Eating In Memphis

Eating In Memphis
February 17th

I don’t want to leave Memphis. The food is awesome, the entertainment is non-stop and the audiences have been appreciative.

I’ll start with the food. First, I owe a debt of gratitude to Sheila Marie’s co-worker Melissa. She steered me to two of the best southern dining experiences available in Memphis: Rendezvous Charcoal Barbecue and Gus’s Famous Fried Chicken. Vegetarians beware; neither of these two places can serve you a meal. Both of them served slaw and barbecue beans (both as different as those dishes can be) and I’m pretty sure that you could get a salad at Rendezvous – but that’s not the point.

Rendezvous is justly famous for their dry-rubbed pork ribs. They are the tiniest bit sweet; with a wonderful pepperiness and they are slow-cooked to tender perfection. The sauce is served on the side in mild and hot varieties. Little dishes of slaw (mustard based and vinegary) and beans come along with the requisite white dinner rolls (to soak up sauce and scrape up any errant rub) and a sweet tea completes the experience. I’ve been twice and am going back between shows this afternoon. You approach the restaurant from an alley behind the Holliday Inn; just follow the delicious barbecue smoke that makes the hole block smell like heaven. I was literally knawing on the bones.

Gus’s Famous Fried Chicken is on a lonely block of Front Street south of the Orpheum near the Mississippi River. I had to walk in the street around a construction site (all of downtown Memphis seems to be being converted into Condos – though I have no idea who is supposed to live in them) to find it. Again, as you approach there is no mistaking the aroma of the place. We started with fried green tomatoes and fried pickles, both delicious. For the main event, the five of us (3 chorus girls, Sir Galahad and I) got the 16 piece family meal. It came with big styrofoam cups of (surprise!) beans and slaw (this time mayonnaise based and creamy/crisp) and triangles of wonder bread. The chicken was that beautiful golden brown, crisp and the sort of spicy that sneaks up on you. It was moist on the inside, blazing hot from the fryer and not greasy at all. Delicious! There was plenty left over as the pieces were all generous. I’m embarrassed to admit that I was too full to find out what “Chess Pie” is…

(I wish you could read the sign better. It says: "Today's Special: Chicken".)

On a slightly food related note, we went to Graceland yesterday. Others among us sampled the famous fried peanut butter and banana sandwich that may have been a contributing factor to the King’s health problems. They reported that it was delicious – I’m not a banana fan (except for THE banana – “Hi” Cody) so I passed. Graceland itself however, was spectacular. Seriously, I want to live in the print fabric pleated pool room. The house is surprisingly small, but delightful. The most impressive part of the tour was the trophy building: a very long hallway entirely lined with two and three rows of gold and platinum records. Then, when you get the racquetball court it, too, is filled with gold and platinum records that have all been earned posthumously. The costumes on display were also everything that you hope for. I really want to know what happened in 1969-70 that made Elvis abandon the great tailored looks he had been wearing and decide to wear nothing but various flare-legged bedazzled jumpsuits. The whole place is very reverential and sanitized. For example, the narration just says, “Unfortunately, in 1967 as Elvis’ fame increased, his marriage to Priscilla ended.” A really fun day.

Thursday, we went to Sun Studios. I had no idea what to expect, but was really surprised. Our tour guide was fantastic. He really brought the story of the place to life and even gave us a demo of Johnny Cash’s percussive guitar technique. (Country music in the 50’s was done w/o drums. The Grand Ole’ Opry wouldn’t let a drummer on stage as they saw it as a negative – read: Negro – influence on the music. So, Johnny Cash taped a dollar bill loosely around the neck of his guitar. It makes the sound that, until this week, I thought was a snare drum on Walk the Line.) There’s an “X” on the floor of the studio where Elvis was standing when he recorded his first single for Sun Records. Needless to say, everyone got a picture standing behind a microphone on that “X”.

Of course, you can’t visit Memphis w/o hitting Beale Street. When you come out the Orpheum’s stage door, you’re on the south end of that famous pub crawl. Last night we went to the Rum Boogie Café and the house band tore the place up. They covered everything from Clapton and Van Morrison to Muddy Waters and even played Green Onions on a real-deal Hammond B-3 Organ. Awesome. I still haven’t used my free pass to BB Kings – good thing I have two more nights!

Also thrown in, I’ve seen the ducks at the Peabody do their parade from elevator to lobby fountain. Very strange. The “Duck Master”, dressed in a snappy red sport coat and gleaming patent leathers, gives you a history of the Peabody duck tradition then goes up to the penthouse to collect the 5 famous residents. By this time, a sizeable crowd has gathered. A Voice Of God announcement welcomes the ducks as the elevator makes it’s was back down, then a Sousa march plays, the elevator doors open, and the ducks waddle along the red carpet, up the stairs and into the fountain. While they quack and splash, you look at all the other humans assembled and wonder why, exactly, this is a grand Memphis tradition. But, you laugh a little and then go on to something else.
I’ll wrap up with the most surreal Memphis moment. I was sitting at Quizno’s eating my salad yesterday (the most vegetables I’ve seen on a Memphis menu) looking out at Court Square. There was a man tearing up bread for the squirrels and pigeons. The squirrels were bounding across the park toward the man, but one rodent headed toward one of the trashcans on the perimeter of the park. It climbed up and into the can, disappearing down inside. Shortly after, a homeless man (there are more homeless and pan-handlers here than NYC – everywhere you go people are asking for money, and they all are “hurricane evacuees”) comes shuffling along looking into the trashcans. He comes up the squirrel’s can and leans over when the squirrel leaps out of the can and attaches itself to the man’s coat sleeve. It thrashes around while the man, obviously surprised, stumbles backward. The squirrel then jumps back into the trash. The man cautiously goes back to the can, kicks it and them moves on to the next trashcan. It was life imitating Spamalot. I would have sworn it was the killer rabbit attacking Sir Bors. Thank John Cleese; the squirrel didn’t bite off the man’s head.

JV

P.S. - I sent my first roll of film off to Snapfish and have a second ready to go. I'll add more photos once they're developed...