CHEZ LULU

The choice of restaurant was easy: Give a girl French lessons for five years, and she's got a built-in affinity for anything francais, mais oui. We trotted over to Chez Lulu, a bohemian yet refined French cafe tucked into Birmingham's English Village. (Think decor of Grayton Beach's Red Bar with less flip flops and sand, more ballet flats and white table cloths.) Lush reds, walls covered in scrolling-gold frames, and European food: Perfect ambiance for a new 21-year-old and her mama.

Okay, okay. So while I may be interning in a city where I go to college, let's be honest: You kinda lose the "explorer" habit when sophomore year hits. This summer, I'm going to finally dig into Birmingham like I am a fresh out of the gates traveler. And while I may be no novice to Birmingham, there a a plethora of mossy Shades Creek rocks I have left to unturn. Keep checking back with me--I'm a girl on a mission and I will welcome any and all ideas you have for me!

GILCHRIST'S
I've smugly uttered the following phrase approximately 26 times: "Oh, well I never order the same thing twice." My, my. How cosmopolitan. But alas, as I add years to my life I find some comfort in having my "usual." At my table. In my restaurant.

(I visited Mose Tolliver at his home in 2005.)

I'm heading to Tallahassee, FL, this week to interview an artist for an upcoming feature on the great Southern folk artists you need to buy now.

(I would tell ya more about it, but I don't want to scoop the story.  Keep your eye on the mag...) 

I'm a folk art enthusiast, investing any extra cash into pieces I admire and the artists who create them. The trip reminds me of my first folk art encounter: A trip to see Mose Tolliver, one of the most noted artists of the contemporary folk art genre... 

Okay, so this is really cool.  I caught wind about the Southwest Airlines Wi-Fi, but it didn't cross my mind this morning when I hopped the plane from B'ham to Dallas.  

Then, Bam!  Here I am, blogging in real time from the skies.  Their wi-fi homepage shows me the progress of the flight.  (It's 8:15 a.m., we're going 450 mph, our ETA to Love Field is 68 minutes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses...)  During this testing period, the service is as free as the two packs of peanuts sitting on my tray. 

Now, what could I write about?  The guy in 12D holds his newspaper close to his face.  The woman in 13D brought cheese crackers.  She offered me one, but I politely declined. 

I never promised the post would be exciting. Just cool.

I wish Billy Reid was my roommate. Then whenever I needed to look especially cool and dapper and Gatsby-gone-South, I'd just raid his closet. Last month, the New York Times ran a killer piece giving the Alabama fashion designer major kudos. He deserves it. Now only if I can convince Billy to move from Florence to Birmingham.

Yesterday I hit the red leather-bound volumes of Southern Living, starting at the top left corner of the shelves in 1966. What I found felt very much like a time capsule.

In a recent New York Times Sunday travel feature, photographer Katherine Wolkoff captured the Port City of Mobile, Alabama, in a series of wonderfully sunlit images. It's always intriguing to see how other publications interpret the beauty of our region. I think Katherine did an outstanding job.

To see the photographs, click here. For more about Mobile Bay and the surrounding communities of Fairhope, Spanish Fort, and Foley, read Wanda McKinney's piece, "Spring Getaway on Mobile Bay," from the April 2008 issue, and Allison Barnes' feature "Mobile Says 'Yes We Can'," from February 2008. Above photo by John O'Hagan for SL.

"Charlie Brown Wins!"

This could have been the headline in The Tennessean after the 19th-ranked Vanderbilt Commodores beat No. 13 Auburn 14-13 in Nashville Saturday night.

For years, the Lucys of the Southeastern Conference snatched the ball away just as Charlie (a.k.a. Vandy) Brown was about to achieve success. But on this night, the SEC's perennial whipping boys finally sank a football powerhouse to go 5-0 for the first time since World War II. As improbable as it may seem, it's now the Commodores who are sitting proudly atop the SEC East.

As I sped through the darkness Saturday night racing toward my next assignment, I hit the seek button on the radio over and over again. I was hoping to hear a broadcast of the Alabama-Georgia game delivered by UGA's snarling, growling play-by-play announcer, Larry Munson.

But that was not to be.

For the first time in more than 40 years, the University of Georgia took the field at Sanford Stadium in Athens without the legendary Munson behind the microphone. No wonder the Dawgs wore black.

Recently, Time Magazine (a publication owned by our parent company) published a story titled, "50 Authentic American Experiences." These huge types of magazine articles always intrigue me. Rarely do I not grab the magazine or click on the story to see what editors spotlight as the best BBQ in Texas, the greatest songwriters of all-time, or America's favorite beaches. I love the breadth of expertise and the narrowing down of opinions.

Time, though, missed the mark, especially in the South. I'll offer my thoughts and you can decide.

This was big-time college football at its best. No. 6 LSU at No. 10 Auburn. Tigers vs. Tigers.

I was tripped up by Hanna.

In a perfect world, I would have gone to Jordan-Hare on Saturday to watch Auburn manhandle Southern Miss. Instead, I sat on the tarmac in Philadelphia, suffering a long, miserable "weather delay" supposedly caused by fast-moving Hurricane Hanna.

I was downright blue...until I discovered the free wireless connection in the Atlanta airport (while waiting for yet another weather-delayed plane to take me to Birmingham). Soon I was surfing cyberspace, hunting down football-themed treats to accompany the perfect tailgate or football party.

Follow my search, and add your own.

(Nick’s in the Sticks—secret to some, religion to others.)

If Seats Could Talk

Exactly how long has that stool been anchoring the entrance to Nick’s in the Sticks, the tiny Tuscaloosa landmark of steaks and sports stuff? In our 2 worth-it-all hours of waiting for a table last weekend, the subject had plenty of time to come up.

(Photo taken by Kelsey Blackwell)

Fresh off the Letterman show, Birmingham’s homegrown Wild Sweet Orange played to a sold-out crowd at Workplay in downtown Birmingham last Saturday. Amid the smell of lingering cigarette smoke brought in on the shirttails of the audience, and the mélange of sweat and aftershave from the dude curiously overheating in front of me, was the faintest scent of success. In addition to late night, the group’s had a track featured on Grey’s Anatomy and embarked on a nationwide tour that includes a stop in Chicago for Lollapalooza. Folks from the ‘ham, though, can say they knew them when . . .

Miesha Williams isn't a bartender, but she's as open-eared as any Moe I've ever met pulling tap handles.

(South Carolina's 1,500-year-old Angel Oak. Photo credit.)

When I think of trees, I think of the four spring-flowering Bradford Pears that made a square in my childhood backyard. How the trees formed a lane perfect for pitching baseballs (to my mother mostly). How I watched them, unknowingly, grow from weak treelings to wonderful, burgundy-leafed adults. And how they sort of watched me rise as well. Trees are markers of the changing seasons, givers of shade, reminders of time, and anchors to place.

Here are a few famous ones in the South that bring to mind the words of William Cullen Bryant, "The groves were God's first temples."

(Photo courtesy of Fleur Design via Flickr)

I’ve been going to Gulf Shores, Alabama, since the early 70s, and I still love it as much as I did when I was a kid wearing floaties. Now I’ve got kids of my own, and the reasons for that affection are the same. While other beaches offer better shopping, more sophisticated dining, and more houses that belong on a magazine cover, Gulf Shores maintains a simplicity that’s hard to replicate. It’s very much a family place, with wide beaches and blue-green water. The vibe of the whole place is laid-back and very Southern. (Any place that proudly calls itself the Redneck Riviera is obviously without pretension.) In Gulf Shores, you’re left to enjoy the things that matter most at the beach: sun, sand, water, food, and family. That’s the equation for a perfect vacation.

1. The Golden Driller, Tulsa, OK (map)

Height: 76 feet
Constructed: 1953
Claim to Fame: Largest freestanding statue in the world

(Photos by Taylor Bruce, Tanner Latham, and Robin Weekley)

I was 15 when, as a high school player from Georgia, I first visited Rickwood Field in Birmingham. Forever afterwards, no ballpark experience matched up. None. Suiting up for a game in America's oldest ballpark is the apex. But watching the game from the scoreboard heights might be a close second.

After seeing the Birmingham Barons play the Jacksonville Suns in the annual Rickwood Classic Thursday, I'm convinced I've reached the pinnacle of farm league baseball experiences.

(Photo by Lisa Shaw)

If you're on the lookout for a healthy meal, low in saturated fat and cholesterol, I'm afraid I can't recommend the Catfish Landing in Childersburg, Alabama. But if you're in the mood for some solid Southern fried catfish and homemade slaw and hush puppies, check out this quaint little stop on the banks of the Coosa River approximately 35 miles outside Birmingham.

(Photos courtesy of Curtis Palmer)

Tomorrow marks my favorite day in the city of Birmingham, Alabama. It is the day Rickwood Field, America's oldest ballpark, comes back to life with the sights, sounds, and smells of baseball. The crack of maple. Venders chanting out sales of hot dogs and peanuts and ice cold sodas. Young players stretching singles into a hard-won doubles. The Rickwood Classic makes grown men become boys again.

"Jerusalem in Miniature"

When I first stumbled upon the Ave Maria Grotto, a vast collection of miniature religious sculptures in Cullman, Alabama, I almost dismissed it as mere Southern kitsch. The "Jerusalem in Miniature," however, deserves a closer look. So if you're driving down I-65 on a Sunday afternoon, take an hour to enjoy this thoughtful and contemplative collection.

The flowers are stunning, the weather’s divine, and the Grand Hotel is better than ever. Come on down to the coast.

In the Gulf South, L.A. stands for Lower Alabama. Seasonal delights appear at every bend, especially along the coastline circling Mobile Bay. Two venerable attractions promise to brighten up your visit with flowers, fun, and a sense of wonder.

Bellingrath Gardens and Home

(Photos by John O’Hagan)

(Photo by Tanner Latham)

Kyle Busch burned up the track at the Aaron's 499 on Sunday, but that wasn't the only thing on fire around there this weekend.

A hazy smoke hung over the air at Talladega Superspeedway when I drove past it Friday afternoon. My first and ignorant thought was that there might be a forest fire.

I live in Birmingham. In fact, all of us editors live here. And one of the city’s lesser-known treasures, even to travel writers, plays jazz every Wednesday night at a little Crestline neighborhood café called the Open Door. His name is Cleveland Eaton. Cleve was Count Basie’s last standup bass player, which makes him a living legend in jazz circuits, and the Alabama Music Hall of Fame inducted him to their Montgomery space barely two months ago. I first met Cleve two years ago when, researching a feature story for another magazine, I covered the Birmingham vanguard of players, several of whom drop in on the Wednesday night jams.

(Portrait by Jason Wallis)