When the weather gets like this—warm but not hot, sunny but not humid—I think about dashing out to small towns in the country and looking for farmer’s markets. I think about driving around rustic roads with the windows down and the music up. I think about jarred honey and vegetables with dirt still on them.

In the Midwest, I have a good idea how to run out and find those places. Out here, I’ve only done it once, but to great success. Last autumn, the wife and I spent a weekend perusing old houses and buying fresh food in Washington, Georgia, and I’m pretty sure we’ll be driving back this spring to do it again. (See what I wrote back then.) It’s a good distance—away but not far—and a pretty drive, depending on how you do it.

When we were out there last fall, we decided to spring for a night in a local B&B, which I’ve actually never done before in the States. (I think of B&Bs as Something You Do In Europe and New England.) My advice? Do it. Go forth and spend even just one night in a small town this spring.

The B&B we chose was the Washington Plantation (pictured here), and we will absolutely go again. Just having the nice weather here has me thinking about it. The place is charming, but both big and cozy. You get rooms with fireplaces, but also cable, for the best of both worlds. Plus, it’s got a three-legged cat, which is always good.

I don’t have a fireplace or cable at my house, so that’s almost reason enough to seek out a night away right there. But, of course, a B&B is half bed and half breakfast. Our bedroom was a claw-foot-tub and candies-on-the-pillows kind of place, good for the history buff in me, but good also for the guy who wants to sit around and watch a Dirty Jobs marathon for two hours. Breakfast, I recall, was awfully good, with fresh fruit and French toast, but aside from the grits (terrific, but I’m neither Southern nor a purist, so my opinion may not be worth much), what I really remember is the conversation.

In my opinion, the hidden reason to stay at a B&B—and what makes it a trip in its own right—is the chance to chat with new people over breakfast. Every time I’ve done it, in the UK or the US, I’ve thought “it’s going to be awkward,” but it never is for long. At the Washington Plantation we talked politics with strangers and it wasn’t tense or vitriolic or fake. It was pleasant, thoughtful, reorienting. It was an exchange of ideas, like you read about. Even as somebody addicted to the Internet for it’s supposed ability to facilitate communication, I pine for happy conversations with strangers. You know, in person.

It said a lot about the place, to me, that it was the pinnacle of a long search for the perfect B&B-worthy home. The funny and welcoming Yankee couple that runs the Washington Plantation, Tom and Barb, drove up and down the old Colonies looking for a spot to live out the dream of running a B&B, and they landed here. It’s easy to see why. The house seems built for slowing down, for sipping at Saturdays, for breathing deep, for sweet tea and sunshine. By the end of breakfast, and maybe some kind of crazy-delicious sausage grits I can’t forget, you’ll probably start thinking about moving outside the Perimeter and opening a B&B, too.

Of course, you won’t go through with it. But that’s the point, right? We don’t have to. We can go and live inside somebody else’s dream house for a weekend, drink wine on a wraparound porch, chase a three-legged cat, and browse the local real estate, without giving up our lives ITP. We can get away, and come back. Good deal.

Next week, why Birmingham, Alabama’s Sloss Furnaces are a great photographer’s daytrip.

photo courtesy of tanakawho

ah yes, the general assembly is in town again and that means that it is once again time for metro atlanta’s famously libertarian republicans to once again pay homage to the fact that the rest of the state is dominated by republicans who still aren’t sure about that dinosaur thing.

the ajc has it’s obligatory article this morning about how as always there will be no bill to allow sunday sales of beer and wine passed in this session.

you can read all the obligatory quotes in the article. they haven’t change since i last posted about this so i won’t even bother cutting and pasting.

i really am waiting for someone to make the argument that this forces drunks and college students to learn valuable planning skills as a way of defending an outdated and silly restriction.

if you want to tell your representative what you think you can head on over tovotesundaysales.org votesundaysales.com(no web site working right now, but we’ll keep trying), but be under no illusion that it’ll do any good.

don’t forget that this state voted for a presidential candidate whose primary qualification as far as i can tell was that he loved jesus more than the other guy.

(in full disclosure the author of this post does not drink alcohol and attends church regularly - he just happens to think that this whole thing is plain stupid.)

Working on the assumption that many of the Metblogs readers have similar values as I, and that one of those is propping up our local economy by being patrons at establishments owned by our family, friends and neighbors, I offer you this (with a hat tip to Real Simple magazine for the buried blurb in which I found it): it’s called Delocator and the text on the home page instructs you to “enter a zip code to locate a non-corporate cafe, book store, or movie theatre near you.”

I love this idea.

Granted, I’d love it more if it included hardware stores (ACE in the Highlands comes to mind) or restaurants or clothing boutiques, or fabulous boutique stores of miscellany or even (*gasp*) hair salons.

That said, it’s a fantastic first step, and coupled with bits like The Green Market at Piedmont Park, it makes my heart swell.

I’m curious though - how many of you would go out of your way to shop/eat/drink local if it meant doing a smidge of research ahead of time? Do you wish it was easier to find this information, or are you content with the Home Depots and Starbucks and Borders of the world? I can’t promise not to judge, but I can promise I’m open to hearing what you have to say. Bring it.

Sounds like a bad band name. I ran the Peachtree yesterday. Metroblogging Atlanta readers gave me some great tips that really helped me out.
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As you no doubt read earlier in Seth’s post, Esquire magazine called The Clermont Lounge one of the best bars in the country. It’s one of only three Georgia bars to earn the title. In response to Seth’s call-out, I tried to get back to the Clermont in the last couple of weeks, but didn’t manage it. I was too busy visiting El Bar and the MJQ for the first time(s), as part of a birthday night out.

I have been to the Clermont a few times, though, so I can tell you that it is at least partly about “squalor,” as Esquire says. When Dave Attell visited the joint for his show, Insomniac, one guy called it the bar “where strippers go to die.” (See Dave’s visit to the Clermont right hereat Comedy Central). Watching that clip, I just learned that it’s the oldest strip joint in Atlanta, still in operation. Look around, and it’s easy to believe. The place opened in ‘65. You could call the current decor “aunthentic.”

When I go, I drink High Life or PBR. Expect it in a can.

The Clermont’s schtick is that the strippers are all older and, uh, bigger than you’d find at a lot of other places. I’ve seen some young dancers do their thing there, though. Old or young, what you get is something a little more… honest. Being at the Clermont is like watching somebody’s aunt get up on a table and strip in a basement rec-room. Except the vibe is a lot less embarrassing. Also, Blondie crushes beer cans with her bosom, so that’s a plus.

What Is It? It’s Miller High Life, served in a can.

Where Is It? The Clermont Lounge, under and behind the Clermont Motor Hotel on Ponce.

How Is It? It’s Miller High Life, served in a can.

How Much Was It? I dunno, like $2, maybe? Who remembers?

It’s true. Check the link.

For my part, I’ve never had the pleasure (avoided?) The Clermont in all my time in Atlanta.

I’m no teetotaler, but my drinking is usually done on a lounge chair or couch at home, so I don’t feel ultra-qualified to dissect their choice.

Anyone think a better bar was missed?

Maybe Will, whose excellent Drink of the Week posts are definitely worth a read, will chime in.

Ginger Snap

What is it? It was my first trip into the Milltown Arms Tavern in Cabbagetown. I asked the bartender to make something colorful. “Or something photogenic,” I said. “You got it,” he said, no pause at all. (Then I went and bungled the whole thing by taking that awful, blurry picture.) He browsed through his bottles, pouring a bit out of this one, a bit out of that one. It went into a shaker. He shook it. He poured it out. It was all frothy.

“What’s it called?” I asked.

“Hm. Call it a Ginger Snap,” he said.

“What’s in it?”

Absolut Ruby Red, pineapple, orange, sour mix, ginger syrup. You taste them in pretty much that order.

How was it? Good; a little sweet, a mellow tartness. I think the guy next to me at the bar thought I was ridiculous for ordering something based on its color, though.

How much? $5-$6, I think

Red Plum Sangria

What is it? Exact ingredients are unclear, but by taste it is red wine, brandy, sugar, ice and fresh cubes of red plums.

Where is it? Pacific Kitchen, in Inman Park. (This is from the same trip as the Blood Orange Mojito.)

How was it? Light, summery and not too sweet. The ice clinked, the glass was cooly sweating, the sunset fell through it into red shapes on the table. The plums were pick-out-and-eat tasty. Just how much of its goodness came from the modest heat and lovely ambient sunset is unclear. It’s terrific color withstood the flood of melting ice, but the flavor did not, so drink it fast.

How much? About $7.

last night i had the opportunity to eat at inman park’s and atlanta super-chef kevin rathbun’s new place, kevin rathbun steak. billed as ‘a steakhouse for the new millennium’ i can’t even begin to tell you how excited i was about this being both a fan of steak and kevin rathbun.

for those who are impatient, i’ll skip to the chase first; WOW. amazing, incredible, can’t reccomend highly enough. as for price our bill was around $110 before tip and neither of us drink so add some more to that for wine and cocktails. if that’s in your budget you owe it to yourself to go.

full review coming after the jump -
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Yesterday I got an email from a friend of mine who thought that, what with the combination of dogs and coffee, I would like this new coffee shop, ParkGrounds. (Oh. Typing it out now, with the capital G, I just got it. Seriously.) That website is pretty bare right now — yesterday there was a nice little write-up about how they came to be and how they got a special exception for street parking — but at least you’ll know when to go by. It’s in Reynoldstown.

The hook here is that it’s a coffee shop with a fenced-in dog park in the back. Inside, the coffee shop’s got that nice concrete-floor-and-exposed-ceiling look with modest tables and a handmade full-wall bookshelf that I… covet. Best thing about the place is probably the bar, though, which is some kind of heavy stone. Outside, the dog park is a startlingly large yard of wood chips, chain-link fencing and cafe tables.

I stopped by yesterday, because I am compelled to go into independent coffee shops of all stripes, and got a mocha with an extra shot, which has sort of become my metric drink. It was real good — more dry than sweet, just a little bit foamy, and not sludge at the bottom. My wife seemed to dig the cupcake she got. (Cupcakes are all the rage now, it seems, from West Egg to Starbucks.) I had a chocolate chip and walnut cookie that was freaking great, all crispy and melty (it was hot yesterday). So, based on one short trip, I’d recommend this place.

And is it just me or is Reynoldstown becoming more and more like Cabbagetown?