Tag Archives: Wash House Restaurant

Fairhope + Point Clear: Part 2, Old Favorites

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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. 

Ghosts of Evenings Past

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My friends Russell and Janet died recently. But that’s not what this is about. It’s about what we do in life and how we’re remembered by those who know us.

I met Janet Gray and Russell Luke, a couple of theatre professionals, when I took a job at a theatre in Jackson, Mississippi. They were a delightful couple. Janet was lovely and intense, and Russell reminded me of Tennessee Williams, whose plays he loved. He also shared my affinity for Eugene Walter. By the time I moved to Jackson, Janet had already left and was working as a costume designer and professor at a university in South Carolina.

My time in Jackson was brief. Russell, a director and stage manager, moved on to South Carolina to teach and be with Janet. I moved on to a gig at Alabama Shakespeare Festival. In those days, Alabama Shakespeare Festival was a repertory theatre and I would host Janet and Russell when they arrived for a few days each summer to catch the rep.

We also ran into each other every March at the Southeastern Theatre Conference (SETC) convention. It was held in a different city each year and we usually managed at least one meal together.  Over time, we formalized our annual meal to a dinner on Saturday, the last night of the convention, finding just the right combination of menu and ambiance in a variety of Southern cities.

Kitty and Patty, my friends from graduate school, also attended the theatre conference annually, representing their college in Florida. We quickly became a group of five and our Saturday night dinners became a cherished tradition that eventually – for me, at least – superseded the week’s other activities.

At each of these meals, Russell would quietly excuse himself toward dinner’s end. He would just as quietly return. A few minutes later, a server would arrive with a tray of five Brandy Alexanders for the table. This was Russell’s annual parting gesture for the group. The evening ended with a toast and a vow to reconvene a year later in another city.

Twice during those years, the convention was held in Mobile. On Saturday night, the five of us piled into my car and headed across Mobile Bay to the Eastern Shore. The first of our Eastern Shore dinners was at the Wash House, a restaurant in Point Clear. The by-now requisite tray of Brandy Alexanders appeared to end the evening.

This tradition went on for years. The last time the five of us gathered together was at the convention in Louisville in 2020. Janet had some health problems, but the prognoses seemed promising. It was a lovely, relaxing evening, culminating in a tray of Brandy Alexanders and a promise to do it again in Memphis in 2021.

The next week, everything shut down for COVID-19.

During the pandemic, there was no 2021 convention. I kept up with Russell about Janet’s health problems. There were challenges but Russell always assured me that they were doing “okay.”

In March 2022, SETC finally had its on-site Memphis convention. Kitty and Patty were unable to come and our group of five became three. I had retired and was rotating off the SETC magazine editorial board and had announced that 2022 would be my final SETC. At the restaurant on Saturday night, Russell did his usual disappearing act, Brandy Alexanders arrived, and we toasted our missing friends, Kitty and Patty. As the dessert course wound down, Russell said he felt like we should order one more round in honor of my last SETC.

After that final SETC, Janet began to have more serious health problems. Russell was dealing with health issues, too, although he never said much about it. In our final communication, in late-spring 2023, Russell said they were preparing to go to a reception in honor of Janet’s retirement and that things were going “as well as can be expected.” SETC will be in Mobile in 2024 and Russell said that he and Janet were discussing coming down if they were able. Since I wouldn’t be attending, he suggested I come down anyway and we could go to the Eastern Shore for dinner on Saturday night. I promised to think about it.

While running errands on November 14, I received word that Russell had died that day and that Janet had preceded him in death on October 18.

When I notified Kitty and Patty, Kitty had the perfect remembrance:

Our Saturday nights at SETC were always so special. Their twinkling wicked wits, dry humor, and genuine warmth made them such good company. I hope they are together teasing, needling and ribbing one another at this very moment. I’ll picture them that way for sure.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

I am in Point Clear this week. I had dinner at the Wash House and ordered a piece of pecan pie and a Brandy Alexander for dessert. Two ladies at a table across from me asked what I was having. The Wash House pecan pie needed no explanation, but I explained that the Brandy Alexander was in honor of a couple of friends who had recently passed away, that we always ended our meals together with a Brandy Alexander and that one of those special meals had been at the Wash House.

“What were their names?” asked one of the ladies. When I told their names, the ladies raised their glasses in unison.

“Here’s to Janet and Russell,” they said. Janet and Russell would be pleased.

Breathe

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On the day before I leave for my annual December pilgrimage to Point Clear, I notice an online horoscope for my sign that reads

A strong craving for solitude tempts you to ask people to leave you alone today. Many animals hibernate for the sake of rest and revitalization; you’re not purposely pushing anyone away to hurt their feelings … Let everyone know you are not vanishing from their lives; you just need more sleep. This is one of those occasions when cuddling with your individuality rejuvenates the beast within…

I do not put much stock in astrology, but occasionally a horoscope – like a fortune cookie – will hit the nail on the head (not sure how I feel about rejuvenating “the beast within,” however).

I have made this December trip so many times that there is no longer pressure. I’ve thoroughly explored the landscape down here and don’t feel a need to venture forth too much if I don’t want to.

On this drive down, I am weary.

There is a time in that drive when I exit I-65 South onto AL 225 toward Spanish Fort. Taking that exit, I breathe. I open the car window to breathe in that air “below the salt line.” The air is brisk and chill and I savor its tonic.

By the time I drive through the gates of the Grand Hotel (www.grand1847.com), I am calm and relaxed. After checking in at the gate, driving onto the grounds, I hear the gate attendant say “Mr. Journey is here. He’s driving a gray Ford.”

Although I have heard the prompt, it pleases me when the valet opens my door with a warm “Welcome back, Mr. Journey.” I used to be a professional director and stage manager and I appreciate that attention to detail.

The low pre-winter sunset is intense on my balcony as I unpack and settle in for the all too brief pre-Christmas respite. The afternoon cannon firing at bayside occurs just as I open the balcony doors of my room in the spa building.

On a late afternoon stroll around the lagoon, with holiday lights beginning to flicker on, the squawking ducks, clamoring for food, distract me from the great blue heron standing like a statue just a few feet away. I have just enough time to snap a photo of the stately bird before he glides across the water, landing on the other side with a fish in tow which he quickly ingests.

This year, the lighting in the lagoon area has taken on a theme of arches, with Christmas trees sprinkled liberally along the walkways. In addition to archways scattered throughout the area, the natural arches created by the dipping branches of the ancient live oaks are dramatically accented along the way. The three fountains that dot the lagoon spray up like magnificent sparklers. The effect at dusk, with the golden lights illuminating the dripping Spanish moss and the silver lights on the fountains, is as magical as any magic I’m willing to believe in at this stage of life.

My annual Christmas present to myself – a warm stone massage with Claudia – is scheduled for my first morning at the Grand. I arrive at the spa early to relax in the calm of the quiet room and to catch up on news of my favorite attendants; Al Agee retired a couple of months ago after many decades at the Grand, and J.C., who was off that day, is still around. Michael, the attendant on duty, is a charming character and – like Al and J.C. – he has good stories to share.

I have described my massage with Claudia as “the shortest eighty minutes of my year.” On several occasions during the session, I hear myself expel a deep breath, often as bundles of nerves and tension begin to fade away.

Is it any wonder that I spend my year anticipating this annual respite?

With the Grand resort’s recent upgrades and renovation, the new Southern Roots restaurant is a most welcome addition, providing an inventive, locally-oriented menu featuring locally-sourced produce, seafood, meats, and desserts. The mixologists provide an inventive daily inspiration in the adjoining 1847 Bar. Everything is exceptional. I normally go out for dinner when I stay at the Grand but will be taking more meals on-site now.

Down the road in Fairhope, Dragonfly Foodbar continues to offer an inventive menu of tastes fueled by Asian and Mexican influences. I seat myself in a dining room at Dragonfly that is between two more crowded rooms and amuse myself with the interesting juxtaposition of music coming from each side. As one room plays classic rock, the other plays upbeat holiday tunes. This results in vivid aural contrasts: “It’s Raining Men” competes with “Carol of the Bells” followed by Elton John singing “Tiny Dancer” on my left with “Sleigh Ride” bouncing along to my right.

I tell the server that the random musical contrasts are pretty trippy. “Yeah,” she smiles, “I kinda love it.”

The trippy music trend continues later in the trip as I am sitting at 1847. Elvis Presley’s rendition of “Winter Wonderland” is playing in Southern Roots while, across the Grand Hall at the Bayside Grill, a live musician performs Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah.” And I would swear that I simultaneously hear The Supremes’ “The Happening” ghosting in from somewhere in the distance.

The Wash House (www.washhouserestaurant.com), a long-time favorite just down the road from the Grand, is bustling with holiday and birthday celebrations on the night I am there. I decide at the last minute to dine at the more quiet bar tucked away to the side of the main dining room. Seafood is always fresh and local at the Wash House.

The next night, at Camellia Café (www.camelliacafe.com), I start my meal with a half dozen Isle Dauphine oysters from west Mobile Bay near Dauphin Island. These tasty oysters are harvested not far from where my current favorite Murder Point bivalves originate near Bayou La Batre.

Interspersed among my dining experiences are drives around the bay, the search for interesting landscapes and architecture, and the opportunity to photograph favorite spots, both new and old. The dock at one of the city parks along Scenic 98 has long been a favorite. Later, I pull up to Harrison Farms on the main highway for bags of satsumas, to B&B Pecan Co. for local pecans, and to Punta Clara Candy Kitchen for preserves to include in the traditional New Year’s Day meal.

The Sacred Heart Chapel, just down the road from the Grand, is a small church from 1880 facing the bay. It’s closed in the winter, but its grounds provide a pleasant stroll. It’s a quiet spot that has seen its share of hurricanes and battering weather over almost a century and a half, with a porch that is a good spot to rest and take a breath.

The final full day is a special one – although rain persists throughout the day. Early, I go down to Bucky’s, the hotel’s stalwart lounge in the main building, and enjoy West Indies salad, a Mobile original – a chilled salad of crabmeat, chopped onions, oil and vinegar, and seasoning. Later, I return to Bucky’s to join friends Deborah, Jeana, and Emily for a generous and delicious serving of fried crab claws that takes us all back to memories of Grand visits in the past. Emily, who manages a Mexican restaurant near Mobile, introduces me to the Paloma.

On that final evening, I join the Brunson family at Allison and Richard Brunson’s home on the bay. As soon as the front door opens, the aromas of homemade gumbo have filled the house. It’s lovely to sit at table with my friends and their family. As the only one around the table who is not a Mobile native, I enjoy hearing the reminiscences of long-ago days of a Mobile childhood. After an exceptionally delicious slice of Allison’s pecan pie for dessert, I go back to the hotel to rest for my rainy drive back to Birmingham in the morning.

All of these moments go into my storehouse of Christmas memories.

After checking out of the hotel, I have one more errand before I hit the road: I stop at Market by the Bay (www.marketbythebay.com) on the way through Daphne and pick up a shrimp po’boy to go. Back in the car, I put the open-faced sandwich on the passenger seat beside me and pop succulent fried shrimp as I drive. The sandwich is gone by the time I get to I-65, take a breath, and merge onto the crowded highway.

Breathe. And savor the holidays.

Notes from the Point – 2017

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Point Clear, Alabama. The long etymology of the word “vacation” seems to suggest that it’s more about what you’re leaving behind than where you’re going.

That works for me.

I have been making an annual pre-Christmas getaway to the Grand Hotel in Point Clear, Alabama, just down the eastern shore of Mobile Bay from Fairhope, for about fifteen years (www.marriottgrand.com). There is a time on the trip down from north Alabama when I forget that I have a job and that is one of the rewards, for me, of any sort of vacation time.

The first time I came to the Grand there was a rare hard freeze and it was miserable outside during my short stay. Even so, I wandered the resort grounds, explored the public walkway that runs between the bay-front houses and the water, ate some great meals in area restaurants, and decided that a December tradition had instantly begun.

Most Decembers the weather is milder; occasionally it’s tee-shirt and shorts weather. This time it’s somewhere in between – slightly chilly with a warm front threatening to bring some rain before my visit is over.

The drive down seemed better than usual; traffic was just right and my spirits were heightened by the results of the recent special election for an Alabama U.S. Senate seat. For a change, Alabama voters came through; I will be embarrassed again by Alabama politicians and Alabama voters – and soon, probably – but for the holidays I am going to cherish and savor the current hopeful moment. Everything looked brighter and more beautiful on the drive down. I always love my home state, but this week it looks brighter than usual. Maybe it’s my imagination, but people seemed friendlier.

Near the end of the drive, at a traffic light in Fairhope on a Friday afternoon, two women shoppers burst into spontaneous dance to the holiday pop music piped in from a street speaker. When they got their signal to walk, they beamed brightly and continued to dance across the street, doubling over with laughter as they reached the sidewalk.

It’s easy to forget that the 2017 hurricane season was brutal but I was reminded as I drove down Scenic 98 and saw that every pier along the waterfront was damaged by Hurricane Nate, including a public pier that I have photographed many times.

The Grand itself is undergoing a massive (non-hurricane-related) property-wide renovation and upon arrival I passed barricaded construction sites. The main building is completely closed. Upon check-in I was told that my usual room on the top floor of the Spa Building was not available. After some searching and discussion, a manager determined that it was available and, if I’m not mistaken, I am the first guest in that room post-renovation.

After staying all over the Grand property in my first years coming here, I honed in on my favorite room and I have vowed to stick with it. It is on the top floor of the tallest building and faces out over the lagoon and property. From the balcony, one can view the property with the bonus feature that one can also see over the live oaks and across the wide part of the Bay past Gulf Shores to the open gulf. Looking to the west, one can see across the pool to Mobile Bay just before it widens significantly at the place that gives Point Clear its name.

The footprint of my favorite room is the same but the re-model has made it seem more spacious, more luxurious, and much more contemporary. It is perfectly curated with less furniture – but what is there is more practical. In my king room, the reclining sofa against one wall with a movable tabletop is a welcome addition and one I spent hours using for rest as well as more productive activities.

The room still includes the ubiquitous Nall print – common, it seems, to all properties that are part of the Robert Trent Jones Golf Trail, but the new selection is less dense and more easily lived with.

Since the main building is closed, the Jubilee Poolside Grill in the pool pavilion has been tasked with all of the dining service for the property. The dining staff is doing a really good job with limited kitchen and dining space and I ate well there – from gumbo on arrival to a plate of peel-and-eat Gulf shrimp for my final dinner there.

After my first night’s sleep, I had an appointment for a warm stone massage at the Grand Spa at 9:00 a.m. The Spa, too, is undergoing massive renovation like the rest of the property but the attendant, J.C., who has been taking care of me since my first spa visit, and my favorite massage therapist, Claudia, are still on hand to make me feel as welcome and pampered as ever. I am not a man who indulges in many luxuries but the annual warm stone massage has become an essential part of my December holiday and I will feel no guilt for that particular indulgence.

As I drive back to the hotel after a dinner at Camellia Café (www.camelliacafe.com) in downtown Fairhope at 9-something on a Saturday night, I see a figure walking hurriedly along the sidewalk on Scenic 98. As I get closer, I realize it is Jesus in full white robe, blue under-garment, sandals, and a flowing mane. He clearly has a purpose, looking straight ahead with a determined stride. I’m not sure why Jesus would be walking quickly down Scenic 98 on a Saturday night nine days before Christmas, but the image sticks with me.

I’m sure it wasn’t really Jesus, but he definitely had something. I probably should’ve taken a picture but He didn’t look like he wanted to be disturbed.

The next morning I attended an Anglican Advent service at St. Francis at the Point (www.stfrancisatthepoint.org), a stunning modern white church building full of rich wood tones and light streaming through towering clear glass windows. The windows are decorated with magnolia leaves and white candles and a towering Christmas tree fills the arched window of the church façade. The tiny old chapel at the corner of this same church property was my Christmas card image a few years back.

I always return from Baldwin County with bags of satsumas – the efficient little citrus fruit that thrives along Mobile Bay. I heard several rumors that there was a smaller than usual satsuma crop this year and that I might not be able to find any.

The search for satsumas took me on a drizzly drive over to Silverhill, a Baldwin County town founded as a settlement by Scandinavians in the 1890s. Silverhill was a charming place – new to me – but there were no satsumas to be found.

That night, I had a rude encounter with political reality as I dined at the Wash House (www.washhouserestaurant.com), my favorite Point Clear restaurant. A loud and bitter Republican, unfortunately within earshot, was spouting excuses for his candidate’s recent loss in the Senate election. Inevitably his vitriol settled on the various accusers in the various current political and celebrity sexual misconduct scandals.

“I’m sorry they decided they didn’t have fun forty years later,” he snorted. “I’ll bet they enjoyed it back then!” He then felt the need to recount to his relatively silent male dining companion the women who could come forward to accuse himself of previous encounters; he seemed to believe there were quite a few. “I’d tell them they seemed to enjoy it at the time …” he bragged, and more.

Unfortunately, I had no volume control, but I felt privy to a new strategy of excuses for sexual misconduct. Nevertheless, my Wash House meal was still excellent, despite the abrasive live vocal soundtrack interfering with the more pleasant holiday music.

On my final full day on the bay, I visited with my friend Richard to deliver cheese straws to him and his family at their inviting home overlooking Mobile Bay. I mentioned my satsuma search and he pointed me to an orange tree full of fruit on the edge of his property, near the house of his recently deceased aunt-in-law, Bessie Montgomery – doyenne of Fairhope’s popular French Quarter shopping district. He filled me a bag of Bessie’s oranges for the road.

Thus armed, I headed over to B&B Pecan Co. on the main highway. Just before I got to B&B, a sign proclaiming “SATSUMAS Now” beckoned me to a truck bed with bags of fresh satsumas and an honor box with instructions for paying. Finally…

So our Christmas ambrosia will again be graced with Baldwin County citrus and pecans. 

After a lunch of a wild ostrich burger at Locals (www.localsburger.com), a new downtown Fairhope eatery, I headed back to the Grand and a final walk along the grounds and the Bay before a cloudy, foggy sunset. My walk coincided with the Resort’s daily military history lesson and firing of the Civil War cannon. On this particular afternoon, a boat full of rowdy boys emerged from the fog to observe the cannon firing and to play, loudly, the national anthem at the conclusion of the observance.

My final night at the Point was quiet, foggy, and peaceful. I safely harbored on the sofa, catching up on reading, with a streaming soundtrack from the “Peace, Be Still” channel on the Hearts of Space website playing in the background.

It was a good night of rest with a wet day of driving to follow, buoyed by pleasant memories of another blissful respite at Point Clear.

Merry Christmas. Peace on Earth. 

Food Memory: Bread Pudding

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I have never met two bread puddings that are exactly alike and I rarely meet one that I don’t like. When I eat at a new place and bread pudding is listed on the menu, I almost always have to try it and see what version this particular kitchen has deemed acceptable.

Some version of bread pudding shows up on the menu of many southern dining establishments and dining rooms; some are dense and cake-like and others are more loose and cobbler-like. The Bright Star in Bessemer, near Birmingham, serves a tasty bread pudding with a rich bourbon sauce. The signature dessert at the Wash House in Point Clear on Mobile Bay is a Key Lime bread pudding that doesn’t sound promising but is actually quite good. It is also huge and filling and every time I’ve ordered it I have had to request a go box. Fat Girls, a tiny little barbecue joint on Highway 82 in Billingsley, Alabama, had a terrific bread pudding but it shut its doors a few years ago.

There seem to be as many versions of bread puddings in New Orleans as there are places to eat.

I don’t recall either of my grandmothers ever making a bread pudding so I have no family recipes to honor.

But recently I had some of Mrs. London’s bread from her family kitchen over in Madison sitting around and some Chilton County peaches that were getting pretty ripe and I decided that I needed to do something about it.  Scoot’s organic eggs from the farmer’s market were in the refrigerator and I decided to see what it was like to make my own bread pudding.

I do pretty well in the kitchen but whenever I make something I’ve never made before I need to do some research before I get started. I pulled down the cookbooks and culled the bread pudding recipes and then set to work.

I followed the basics based on what I read and then set about making my own version. I must say that this is such an easy dessert to make that I’m not sure why I never thought to make it sooner; I guess I was just satisfied to order it at restaurants.

The final result bears repeating, I think, and I’ll share it for whenever the urge might hit. I was frankly thrown a little off-guard with how basic and simple it was to make a pretty good bread pudding. I guess since I never thought to make it, I never thought about the process.

Here’s what I did; I messed with it a bit and, even though raisins are pretty traditional for bread puddings, I wanted to do peaches in mine. This is a very giving recipe and anybody cooking a bread pudding should tweak it with whatever their tastes suggest.

Peach Bread Pudding with Bourbon Sauce

For the bread pudding:

1 cup milk

1 cup Half and Half

¼ cup unsalted butter

½ cup granulated sugar

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

¼ teaspoon salt

2 eggs, beaten

6 cups dry bread cubes

1 cup sliced peaches

  1. Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees.
  2. Heat milk, Half and Half, and butter over medium heat until butter is melted and milk is hot.
  3. Whisk sugar, cinnamon, salt, and eggs together.
  4. Stir in bread and peaches.
  5. Stir in milk, ½ and ½, and butter mixture.
  6. Pour it all into a 2-quart baking dish.
  7. Bake uncovered for 45 minutes.

For the bourbon sauce:

1 cup brown sugar

½ cup unsalted butter

3 tablespoons Half and Half

4 tablespoons bourbon (non-alcoholic vanilla extract may be substituted for the bourbon)

  1. In heavy sauce pan, stir and heat all sauce ingredients to boiling over medium heat until sugar dissolves. Simmer, stirring frequently.
  2. When ready to serve, spoon sauce over the warm bread pudding.

South of the Salt Line

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IMG_1004   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. IMG_0999Continuing 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.

IMG_0982Fairhope, 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.

IMG_1006 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). IMG_0980 “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. IMG_0987 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. IMG_0990 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). IMG_0997

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. IMG_0962