTER Employee C, apparently, the cook.
C: "What, they didn't want any food?"
A: "We're out of burgers!"
C: "What??! We're not out of burgers! I've been cookin' them to order!"
By this time, I am certain the clock had struck 6pm, but no one had moved to lock the door because a flurry of apologies and explanations followed, and the man of the family jested that they walked all the way back out to their car and back in again!
It's just as well. You'll have to do a lot more walking than that to burn off the fat that burger'll put on you.
So we left Armando's and the sheepish employees, fat and happy, clothed and shod, just after 6pm.
We will definitely return... just as soon as I brush my arteries.
Chris wanted to show him a good time, so he took him to Armando's, where we once devoured the best (and biggest) bacon cheeseburger and onion rings ever! However, Josh's bus came in at 8:10. Armando's sign says they close at 7pm. Or 6pm. You can't really tell. The number 6 is hand-written in black marker over the printed number 7, so both are visible, and the intent of the communication is lost. "Armando's, open 10am to 7/6 pm." (There isn't a key on my keyboard that has the 6 superimposed over the 7. So, I improvised.)
So, after enjoying a sprinkly game of tennis at Warner Park, we hustled down to Main and Lynbrook, as 6pm was quickly approaching. We maneuvered around several hastily parked cars, landed in a proper parking spot, and waited for Chris to change out of his sweaty shirt into a clean one. It's a good thing, too, because the sign on the door clearly states, "No shoes, no shirt, no service." Do people do that in Chattanooga, too? I thought it was an Arkansas thing.
Well-shod and well-clothed, we entered the unassuming little restaurant, where the chairs were already up on the table and the floor ready to be mopped. I guess it does close at 6! We walked up to the counter, where a sign states, "We cannot be held responsible if you do not make your order correctly."
Whoa! Intimidation. This must be some burger if you have to worry about the WAY you order it.
They offer home-cooked foods as well as burgers, so the cluttered menu offered nothing but confusion and intimidation, considering the pressure I was under to order properly. So I went for what I knew: The Bacon Burger.
"You don't want cheese with that??" the cashier asked.
"Oh, well, yes, I do," I said. (It's listed as a Bacon Burger on the menu, so that's what I said!)
My husband and his brother followed my lead and ordered properly. "I'd like a bacon CHEESEburger, please, with fries and a sprite."
We also ordered the homemade daily special banana pudding, but they were out. They do, after all, close at 6pm.
Armando's deals in takeouts and callins--more, I daresay, than sit-ins. But what an amazing opportunity to eat half a cow for under $5! And the burger truly is the juiciest, tastiest, most satisfying burger I have ever had. And I've had my share of burgers all over the country.
If I didn't think it would clog up my heart, I might eat a half-Armando's everyday. But I would hate to hear the doctor tell me after an MRI of my heart, "Oh, here's the problem, you have a chunk of hamburger in your heart!"
As we slowly savored our meal, I overheard this conversation between employees:
A: "Did you lock the door yet?"
B: "Nope, we have three minutes."
ENTER family of three
A: "I'm sorry, we're all out of burgers."
Family of three looks very puzzled. How does a burger joint run out of burgers, they must be asking themselves. And how are they going to NOT be out of burgers by 10am? Will they be making a run to Sam's Club tonight before they close at 8pm?
A: "We have, um, salad?"
(The question mark is intentional, because she really asked it in the most sheepish, unfortunate, apologetic way.)
Salad. Not the best consolation prize when your mouth is salivating for Armando's burgers.
EXIT family of three.
ENTER Employee C, apparently, the cook.
C: "What, they didn't want any food?"
A: "We're out of burgers!"
C: "What??! We're not out of burgers! I've been cookin' them to order!"
By this time, I am certain the clock had struck 6pm, but no one had moved to lock the door because a flurry of apologies and explanations followed, and the man of the family jested that they walked all the way back out to their car and back in again!
It's just as well. You'll have to do a lot more walking than that to burn off the fat that burger'll put on you.
So we left Armando's and the sheepish employees, fat and happy, clothed and shod, just after 6pm.
We will definitely return... just as soon as I brush my arteries.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
The Yellow Deli... not Delhi
Our Sunday School teacher mentioned the Yellow Deli in class, and Chris and I geared up for Indian food. Boy, were we surprised! Those dang homophones get me every time!
The Yellow Deli, located on the campus of UTC in the 700 block of McCallie Ave., has very little parking available. In fact, my friends who attend UTC have skipped class before for lack of a parking spot. We drove the block so many times that it would have been faster for us to actually walk from our house. Finally, a small metered spot opened up, but being after 4:30 pm, we didn't have to fork over the cash to park there. After a fourteen-point parallel park by my dear sweet husband who is all-talented, we finally disembarked and walked a block and a half to the hippie-decorated brick building with an extensive paver patio.
After we entered, we weren't sure what to do. A small carved niche shows a handful of hot drinks available at what looks like a coffee bar. Loaves of bread were also available here. The sign said, "Please seat yourself," but we wanted to sit on the patio and weren't sure this applied to us. So we seated ourselves on the patio. My husband actually asked someone on the patio if this was the right move (a man, asking??!), and we were directed back inside.
It's easy to tell who works at the Yellow Deli because they all belong to a commune, a Christian cult called The Twelve Tribes, and many of the women wore long, billowy, cuffed pants and loose button-down shirts. Those who didn't choose Billow Cuff as their style still wore Billow. From what I gathered by reading the wall, this movement grew out of the "love everybody" hippie movement. The men wore unshaven faces, ponytailed, and headbands.
We flagged down a tribe-member and asked what to do next. He grabbed some menus for us (yellow, of course), and directed us to the smoothie bar, where two barstools awaited us. He told us, "Sometimes, when you're sitting here, you may be blessed with some tea, so be prepared."
We weren't.
We perused and perused that menu. We read the wall, which explains a little bit about the movement. We watched a college student stop himself about a centimeter from banging his face into a wooden post, which had, incidentally, been padded with leather, indicating that he was not the first to meet nose to post.
Still no tea.
Finally, we flagged down a lady with a long gray ponytail and a worrisome look, and asked her if she was the right person to order from. She took our order, ran our Visa, then returned and asked for cash. Chris sits on his wallet and rubs the magnetic strips off of them, so that was no surprise. I managed to break the worried look by making this observation aloud. She smiled ever so slightly.
For $14.75 plus tip, we enjoyed the most delicious lamb sandwich (the lambwich) and Deli Rose sandwich ever. The honey wheat roll just melted in my mouth like cotton candy. I told Chris I wasn't hungry, but he urged me to order anyway, and we'll take it home. I ate the whole thing. Lamb! Can you believe it?!
Two fully-bearded and ponytailed men sanded and shellaqued away at a new handrail for the patio while we munched our deli meal. They seemed normal enough--no strange accent, a normal sense of humor, no strange bonnets on their heads or a million kids running around (as if I can talk about that!). We picked up a free brochure on the way out about the order, but it's awfully wordy, and I haven't had a chance to read it yet.
Apparently, the Deli sustains their way of life financially. It's some good eatin', lemme tell you. If I could afford it, I might eat there all the time. They have free wifi, and they're open 24 hours for 5 days a week. I think they close on Friday night and reopen sometime on Sunday. I'm sure www.YellowDeli.com will give all the details you need.
We toured the building before we left so I could describe it to you. Downstairs, you'll find the coffee bar and smoothie bar, as well as an array of small tables and chairs made of wood seats and iron formed in the shape of large daisies. A very cool spiral staircase leads upstairs, but since spirals are difficult to manage sometimes, they added a traditional staircase in the back. That one leads you right into the lounge, where drinks are allowed, but not food. They have a few couches, and one table in that area. Eventually, they'll open their upstairs balcony. I peeked out the windows and saw a few members of the order chatting out there among mostly disassembled tables and chairs. Additional seating in daisy chairs is available upstairs as well.
When you go to the restroom, choose one of two rooms labeled, "Whatever you are." The handles are fashioned from leather and brass, which lends to the hand-crafted feel of the place. Appropriately enough, the toilet was yellow, or at least looked yellow in the dim light of the brown room. Since you never can tell with religious cults, I was glad to see soap and running water.
This is definitely the most unique restaurant I've visited in many years. While I do enjoy my cookie-cutter Starbucks, I like unique, too. I'll probably go back very soon, if not to the restaurant, to the concession stand at the Sunday Farmer's Market downtown.
Why yellow?
And why is everything decorated with daisies?
No wonder our Sunday School teacher confused it with the Purple Daisy... whatever that is. Maybe we'll head there next time.
The Yellow Deli, located on the campus of UTC in the 700 block of McCallie Ave., has very little parking available. In fact, my friends who attend UTC have skipped class before for lack of a parking spot. We drove the block so many times that it would have been faster for us to actually walk from our house. Finally, a small metered spot opened up, but being after 4:30 pm, we didn't have to fork over the cash to park there. After a fourteen-point parallel park by my dear sweet husband who is all-talented, we finally disembarked and walked a block and a half to the hippie-decorated brick building with an extensive paver patio.
After we entered, we weren't sure what to do. A small carved niche shows a handful of hot drinks available at what looks like a coffee bar. Loaves of bread were also available here. The sign said, "Please seat yourself," but we wanted to sit on the patio and weren't sure this applied to us. So we seated ourselves on the patio. My husband actually asked someone on the patio if this was the right move (a man, asking??!), and we were directed back inside.
It's easy to tell who works at the Yellow Deli because they all belong to a commune, a Christian cult called The Twelve Tribes, and many of the women wore long, billowy, cuffed pants and loose button-down shirts. Those who didn't choose Billow Cuff as their style still wore Billow. From what I gathered by reading the wall, this movement grew out of the "love everybody" hippie movement. The men wore unshaven faces, ponytailed, and headbands.
We flagged down a tribe-member and asked what to do next. He grabbed some menus for us (yellow, of course), and directed us to the smoothie bar, where two barstools awaited us. He told us, "Sometimes, when you're sitting here, you may be blessed with some tea, so be prepared."
We weren't.
We perused and perused that menu. We read the wall, which explains a little bit about the movement. We watched a college student stop himself about a centimeter from banging his face into a wooden post, which had, incidentally, been padded with leather, indicating that he was not the first to meet nose to post.
Still no tea.
Finally, we flagged down a lady with a long gray ponytail and a worrisome look, and asked her if she was the right person to order from. She took our order, ran our Visa, then returned and asked for cash. Chris sits on his wallet and rubs the magnetic strips off of them, so that was no surprise. I managed to break the worried look by making this observation aloud. She smiled ever so slightly.
For $14.75 plus tip, we enjoyed the most delicious lamb sandwich (the lambwich) and Deli Rose sandwich ever. The honey wheat roll just melted in my mouth like cotton candy. I told Chris I wasn't hungry, but he urged me to order anyway, and we'll take it home. I ate the whole thing. Lamb! Can you believe it?!
Two fully-bearded and ponytailed men sanded and shellaqued away at a new handrail for the patio while we munched our deli meal. They seemed normal enough--no strange accent, a normal sense of humor, no strange bonnets on their heads or a million kids running around (as if I can talk about that!). We picked up a free brochure on the way out about the order, but it's awfully wordy, and I haven't had a chance to read it yet.
Apparently, the Deli sustains their way of life financially. It's some good eatin', lemme tell you. If I could afford it, I might eat there all the time. They have free wifi, and they're open 24 hours for 5 days a week. I think they close on Friday night and reopen sometime on Sunday. I'm sure www.YellowDeli.com will give all the details you need.
We toured the building before we left so I could describe it to you. Downstairs, you'll find the coffee bar and smoothie bar, as well as an array of small tables and chairs made of wood seats and iron formed in the shape of large daisies. A very cool spiral staircase leads upstairs, but since spirals are difficult to manage sometimes, they added a traditional staircase in the back. That one leads you right into the lounge, where drinks are allowed, but not food. They have a few couches, and one table in that area. Eventually, they'll open their upstairs balcony. I peeked out the windows and saw a few members of the order chatting out there among mostly disassembled tables and chairs. Additional seating in daisy chairs is available upstairs as well.
When you go to the restroom, choose one of two rooms labeled, "Whatever you are." The handles are fashioned from leather and brass, which lends to the hand-crafted feel of the place. Appropriately enough, the toilet was yellow, or at least looked yellow in the dim light of the brown room. Since you never can tell with religious cults, I was glad to see soap and running water.
This is definitely the most unique restaurant I've visited in many years. While I do enjoy my cookie-cutter Starbucks, I like unique, too. I'll probably go back very soon, if not to the restaurant, to the concession stand at the Sunday Farmer's Market downtown.
Why yellow?
And why is everything decorated with daisies?
No wonder our Sunday School teacher confused it with the Purple Daisy... whatever that is. Maybe we'll head there next time.
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