Tag Archives: Baldwin County

Fairhope + Point Clear: Part 2, Old Favorites

Hesitant to leave the tranquil environment of the French Quarter Chateau in downtown Fairhope, it was time to move on to the next stop – the Grand Hotel, a few miles down the bay in Point Clear. But there were a few hours to fill prior to check-in and I started at the Warehouse, an eatery I wasn’t aware of until Allison’s enthusiastic recommendation. It’s a big room, crowded and friendly, with a big menu, serving breakfast all day and lunch. I ordered a memorable shrimp and grits, with Conecuh sausage added, that I wanted to reorder as soon as I finished my first serving. It became a new “must-go” on my already crowded list of essential Eastern Shore dining rooms (Warehouse Bakery & Donuts).

Warehouse, Fairhope

There was an urge to stay and sample more of the Warehouse menus, but I had promised myself a drive around Baldwin County before returning to the already familiar Grand. Silverhill is a small town a few miles out of Fairhope; I have enjoyed the short drive to Silverhill past pecan orchards and farmland in the past and pegged it as a good place to start. When I arrived at the main intersection in Silverhill, a woman was standing on a park bench doing what looked like modern interpretive dance. Perhaps it was modern dance – or maybe it was a very Westernized and dramatic version of tai chi. Whatever it was, it was a momentary distraction on a slow chilly morning and the woman looked content.

Moving past Silverhill, I realized that I have not been to the southernmost point of Baldwin County at the Gulf of Mexico in about fourteen years and headed south through towns I have passed through and occasionally stopped at throughout my life. Crossing into Gulf Shores, I headed east toward Gulf State Park and parked near the beach. The deserted beach was a pleasant place for a brief, bracing walk.

After a drive past the dunes, trails, and waterways of the park, it was time to head back toward Fairhope and Point Clear. The back roads took me to Bon Secour, Magnolia Springs, and Weeks Bay – places I have lingered before and will linger again. Along the way, I saw a couple of satsuma trees so loaded with the fruit that the branches were sagging to the ground. It was a good reminder that I had not yet stopped for a bag of satsumas at my regular place, Harrison Farms on Highway 98 (not to be confused with Harrison Fruit Farm in Chilton County – my peach source).

As usual, the Harrisons had the truck parked on the highway with the big SATSUMAS NOW! sign and bags of fruit lining the truck bed. It is on the honor system so I picked my sack of fruit, put money in the box, and went on my way. Because of unusually warm temperatures, the outside was greener than usual, but the fruit inside was as orange, juicy, and tasty as always. Down the road, a stop at B&B Pecan Company and then it was on to the Grand.

As I get older, I am more and more a creature of ritual and tradition. In my first days in Fairhope, I intentionally steered clear of Point Clear where the Grand Hotel Spa and Resort is located. I did not want to spoil the moment of arrival at the Grand’s gates. Finally, satsumas and pecans in tow, it was time to check in. Normally, when I make my December trip to the Grand, it is very quiet. On this arrival, the place was packed as people took in the Christmas decorations on the grounds, the gingerbread village in the lobby, and all the things the Grand has to offer for the holidays. My peace and quiet came when I got to my preferred room (I have been staying in the same room for years) and caught the last color of the recent sunset off to the west from my balcony.

I dressed for a dinner reservation at Southern Roots, the Grand’s more formal dining room. When I got there, there was a course of Murder Point oysters calling my name. My preferences from a year ago had been noted by the attentive manager, Susan Margaretha; this is one of many reasons that I must stay at the Grand every December. When I ordered the grouper dish, the server explained that the sauce had changed from when I had the dish a year ago and that she suspected I would like the change; she was right.

After a sumptuous meal at Southern Roots and a walk through the lagoon gardens back to my room, I sat for a while on the balcony, read for a while in the room, and went to sleep early. This Mobile Bay trip had been designated for pure rest and relaxation. My balconies got a workout.

The next morning was my annual morning massage at the Grand spa with Claudia. She and I tried to figure out how many years this December ritual – a morning warm stone massage with Claudia – has been going on. We settled on fifteen years, at least. I look forward to it all year.

I usually linger in the spa’s Quiet Room after the massage, but this year I had an inspiration. After my eager consumption of Murder Points over the past few years – and singing their praises to anyone who might listen – I should go to the source since it was only about an hour away. So, I scuttled my plan for a quiet day of reading at the Grand, ate the West Indies Salad I had taken out from Southern Roots the night before (perfect lunch after a massage), set the GPS for Murder Point Oysters in Bayou La Batre, and headed across the causeway toward Mobile.

Over the years I have travelled through Bayou La Batre a couple of times; I have heard of it most of my life, mainly because of the annual Blessing of the Fleet every spring. As a traveler at the Grand reminded me, it was also the home of Bubba Gump Shrimp. When I reached the fishing village about an hour before sunset, the Murder Point Oysters shop was the target. Set just off the bayou, the store is full of oyster and seafood-themed products and you can buy oysters on the half-shell – even just a single one – for a fresh taste. Click this: Murder Point Oyster Company. Now, if that doesn’t inspire you to go out and eat a dozen oysters, I guess you’re not an oyster lover (not that there’s anything wrong with that).

I had hoped to go in search of those oyster beds. Whenever I am dining out at a seafood place, I request Murder Points. It is not just that they are an Alabama family-grown product, but they are quite simply the best-tasting oysters I have ever had – buttery and clean, with a nice pop of salt at the end. But it was getting late in the Bayou and time to head back to Point Clear. The oyster beds will still be there next time.

Bayou La Batre

Back at Point Clear and a mile down the road from the Grand, the Wash House has been a special place for a great dinner since I began this annual pilgrimage. I usually save it for the final night of the trip and have had memorable Wash House meals with friends many times over the years. There were no Murder Point oysters, but a silky she-crab soup was a delicious starter to a final dinner of this edition of my December respite.

Early enough the next morning – after a good sleep and coffee on the balcony, watching groundskeepers at the lagoon, guests heading over for breakfast, and children feeding ducks made it hard to leave. But leave I did, with festive thoughts of another restful getaway to the coast and ready to brave the busy highway north.

A refreshing trip to Mobile Bay. I highly recommend it – even, and maybe especially — in December.

AL225: December 2023

Notes from Waning Days

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“… if someone knocks on your door, invite them in, and it’ll be Christmas.” – Garrison Keillor

It’s December already and I spent the month of November trying to write an essay that never quite happened. Opening the blinds on this first weekend morning of the new month, the sky is a pastel and hazy blue and the sun is shining intermittently. A gentle breeze animates the chimes as seven mourning doves line the fence waiting for a turn at a bird feeder. Some hesitant leaves still remain on trees, although the Rose of Sharon finally shed its last leaf and its barren limbs reveal abandoned bird nests that we never knew were there. A cardinal perches in a tree above the doves, awaiting a free space at the feeder, where the bird seed is damp, but still edible, apparently. I’ll replenish it in a while.

Earlier in the week, we went to the cemetery to exchange fall decorations for Christmas at the grave of my father and other family. My father’s parents and his brother who was killed in the Korean Conflict are buried across the sprawling urban cemetery from my dad. Just down from their graves is the grave of a Union soldier who fought for the 27th Massachusetts Infantry in the Civil War before this city even existed.

Based on the marker, James Wallace served in the war as a young man and died and was buried in Birmingham in 1933. The ground under his stone has sunk; I tried to reset the stone for years. Now, I’ve given up and it lies on the ground, but we always keep a fresh American flag there, a habit begun by my brother years ago.

I’m afraid the waning daylight hours of autumn dampen my spirits – I’m a warm weather, long days guy – but the holidays provide an effort and energy that help to sustain me. And I know that by the time winter and Christmas come, the daylight will slowly, minute by minute, begin to extend on its trudge to spring.

Little things brighten the days. While shopping for my Christmas wreath at a favorite garden shop, a group was busily working to decorate trees for the shop’s Christmas decoration and delivery service. The infectious beats of Latin urbano music, mixed with animated chatter and frequent laughter, couldn’t help but bring a smile.

My Christmas cards went out right on schedule and my annual escape to Mobile Bay for a few days of rest is scheduled for a week from now. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that circumstances will permit me to go.

I’ve written about my Christmas card ritual for many years. The photo of a historic Alabama church – usually rural, wooden, and white – has been the standard for my cards for a couple of decades now. I suspect there are some, who don’t pay a lot of attention, who might think that I send the exact same card every year, but for those who care, I know it’s appreciated.

A few times I have tried to bend the tradition a little. I sent a card with a live oak one year, with a dock on Mobile Bay another (maybe my favorite of all my photos), and, once, with the ornate interior of a cathedral. Each time, I got feedback along the lines of The card was nice but I prefer your little white country churches.

This year’s card has an interesting backstory. On my first morning of retreat in Baldwin County in December of ’21, I went looking for historic churches to photograph. On the way back to the hotel from Swift Presbyterian Church near Foley, my car suddenly sent up alarms and ran hot. After a call to AAA and a tow to a mechanic, I had to take a half hour cab ride through the Baldwin County countryside to the hotel and wait until the next day to take the hotel shuttle to Foley to pick up my car. The shuttle driver turned out to be an actor and we ended up talking about movies on the drive back to the garage; the shuttle drive seemed much shorter than the previous day’s cab ride.

Swift Presbyterian Church

So this year’s card will always make me recall a challenging day that turned out fine. This year has been a challenge, too, but there’s hope that it will all turn out fine.

So we beat on …

October Waning

South of the Salt Line

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Fairhope, AL. I first learned the phrase “south of the Salt Line” from the great boulevardier and Mobile native Eugene Walter, who is worthy of his own post and will get one from me soon enough. It was Walter’s contention, based on growing up in his beloved Mobile, that “folks who live below Alabama’s salt line are a little crazy.”

He means “crazy” in a good way. Walter’s philosophy is extensive but it has to do with the belief that Southerners who live with ocean salt in the air tend to be a little less uptight, reserved, and conservative. He felt it applied to people in south Alabama, the Mississippi coast, and the environs of New Orleans in particular. I hope he’s right because whenever I travel down this way, regardless of the weather, I like to roll down the window and breathe a little of the salt air. It frees me up, somehow. On the other hand, there are a lot of Republicans down here.

An added benefit of my annual sojourns to the Grand Hotel in Point Clear is my proximity to the chain of little Baldwin County towns south of the Salt Line along the Eastern Shore of Mobile Bay. When I hit the northeastern start of the Bay, I travel through Spanish Fort, Daphne, Montrose, and Fairhope prior to my arrival in Point Clear and The Grand on Scenic Hwy. 98. Continuing past The Grand along Scenic 98 to regular 98, I cross the Fish River and Weeks Bay and arrive in Magnolia Springs.

I could spend my entire vacation on the grounds of the Grand and in the environs of Point Clear, but explorations of the surrounding communities make the trip richer and even more special. I like to contrast Baldwin County’s Eastern Shore with a popular stretch of Highway 30-A in the Florida panhandle that has become a mecca for striving professionals. The village of Seaside is lovely and had the best intentions but its appeal and success have caused a desecration of 30-A in many ways. The once undeveloped byway is now congested with developments, each seeing how they might out-pastel and out-gentrify the other. 30-A developers slash the landscape and then build homes and business districts evocative of the turn of the previous century, causing gridlock, exorbitant prices, and desecration of a once pristine local landscape. The towns of Alabama’s Eastern Shore naturally have the authenticity and character that all of those Seaside-inspired communities struggle mightily to achieve.

Fairhope, Alabama, was founded in 1894 as a utopian “single tax” colony. Historically, it was a place that encouraged progressive free thinking. The downtown is thriving with locally-owned businesses and the area is a draw for artists and writers. There are art galleries, specialty shops, antiques, and other treasures throughout the walkable downtown which is beautifully and seasonably landscaped year-round. Page and Palette (www.pageandpalette.com) is a particularly fine independent bookstore. The Kiln (www.thekilnstudio.com) is a ceramics gallery and studio that I never fail to visit and usually I walk out with new items for gifts or for my ceramics collection. Owner/artist Susie Bowman has beautiful tastes and a beautiful shop.

Over time, I have found my favorite Fairhope eateries at each end of the price spectrum.

Last night I had another great meal at Camellia Café in downtown Fairhope (www.camelliacafe.com). Chef Ryan Glass presents an impressive array of fine dining options in a cozy and relaxed setting. Down the street from Camellia Café on Section Street is Master Joe’s (www.masterjoessushi.com), a startlingly fine sushi place in the middle of fried fish territory.

Other great options downtown include Panini Pete’s (www.paninipetes.com), a bustling place that spills out into an attached conservatory and onto the courtyard of Fairhope’s French Quarter shopping district. I love the muffaletta panini but everything on the menu is worth a try. In a new downtown location – or new to me, anyway – is Dragonfly Foodbar (www.dragonflyfoodbar.com). “Foodsmith” Doug Kerr presents an ever-changing menu of creative small plates, bowls, and tacos. Dragonfly continually offers fine dining dishes at affordable prices in a dive-y setting. Now that they have moved from the former hot dog stand location on Fairhope Avenue to larger digs on Church Street the wait is no longer hours like it used to be.

Farther out, Wintzell’s (www.wintzellsoysterhouse.com), with a Fairhope location just down scenic 98 from The Grand, is a Mobile establishment that has branched out with a handful of locations on the coast and farther inland. It provides a large variety of seafood options with its signature Gulf oysters served “fried, stewed, or nude.” Wintzell’s is usually the destination on my first night in the area, a familiar and comfortable place after a long drive.

Market by the Bay (www.marketbythebay.com) has added a Fairhope location to complement its original location in Daphne. I like to order the Market’s shrimp po’ boy that has so much shrimp in it that I have started calling it “box full o’ shrimp.” The Market’s location in Daphne is a great seafood market in addition to a cozy eatery.

Closer to The Grand in Point Clear is the Wash House restaurant (www.washhouserestaurant.com). The Wash House is located in a rustic building, part of which housed the washing facility for the large country house on the main road. I have dined alone and with friends at the Wash House on many occasions and the experience always feels like a special occasion. The restaurant is behind the old farm house that is now the home of Punta Clara Kitchen (www.puntaclara.com). Punta Clara is my local stop for pralines to carry back home. They sell all kinds of handmade specialty foods, jams, jellies, and preserves. Punta Clara Kitchen products are usually well-represented at my New Year’s Day lunch for friends.

I always enjoy traveling the expanse of Baldwin County but I usually find myself staying in the area surrounding Point Clear and The Grand resort. A short trip down the coast on Highway 98 takes me through huge pecan groves, farms, and homes. Shortly after crossing the Fish River and Weeks Bay, I arrive in the town of Magnolia Springs, which is as idyllic as its name suggests. Residents along the Magnolia River in Magnolia Springs still get mail delivered by boat to boxes on the edges of their piers. Live oaks arch over the narrow streets and I usually find myself ditching the car and taking long leisurely walks through the streets and along the river. A popular dining option in Magnolia Springs is Jesse’s (www.jessesrestaurant.com).

For those who wonder why I always return to the same place for my December getaway, it’s hard to explain the attraction of the place unless they experience it for themselves. When I first started coming down here, I felt an obligation to venture away from Point Clear and would plan side trips into Mobile, or down to Gulf Shores and Orange Beach, or over into coastal Mississippi. Eventually, I realized that it was enough – and exactly what I needed – to just come to The Grand and relax, occasionally venturing out to places that are minutes away. I feel like there is still plenty of Baldwin County to discover and explore.

With that in mind, I take a deep and relaxing breath of salt-infused air, take a left when I ought to take a right, and check out the next treasure south of the Salt Line.

Professional Southerner

Edward Journey's stream of consciousness