31 Louisville Loves: Champagne and Fancy Cakes

In April 2011, a new book club held its inaugural meeting to discuss The Net Delusion by Evgeny Morozov. Two people attended. I was not one of them, because it was raining and I would have had to drive from Shively to Norton Commons. 

A few months later, in better weather, three more people ventured out to talk about Hal Herzog’s book, Some We Love, Some We Hate, Some We Eat (I was in this group). Gradually, the group gained more people, a name, and three years later, it’s still going strong. 

In the first season of Friday Night Lights, Tami Taylor reluctantly goes to a book club meeting, where the members laugh at her when she says she enjoyed The Secret Life of Bees. 

“Oh, we don’t read the book!” 

Tami Taylor should join our Champagne and Fancy Cakes book club. We have all the stereotypical book club stuff — beer, wine, and bourbon, really good food that’s occasionally inspired by the book, gossip, AND we read the book (but we don’t judge if someone doesn’t). We also organize cool events. After reading How to Be Black, we coordinated a book club/happy hour with Baratunde Thurston while he was in town for Idea Festival. Best book club ever!

Champagne and Fancy Cakes at Rye, waiting for Mr, Thurston

19 Crimes for Orange is the New Black

I’ve kept lists of the books I read for years. When I look at my lists since 2011, I can pick out each Champagne and Fancy Cakes book and can almost remember where we met for most of them. I hosted my first meeting for Junot Diaz’s The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. We were at Erica’s when we met for 1 Dead in Attic, by Chris Rose (and when we found out Steve Jobs died). Six months later, we were back for My Korean Deli by Ben Ryder Howe, where the evening’s snacks inspired our club name. 

Picking the next book typically takes us longer than the book discussion, but we’re getting better at this. I love this part because it helps me add to my To Read list, which has a greater scope thanks to Fancy Cakes.

This book club has given me exactly what I hoped for when I joined it. I’ve revisited books from childhood (Anne of Green Gables, A Wrinkle in Time), read books I should have already read (The Things They Carried), and ones I probably would never have discovered on my own (The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks). I’ve also tried some new wine and food (Hummingbird Cake, after The Red Garden), met some authors, and made friends with smart, lovely women who let me feed them fufu after we read The Poisonwood Bible. 

Hummingbird cake

I'm not worried about finding people to discuss books with in Cambridge. Maybe they'll have snacks and drinks. But I will definitely miss my Fancy Cakes book club.  

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31 Days of Louisville Love: Crawfish Boils at Selena's

We’re about to move to a city where fresh seafood is readily available. We already ate a fantastic lobster sandwich during our quick visit, and I plan to try many more. But I’m still going to miss Selena’s crawfish boils. 

Louisville is the first place where I ate whole crawfish. I grew up in Texas and spent half a year in New Orleans, where I worked with at least one shrimper. I got invited to a pig roast and a shrimper’s ball, I ate plenty of crawfish étouffée, but I never went to a crawfish boil until Selena’s. 

A few times a year, Selena’s Restaurant at Willow Lake Tavern flies in a bunch of crawfish and shrimp (and supposedly blue crab, but I haven’t seen a notice for that yet). Since last spring, I’ve been to three of their boils and split a bucket of mudbugs with a NOLA expat, who’s a crawfish-eating-pro. She taught me how to separate the head and body (I’m not a head sucker; it’s a little salty for me), pull off the first few shell segments from the tail, and get to the tail meat. We’ve only attempted three pounds (except for the nine pounds we had with our Mardi Gras group), but I think we could probably each eat our own three-pound bucket. 

Selena’s is a out of the way, and the last two times I’ve been, the weather’s been unkind (snow and then blinding rain). But a crawfish boil’s the best way to celebrate Mardi Gras, there’s always Abita, and if you can fit it in after the crawfish, their bread pudding is fantastic. I think I should unsubscribe from their mailing list so their reminders don’t make me homesick. In the meantime, what kind of seafood-eating should I get into in Boston besides lobster rolls and clam bakes? And how do you get invited to a clam bake? 

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31 Days of Louisville Love: River City Drafthouse

Whenever something closes, it’s fun to list new, dream business that might replace it. I had to wish for tacos for a long time before El Camino arrived in the former Avalon space. When Fleur de Lis Café closed, the last thing we imagined for the space next to Cumberland Brewery was a craft beer bar. When River City Draft House opened, we were skeptical about its future. But it seems we really wanted a craft beer place next to a brewery, and we didn’t even know it. 

Before our friends moved, Drafthouse was the perfect in-between meeting spot for a beer (it’s still a perfect meeting spot, they just have to travel a bit farther now). This is another business whose name showed up a lot on my bank statements for a while. Like this winter, when we spent several Sunday afternoons there, drinking beer and reading the paper. 

Of course, the location plays a part in my love for Drafthouse. Like most of my list, it’s within walking distance of our apartment, so getting a beer there also means some exercise. Then, after a beer or two, if I feel snack-y, they have wings with a variety of sauces, or that giant pretzel. And Za’s is always across the street if the belly demands something different. 

Other things I love about River City Drafthouse — the staff are friendly and recognize us. There are games, so you can test your Jenga skills. The beer list is straightforward, and I’ve never picked a beer I didn’t like there (somehow, the more information a place offers about their beer selection, the more often I end up with something in complete defiance to my taste). They have some outdoor seating. 

During our visit to Cambridge, we had time to try Bukowski Tavern. I’ll need a few more visits before I can offer an informed review, but I don’t think that will be a problem. It’s half a mile from our new apartment.  

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31 Days of Louisville Love: ValuMarket

After the excursion to the East Market District yesterday, today I’m back with another place in my neighborhood that I will really miss — ValuMarket.

I think my love of this supermarket has a good deal to do with the fact that I can walk to it. And I walk to it a lot, sometimes multiple times a day. Yesterday, between Gabe and I, we were there three times (the moral here is that we should improve our shopping-list skills). I use my lunch break once a week to do our grocery shopping, schlepping the bags through the Mid City Mall parking lot, through the alley, and up our back stairs (after one too many times of feeling like a pack animal, I’ve learned to take a car when I have heavy items). It’s groceries and exercise! 

There’s an adjustment you go through when returning to the United States after living abroad. Maybe it’s culture shock. Maybe it’s just getting used to a wealth of options again. I felt it most when food shopping. Valumarket was, and still is, my main grocery store. It’s smaller than most Krogers, but it still felt big. 

“Look at all this yogurt. There’s a whole wall of yogurt.”

Now, Valumarket is a fine size for me, and 99.9% of the time, they have everything I need (recently, I was looking for coconut syrup, which I couldn’t find at Kroger, either). I like that they acquired postal services. I like the butcher that always asks how I’m doing and can inform us on our meat’s origin and what it ate. I like that spinach dip their deli sells that Melissa brings to book club. I like when they set up a grill outside, and we can buy bratwursts to eat on the way home. I like the beer cave, the Blue Dog bakery bread (delivered between 1-2 pm), the loudspeaker announcement, “Aaattention, Valu-shoppers!” I like that it’s locally owned, and I love buying something new from the variety of international food at the Iroquois Manor location. 

Mainly, I really like not having to get into my car to do my grocery shopping every week. We’re eliminating that option entirely by leaving our cars behind when we move to Cambridge. I hope there’s a good grocery store close to our new apartment. 

I’ll miss you, ValuMarket.  

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31 Days of Louisville Love: Garage Bar

I thought I would move out of the .2-mile radius of my apartment today (trust me, we’ll be back). 

Between late March and May of 2012, we were at Garage Bar almost every weekend. Around this time, someone bought their groceries in North Carolina with my credit card, and I had to verify transactions with the bank. It went something like this: 

“$48 at Garage Bar?” 

“Yes.” 

“26.50 at Garage Bar?” 

“Yes.” 

“Another transaction at Garage Bar?” 

“Yes, I really like it.”

Wedding champagne at Garage Bar } Photo by Michelle Jones

We started spacing our visits soon after, but Garage Bar is always a solid choice for a meal or a drink. We’ve had special occasions there — our one wedding planning dinner, our post-wedding ceremony champagne, birthday drinks, Oaks drinks. We’ve had just as many casual evenings and afternoons at Garage, reading the paper at the bar and playing ping-pong over beers.  

I love their food. The pizza, beet salad, pickled vegetables, turkey wings, the bialy at brunch, the ham bar (which I have yet to try) — it’s all good. It’s equally difficult to go wrong with the cocktails. That one little corner of the beverage menu offers so much happiness. The District 8, the Basil Gimlet, the High Heat, the Ginger Shandy (with bourbon)… delicious Instagram fodder. I don't know if it’s the bar set-up or the pretty drinks, but I get asked what I’m drinking at Garage Bar more than anywhere else in town. 

High Heat and District 8

Garage Bar, I love everything about you. Your picnic tables, the Astro-turf pods, the weird “public school” chairs inside, the cars slowly crushing each other on the corner (those are really coming along). I will miss you. 

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31 Days of Louisville Love: Heine Brothers'

(If you’re starting to think that all the places I love and will miss are right by my apartment, you’re right). 

Heine Brothers', to me, is basically an extension of Carmichael’s. Most of the big, chain bookstores have a coffee shop in them — Heine Brothers' is like Carmichael’s coffee shop. If I’m in Heine for an ice coffee, I then browse Carmichael’s. If I’m at Carmichael’s, I might as well get an Americano. Going for a winter walk in the park? First a quick stop at Carmichael’s to see if our friend is there, then a hot tea to keep my hands warm on the walk. 

Chip the Teacup, at the Bardstown-Eastern Heine Brothers

Yes, when I moved here, part of the joy of Heine was the name. “Really? Hiney?” (I’m five). That wore off. But then I realized I could drag myself, half-awake, to the shop for a bag of Uganda Peaberry after waking up late and realizing we’re out of coffee — and still get to work on time. Hello, favorite coffee shop. 

I love that Heine Brothers' sends me a postcard for a free birthday drink six months before my birthday (I guess the 11 looked like a 7?). I love that their staff always takes the time to find my Bean Club index card, regardless of the line, and I love that free bag of beans. 

I’m sure there’s no shortage of fantastic coffee shops in Cambridge, and I look forward to finding my new favorite. But I looked at a map, and I don’t see anything so close to our new apartment that it’s basically part of it. I’ll miss you, Heine on Longest. 

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31 Days of Louisville Love: Carmichael's Bookstore

I love reading, so living close to a bookstore has been just as wonderful as living close to a park.

That said, I get most of my books from the library. But if you’ve ever received a greeting card from me, chances are it came from Carmichael’s — it’s the closest store with the best selection. I’ve joked that based on my purchases, the staff probably think I can’t (or don’t) read. 

Fortunately, Gabe buys books regularly, and between his books and my greeting cards, we’re in Carmichael’s frequently enough that we’ve made friends with at least one of their employees. 

I do occasionally buy books there, and I love living so close to a bookstore that I can walk out my door and have the third book in the Hunger Games series within 15 minutes of finishing the second book. I love that when my great-aunt gives me her annual chain-bookstore gift card, Carmichael’s lets me spend it with them. 

Mainly, I love being able to spend time after dinner or a walk browsing Carmichael's selection. And now I feel guilty and think I should go show my love by buying some books —  for someone else, since I’m moving. 

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31 Days of Louisville Love: Cherokee Park

Number one on my list of places I love and will miss like crazy in Louisville is Cherokee Park. 

Early morning bike ride in 2012

I have been so lucky to live within a five minute walk of this gem since I moved here. I’m there every few days, walking, biking the Scenic Loop, giving someone directions that I hope will either get them to the Big Rock or out of the park, but most likely will just get them even more lost. I know this because my first encounter with Cherokee Park left me so lost I still don’t know exactly where I was. 

In August 2008, I took a Peace Corps vacation to visit Gabe in Louisville, where he had moved while I was in Togo. I was training for a marathon, and I needed to run 12 miles. We mapped out a route online that would take me up Lexington Road, through Cherokee Park, and somehow I would return to point A. I got into the park, and then I ended up at what I think, looking at a map now, is the green part between Pee Wee Reese and Rock Creek Road. The people I asked for directions back to the Cherokee Triangle proved useless, so I just turned around. Then I was by Bowman Field (or the “indie airport,” as Gabe called it when we planned the route. To be clear, the airport was not included on the route). Then I was at a gas station on Taylorsville Road. Then I was at the Heine Brothers at the Douglass Loop, calling Gabe to please come get me, because although I finally knew how to get home, I was too dehydrated to keep trudge-running down Bardstown Road.

Cherokee Park and I got off to a rough start. But we’ve been making up since then. I’ve watched Thunder from the playground by the golf course, made friends while running the trails, seen unexpected wildlife (turtle on the trail! Deer bursting out of the brush!), and gotten immense joy from watching dogs play on Baringer Hill at dusk. In winter, I get sad when, standing by Hogan Fountain, I can see clear through the leafless trees, down the hill to the rugby field (or whatever we call that field where the LARPers gather). But in summer, the leaf-cover is so thick and green, it’s easy to pretend you’re far from civilization (until the ice cream truck drives by on the road above you). 

Winter is made better by children sledding & strangers muttering, "Do they have to scream so loud."

I don’t get lost in the park anymore. I know exactly how to get to Big Rock, and while I can’t give you very good directions (“Go down the second hill, and if you go up the hill at the hairpin curve, uh… follow that road… and turn right… or, if you take the curve, go right at the stop…”), I could lead you there on my bike. But it’s probably something you have to learn for yourself.  

Go left to get to that rock. Or is it right? I will miss you, Cherokee Park. 

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