A Winter's Tale at the Railyard Brewing Co.

While walking from my office to the parking lot recently a snowflake landed on my cheek and, like most Southerners, I immediately forgot how to drive.  I came upon the lot where I saw several things with rubber wheels and realized it would not be prudent for me to try to operate one of them when snowflakes were falling in the Gump and Rich Thomas had on his Depend's in preparation for a long night of “severe” weather.  So I did the only rational thing I knew to do: I walked straight for the Railyard Brewing Company across from Riverwalk Stadium and ordered a draft beer crafted right here in Rivercity and pondered “global warming” or as you now hear it described: “climate change.”

Mmm, how do you spell "Meister"?

As I sat at the bar gazing over the stainless steel vats out the window at the occasional snowflake, I listened as head brewer Kade Miller conversed about beers of the world with a military customer who had been in Germany.  They sampled several beers and “seasonal brews” with names I cannot recall but sounded like: Alvin Holmes’ "Uncle Tom Amber” or Scott Beason’s "Dark Aborigine" as I devoured my favorite RBC lunch item: the fried chicken club sandwich (which they may not still serve based upon the latest menu).  I felt a warm toasty glow as the yard bird and beer worked their magic in my gullet.  All seemed well.  I was safe and warm.  I bathed in the smell of hot specialty burgers.

But there upon on one of the flat screens above the bar stood a smiling Weather Channel “meteorologist,” wearing their North Face jacket with that unnecessary microphone firmly in hand excitedly pointing out the number of drivers sliding on the ice in Atlanta with cutaway shots of tires spinning and underdressed chubby people trying to push those big things with rubber wheels. The closed captioning streaming below read something like: “The Polar Vortex is the result of global warming….”

I ordered a “Flat Tire” or "Fat Tire" and pondered the years of over exaggerated and breathless dire warnings I had heard from television meteorologists coupled with their recent inability to be able to accurately predict the arrival of one winter storm in Birmingham Alabama and the havoc that ensued.  “OK,” I said to myself, “Let’s say I buy the whole idea that we can change the climate.”  I then interrupted the brewmaster and customer and said: “Gentlemen, if we control the climate shouldn’t we take a vote on whether we want it to be warmer or colder.  I mean, who gets to screw with the thermostat?”  They looked at me and smiled so I finished my thought.  “By golly, if I get to vote on what we do to the climate, I vote WARMER.”  By then, the group around the bar had become aware of my pronouncements and smiled. “Hell Yeah!” said one guy with an Alabama logo on his hat.  But another guy said, “But hey, what about the sea level?” That was a question I was ready for.  “Man, didn’t you see they just found an ancient Cypress forest in the Gulf of Mexico in about 60 feet of water?  Looks like the sea level is always changing.  Even if I lived on the coast I would hope in 200 years I could adapt to a rise of a foot or two.”

Somebody bought me another beer, a “Butt Face Amber Ale”, the irony of which I appreciated as I turned my gaze up to Channel 12’s Rich Thomas telling me to stay off the roads.  That is good advice for Southern drivers 100% of the time. By this time, after a great sandwich and some fine beer, I realized that Rich was finally right.  Even a blind meteorologist finds a bad storm every now and then.

Brunch in the Gump at Sinclair's in Old Gumperdale

In 1992 a successful group of businessmen, not unlike myself, took what at one time was a Sinclair gas station and started a "bistro" restaurant at 1051 E. Fairview called Sinclair's. As one brought to the gump from abroad at the tender age of five years, I have vague but happy memories of riding my bicycle down to 10-cent Saturday matinees at the Capri and filling my tires with air at the Sinclair station.

The movies and summer days at Cloverdale Community Center under the watchful eye and "board" of Coach Sellers taught me the ways of the South in the late 50s and early 60s in a place that was, from the standpoint of a crew-cut young chap with a funny accent, an idyllic place to grow up. Saturday's were particularly magical times when you could get on your trusty bike in the morning, with baseball cards clothes-pinned to your spokes and a small sack lunch in hand and spend all of the long summer day jumping on trampolines (without nets); boxing with oversize gloves, playing whiffle-ball and basketball in the gym and Stratego and other board games while you listed to "Paperback Writer" on the juke box. All which brings me to the present with a similarly satisfying Saturday Brunch down memory lane in cozy Sinclairs in Old Cloverdale.

This Saturday, while the Global Warming snow melted away, I popped into Sinclairs during their "Weekend Brunch" window (11 a.m. to 2:30 p.m.) and, as an executive, ordered the "Executive Eggs" for $8.50 with a complimentary glass of Champagne or Mimosa. What I received were two poached eggs with bacon on my favorite English Muffins with a salty and delicious Hollandaise sauce. The eggs were sided by what you Southerners call "hash browns" but which looked liked chunky potatoes cooked with onions and peppers to me. Together they warmed me cockles as the Mimosa allowed the warm memories of my youth to flood over me. Why, looking out of the window I could almost see and smell Joe's Deli (pastrami burger) and the Cloverdale Pharmacy (fresh donuts) right across East Fairview.

I am well aware that "foodies" would find the fare at Sinclair's to be less than edgy. But I would ask the same food critics to name me all of the non-chain restaurants you know in the Gump that are still popular after 18 years. Longevity is some indication of quality control. And the quality at Sinclairs is rather consistent even if only slightly better than average. Their menu is very diverse--maybe too much going on--but everything is reasonably priced and the service is usually good.

Those of you who grew up in the Northern Territories and feel stuck in the Gump will not share my experience at Sinclairs. Nevertheless, I would recommend the Weekend Brunch in the Old Cloverdale location without hesitation as a good and friendly place to eat where you will usually see some of your own expatriates. Just don't mess with the "Hatman" on the trivia game.

"Luke...I sense a disturbance in the Force": The Hotel Talisi Burns

Today they could be excused for overcooking the chicken

After four days of an L-Tryptophan turkey coma, no LITG member was prepared to do anything but eat left-over turkey sandwhiches while they pondered "The Butterfly Effect," you know: that theory that says that if you bop a baby seal in the head with a stick in Canada it causes a Puffin in Ireland to fly into a boiling pot.

THIS CAUSES THIS:

Well, today we felt the unseen waves caused by a disruption in the Fried Chicken Force that surrounds the Gump when we learned of the tragic fire that has damaged an icon of buffet lunchage: The Hotel Talisi. Who among you--if you are a true MontGumphrian--has not heard of nor eaten fried chicken or banana pudding at the Hotel Talisi in Tallassee? Who among you has not marvelled at the tacky victorian furniture in the lobby (that probably served as kindling) or wondered what it would be like to actually stay there overnight? (Do you know anyone anyone who actually stayed there overnight?)

Well say what you wish about Man-Made Global Warming E-mail hoaxes or The Butterfly Effect, we Gumpers all sensed a disturbance in the Force today. And although it did not affect the Gump proper, we all felt a little lower than our overeating during the Holidays and extra poundage could explain. I, for one, believe it was at least partially due to the effect of the loss--hopefully temporary--of our compatriate luncheon spot to the Northeast. We all hope the grande dame of grease will rise from these ashes to once again serve some of the best Southern Cookin' in these parts. At least, hope springs eternal when lunch is involved.

Update: 12/21/09: It's Worse Than We Thought....

Was visiting the River Region north of the Gump Sunday and snapped this picture of the Hotel Talisi, or what's left of it.  A return doesn't look promising, especially in this financial climate.