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Saxapahaw General Store

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By Grace Elkus and Brynna Bantley, 2013

A little ways off the beaten path of U.S. Highway 64 lies the Saxapahaw General Store, a charming restaurant and local market that has been serving the community since 2008. Simply a gas station before its present state, members of the Saxapahaw society had a vision to transform it into a gathering place for people to come and enjoy food and drink brought to them by eco-conscious locals.

Having been there multiple times ourselves, it’s fair to say that, in addition to their food being phenomenal, fresh, and tasty, the comfortable and soulful environment enhances the experience entirely. After arriving and having ordered our meals, we went to sit on the outside patio. The latched wooden canopy provides shade to those on one half of the patio while those on the other half are invited to sit and eat in the open air. Strings of lights and potted plants adorn the area and create a blissful atmosphere.

When our food was brought out to us, we were anxious to dig in. We were there on a Saturday, which meant a brunch selection of omelets, breakfast burritos, biscuits and gravy, eggs, and other breakfast fare is served until 2 pm. The ham, egg, and cheese breakfast sandwich was prepared on a house made biscuit. With a side of grits, the meal was the perfect size and blend of flavors.

Being from Georgia, I, (Brynna), like to think I know a thing or two about biscuits and grits, two of my favorite southern dishes. The biscuit was fresh, noticeably made from scratch, and was definitely more on the dense side rather than the light and fluffy side. Nevertheless, its bulk added a dimension that was needed for a hearty sandwich, as did the generous helping of country ham.  The grits were top notch, ranking high among any I’ve had in Atlanta or Charleston, where grits are a staple. They were thick and creamy, a little shy of butter, but it wasn’t needed. To say the least, I willingly could have eaten the meal twice over.

I, (Grace), ordered the “Basic Breakfast,” which consists of eggs any style, grits or home fries, bacon or sausage, and toast, an English muffin or a buttermilk biscuit. I went with scrambled eggs, home fries, spinach (instead of meat), and a biscuit. The eggs were perfectly cooked — creamy and soft, yet still heated through, and the home fries were crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, which is the desirable texture of a home fry. The biscuit was large and flaky, though I was slightly underwhelmed by the homemade jam, and I felt as though the spinach could use more flavor. But overall the meal was presented beautifully, tasted great and was the perfect start to a long day on Highway 64.

“Live Big, Eat Small:” Small B&B Cafe

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By Grace Elkus and Brynna Bantley, 2013

As we walked around downtown Pittsboro on a Sunday morning in early October, we were almost ready to give up on finding breakfast. Our options seemed limited to the Pittsboro Roadhouse, where we had eaten dinner the night before, or waiting an hour and getting wood-fired pizza from a small cart that had just pulled in for the First Sunday festival. Our hopes rose when we rounded the corner and spotted a small coffee shop, but to our disappointment, they only served drinks. Not wanting to be rude, we almost resorted to foregoing food and drinking lattes instead when the barista suggested we walk down the road to the café of a small bed and breakfast.

Small B&B was about a ten minute walk from the heart of downtown Pittsboro, so without the barista’s suggestion, we would have never passed by. Located in a historic 1880 Methodist parsonage, the café is open to both guests of the bed and breakfast and to the general public. After following a dirt path that led to the side of the building, we walked up onto a small porch with outdoor seating and into the café. Wooden tables filled the room, and a low counter revealed the kitchen behind it. Scrawled on a blackboard behind the counter was what we presumed were the specials — but when we asked for a menu, the woman behind the counter stared at us and said “Don’t tell me you’ve never been here before!”

We soon learned that most everybody who visits the café are frequenters, returning time and time again to try the newest menu items. Because of the focus on using local and seasonal ingredients, there is no printed menu. Instead, everything being served that day is written on the blackboard. Items that are constants on the menu include quiche with a cornmeal crust, an egg sandwich, eggs any way with smashed potatoes, French toast on orange brioche bread, lemon ricotta hotcakes, granola, and steel cut oatmeal. The “wild card” is the special of the day — and on this particular day, it was vegetarian huevos rancheros.

Between the two of us, we ordered an iced housemade chai tea latte, the lemon ricotta hotcakes, the huevos rancheros and the last slice of the quiche of the day, which was cheddar, tomato and red onion.  We sat at a table against the wall, both seated on the wooden bench facing the rest of the restaurant. It was a cozy, friendly environment, with a sign on the wall that read ‘If we all hold hands we can’t fight’ and folk music playing softly in the background. The counterwoman seemed to know everyone who entered, and her role adapted every time, from offering personal advice to  close friends to taking large orders of homemade cookies and cakes.

The food came shortly after we had ordered it, all piping hot and smelling of fresh herbs and sweet lemon. As the woman set the plates down in front of us, she said “You’re going to have a great morning.” And that we did. The hotcakes were soft, paper-thin, and melted in our mouths. The quiche was piping hot, and the cornmeal crust crumbled delightfully as we cut into it with our forks. The huevos rancheros were a little tough to eat, having been plated open-faced on corn tortillas. But the eggs were scrambled perfectly, the salsa had just the right amount of kick to it, and the plate was garnished beautifully with orange slices and parsley.  The chai was served in a mason jar, and was so refreshing we could have taken two more to go.

After finishing our meal, not leaving a single orange slice uneaten, we let our food digest for a moment before bussing our dishes. Rising from the table, we noticed some Small B&B merchandise available to customers — coffee mugs and T-shirts that read ‘Live Big, Eat Small,’ a cunning play on the name of the establishment. Having just polished off three meals between the two of us, we looked at each other and couldn’t help but laugh; we certainly didn’t “Eat Small,” and we’re willing to bet that if you stop in at this deliciously charming B&B, you won’t want to either.

Elizabethan Gardens

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By Mei Bess, 2013

Elizabethan Gardens, home to the largest bronze statue of Queen Elizabeth I and ten acres of beautiful landscaping in Manteo, NC. Construction began on June 2, 1953, the same day Queen Elizabeth II was crowned Queen of England. As we drove past the entrance to find a parking spot the beauty of its exterior stunned me. “We should’ve filmed as we were driving by!” Bubba exclaimed. She was my entertainment and driving companion for most of the trip. The history was clear from the parking lot. We could already see the historical iron gates and antique furnishings – which we later found out was obtained over the years through donors.

A young woman who managed the gift shop greeted us. There were wonderful trinkets and decorations in the shop, all of which would look excellent inside or outside of anyone’s home. The prices were a bit steep, but would definitely be a notable piece to any guests who visited the home of those who purchased an item. Soon, we were overwhelmed by the artificial scents of the little shop, so we made our way to the main attraction.

The garden was quite peaceful and serene.  They say you can tell how prestigious a college is by its number of bell towers and fountains, and in this case, it applies to this fountain-filled garden. In fact, the first décor, that everyone who walked into the garden would spot, was a fountain. There were at least three others that we came across, each one more elaborate than the last. The garden was decorated with a variety of statues, including Roman gods and goddesses and Virginia Dare, the first child of European parents to be born on American soil. There was a great lawn hidden in the right lung of the garden where, to no surprise, many weddings are held each year.

My favorite part had to be the colony walk. It was a dirt trail that led to a gate. Behind the gate were crashing waves and a massive body of water. Not only could I see the history all throughout the garden, I could smell it in the salt of the sea. We spotted what appeared to be a sailboat off in the distance. It was a beautiful ending to a wonderful visit to a glorious location that is a must-see if another trip is made to the coast.

Three Cities, Three Meals

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By Jeff Flitter, 2013

One beautiful autumn Saturday, though too warm for October, my group and I jumped into the car to start our exploration of Highway 64. As a meticulous person that prefers to have a plan for every adventure, I was nervous to get on the road with little to no idea what I was about to experience, see, or even visit. We left for Highway 64 with the intention to spend the day stopping in Mocksville, Taylorsville, and Lenoir and getting a meal in each. The idea was to get breakfast in Mocksville, lunch in Taylorsville, and ending with dinner in Lenoir. As we pulled out and started our journey, I was starting to feel the hunger already and everyone seemed to still be getting used to the experience of waking up on a Saturday morning. Thankfully, I had my trusty coffee to keep me going until we got to our first stop in Mocksville.

The first stop was difficult to get to because of a bridge on Highway 64 that caused us to loop around the highway to get back on track. Stopping at Mocksville for breakfast was nerve-wracking. It had no breakfast options that we could find online, except for the fast-food restaurants located closer to I-40. We had noticed a farmer’s market happening further from down town, so we decided we would drive through downtown Mocksville and out to the farmers market. Downtown Mocksville was a quaint area. It was very quiet on Saturday morning, but we noticed it had some interesting businesses. I was drawn to the lone restaurant on the corner and music store in the middle of town. Other stores seemed to be a good addition to the downtown area, but others were outright strange to me. Two stores stuck out as the most unique, the doll store and the miniatures store. The doll store was filled to the brim with antique dolls that, while valuable to many collectors, did nothing but scare me more than the American Girl dolls my sister used to own when we were children. The miniatures store stuck out to me as unique since it sold miniature homes and other pieces to put in the homes. I found myself impressed by the seemingly successful stores that cater to such as specific group of people and were located in such a small town.  The farmers market was less than what we expected with there only being two trucks outside and what appeared to be one small stand with little to offer. We decided we might have better luck in Taylorsville so we jumped on the highway to hit our second destination. Our plan to eat three meals in three cities already was already dashed by the lack of eating establishments in Mocksville.

The drive was beautiful and continued to amaze me. I made sure to drive with the windows down since it was such a nice day and would be a waste to not have a pleasant breeze on my face. I decided that it was the best decision regardless of how anyone else in my group felt. The destination was a small restaurant called the Crossroads Grill, located about ten minutes outside downtown Taylorsville in the middle of nowhere. This was definitely not a place most would stop at when visiting Taylorsville. The restaurant was a small diner with fast service and friendly staff. We had barely been seated before a waitress arrived to take our drink orders. The food was exactly what I would expect from a diner. We each ordered a different side dish and meal to get a fuller experience of the restaurant. The food was good, but nothing exceptional. Basically it was what I expected from a diner. The sweet tea was delicious and not overly sweet. The gentleman bringing us our food was very nice and treated us like friends. The restaurant contained many regulars that all knew each other and the employees. It also had plenty of photos from local sporting teams and events, which I always enjoy seeing how involved a restaurant is in the local community. The most surprising moment I had in the restaurant was a sign for a raffle with the prize being a gun. Being from outside Philadelphia, this was a first for me and made me a bit concerned about guns in the area. With that thought in mind, we headed for the downtown area.

Having finished lunch, we went to downtown Taylorsville. A slight improvement from Mocksville, Taylorsville was a larger downtown area with a bit more people. With the larger downtown, however, came more shops out of business. The downtown area had little going on this weekend when we visited, but returning a few weeks later showed us what it could be when a festival was happening. However, this trip contained no festival and therefore left us with a mainly empty downtown. Right off of downtown, we did locate a small thrift store. One of my travel companions, Immanuel, found some old video games, which I believe was the highlight of his trip. Having experienced the downtown area and allowing Immanuel to purchase some old Nintendo 64 games, we hit the road again for our final stop, dinner in Lenoir.

Lenoir was, in my personal opinion, the most successful town we visited during our day. We walked around the town as it began preparing for its monthly antique car show. We saw a lot of people of varying ages out enjoying the day. Many restaurants and businesses lined the streets and a lot was open. We enjoyed our first walk around the town and then decided to stop in the inside farmers market. Having never seen a permanent fixture for a farmers market, I was intrigued by the idea, so we stopped in and took a look around. We found local foods, art, and even a small coffee shop within the walls of the market. After looking around a bit, I struck up a conversation with the gentleman working the market for the day. With a stroke of luck, it turned out to be one of the co-founders of the market, which opened in the spring. Surprisingly, his name also happened to be Jeff and he told me all about himself and the market. We spoke for about an hour about everything from where he grew up to his love of local products. He shared his love of herbs, which he sold in the market in plant form, as loose-leaf teas, and BBQ sauce. With a taste test, he easily convinced, with little effort on his part, me to purchase some tea and BBQ sauce. Since then I have found great success with the sweet BBQ sauce that has a bit of a kick, but the tea did not turn out as good as the taste, mostly due to my failure to use proper amounts of water. After the conversation, I left the market with my local products excited to cook some BBQ chicken and feeling that the day was worth it just for this conversation.

After the market, we found ourselves hungry again and decided to scrape our original plan for dinner, since the restaurant had not yet opened, and instead went to a pizza place named Piccollo’s. The restaurant was decorated with a mixture of old time pizza joint signs, tomato sauce cans, and modern Halloween decorations. The food was good, but I always prefer a thinner, crisper crust to a Chicago deep-dish pizza. We left full and happy to experience the car show. Our expert in antique cars, or what was as close to an expert as we had, was Immanuel. He enjoyed the antique cars the most, while the rest of us were clueless to everything related to the cars. Having finished our tasks for the day and being exhausted from a long day, we headed home with our bellies full and our travel journal fuller. A day without a plan is always a concern for me, but it went fairly well. I wish we had gotten a meal in each city and enjoyed our time in the areas a bit more, but it was a successful trip. We may not have accomplished our goal of three meals in three cities, but the day was a new experience and full of successful moments.

The Winding Road to Lake Lure

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By Taylor Hill, 2013

I have always found October to be a beautiful month, as the rustic and subtle transformations of the leaves begin to take place. Vibrant oranges, dull yellows and shocking red hues line the trees and the medley of colors presents the last glimpse of life before the dull and brittle cold of winter. Our fall trip through the foothills of North Carolina offered me an even deeper respect for the month of October, specifically our journey to Lake Lure on the winding road of Highway 64.

The morning of October 19th, 2013 saw me and my travel group in a hotel room in Statesville, NC. Having just been immersed in the captivating festivities of the Statesville Balloon Festival the night before, we felt that staying the night in Statesville would be an opportune moment to regain our energy for the drive into Lake Lure the next day. Waking up to a rather glum and rainy morning, we checked out of our hotel, heading toward Lake Lure, but not before stopping off into Taylorsville to revisit a thrift shop that stole the heart of one of my fellow travelers Immanuel- he was particularly taken by the assortment of Nintendo 64 related products sold there- as well as spending some time in Lenoir to revisit our good friend Jeff, whom we met at his quaint farmer’s market a previous weekend.

The hour and something drive from Lenoir to Lake Lure was one that presented me with visuals that looked like they could have been painted by an artist. The dreary day produced low hanging clouds that shielded some of the mountains in the distance, with only the peaks jutting out from the very top wisps. The fall colors were enhanced by the grey overtone of the sky as the building pitter-patter of rain dressed the windows of the car. I was in the backseat and was overcome with lethargy as riding in cars during the rain always has that effect on me. I drifted in and out of sleep, catching glimpses of the beautiful autumn scenery that surrounded us with each brief opening of my eyes. During my longer spans of alertness, I was able to get a feel of the homes in the area, which consisted of expansive fields peppered with various grazing animals and noticeable spacing in between each home. Every now and again I would see the owners of the homes in their yards, playing with their dogs, doing lawn chores despite the weather, or sitting on porches in rocking chairs, covered from the gentle and relentless rain.

As I continued to notice the surroundings, I also realized that the scenery was changing, as we neared our destination. The road began to wind like a serpent as we began to navigate between high slopes of land and trees. Another five minutes of this persisted before we turned a bend and were met with a breathtaking view of Lake Lure, with a regal mountain in the distance, the top half of which was covered by clouds. The trees provided green, red, yellow and orange tints that lined the mountain and lake; it was reminiscent of a well-crafted portrait.

We briefly stopped our car in front of the lake to get some photos, me posing in front of the “Welcome to Lake Lure” sign cheesing especially hard. We noticed a restaurant located on the water that we wanted to explore for a potential snack, but decided not to as their menu didn’t satisfy our needs. One of my travel partners, Anna, and I did take a restroom break inside, noticing the creative décor, which consisted of $1 bills plastered over the walls, ceilings and doors, each one with a short message or drawing from the customer who left it. As we left the restaurant, and continued to drive into the town a bit more, we came across Lake Lure’s bi-annual art festival. We patted ourselves on the back for our sheer luck to travel during such a busy weekend for the towns on our list, and delved into the atmosphere that was the art festival.

Most of the sellers present were locals who hand made every item they had up for sale. There were craftsmen selling beautifully detailed chairs and ottomans made from mahogany and oak, painters with life-like creations made with watercolors, as well as talented women selling stunning hand-made jewelry and glassware with iridescent webs of color. Anna and I took particular notice to a woman who made soaps, lotions and oils for both humans and dogs, allowing us to test her goat milk moisturizer, which I fell in love with. I was fond of the closeness of all of the participants, how many of them knew each other by name and would stop by the other’s tents to catch up. I am from Atlanta, and the larger city does not really allow for such a closeness of residents so I was fortunate to experience the closeness of a small town gathering.

After spending our time at the art festival, we wanted to check into our motel, which was located right next to Chimney Rock Mountain in front of a small river that we had a nice view of from our window. The room was very cabin-like, with wooden walls and beds lined with tacky floral sheets. The bathroom was a little larger than out Statesville hotel, but had an uncharacteristically short showerhead, which we all struggled with. We discovered that we could walk behind the motel, closer to the river that flowed through the back, where we snapped some photos as a light rain began to fall again. I was moved by the distinct closeness to nature and how

Walking through the town, we saw all of the souvenir shops that were squeezed tightly next to each other, most of which garnished with suffocating Halloween decorations. My travel partner Jeff had noticed a bakery called Laura’s House that he wanted to test out, so Immanuel and I followed along with him. We were met with the owner who had an amazing story. He was an ex-karate instructor who retired and was living out of his car for three years before setting up shop in the bakery. One of his workers really caught our attention, an energetic and gregarious man named Austin who was adamant that we all try the sour cream cake with apples on it. Jeff ended up ordering it and we all tried some, and after trying it, I would also urge visitors to order the apples as well.

We ended up returning to Laura’s House in the morning for breakfast and we dined on the second floor of the bakery, with a stunning view of Chimney Rock Mountain through a large window. Unlike the day before, the morning showed favor on us, the sun was bright and was highlighting the yellow, red and orange leaves on the bevy of trees surrounding the mountain.

The Square Root

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By Hillary Dooley, 2013

Located down a tiny alleyway in Brevard, North Carolina is The Square Root restaurant. It was a beautiful, warm day in the mountains. The outdoor patio with hanging green plants and bustle of people drew me to the restaurant. There were families with young children, couples in their late 20s sitting at the bar, and older gentleman watching football at the bar. It is a gathering spot for locals and tourists, and on a busy Sunday, we managed to find two seats at the bar.

The bar is unlike any I have ever seen. It is made from the most magnificent wood, and I felt a newfound sense of serenity as I took a seat. The back of the menu described the bar top as “a milled slab of spalted Ambrosia Maple felled in recent years on King Street.” I noticed the unique design of the floor: 6,127 blocks of yellow pine, intricately and thoughtfully fitted together to create a strong foundation to support the naturalistic theme, not to mention the actual restaurant itself. The atmosphere itself was warm with dark brick walls, vibrant paintings, and a light that softened the restaurant.

I ordered the local Brevard Oktoberfest beer, and it came in a tall glass with a green Brevard label. My friend and I began talking with the couple next to us. Bill Vanderwerff is a local to Brevard who spends half the year selling real estate in Florida. As it turns out, he was from the same town in Pennsylvania as me. Here we were in a small mountain town along Highway 64 at a local bar, and this man was from the same town as me. That is just the kind of place Brevard is. In that moment, I was reminded of what a small world we live in and how taking the time and effort to talk to others around you increases your understanding of the world and brings you closer to the ones around you.

My meal came, and the Square Root salad was the perfect match to my ginger squash soup. I finished up my conversation with Bill, ate the last delicious bites of my salad, and headed out much happier than when I went in. As I left this small restaurant with natural décor and mountain friendships, I heard a local tell the bartender, “See ya ‘round the barnyard.”

Buck’s Coffee Cafe

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By Nicole Esplin, 2013

The atmosphere at Buck’s Coffee Cafe is eclectic, rustic, and sophisticated in a homey kind of way.  It’s nestled right on the corner between Highways 64 and 107 and draws a crowd of locals and visitors.  White wooden paneled siding and hardwood floors give the cafe a chic, clean and unassuming look.  Scattered around the shop there are antiques, jewelry, furniture, and gift items for sale.  Towards the back of the cafe, there are more unique finds including everything from cuff links made out of World Series-winning baseballs to bottle openers made from golf clubs used by professional golfers.  The Odds and Ends Shop, which serves as a gift shop within Buck’s Coffee Cafe is a unique aspect that you would not find at your neighborhood coffee shop.  Other items for sale included soaps, chairs made from animal hide, tables carved from stumps, jewelry, pottery, wine, coffee and tea.

A coffee shop review isn’t official without an in-depth analysis of the ‘joe served at the counter, and Buck’s coffee was a nice break from the Dunkin’ Donuts and Starbucks that college students know so well.  The mochas at Buck’s Coffee were slightly sweet, but still held the bitterness that coffee should promise.  There’s a definite distinction between mochas and hot chocolate, and when coffee drinkers can’t distinguish between the two, the purpose of the beverage becomes blurred.  Buck’s Coffee pulled off both the bitterness and sweet, creamy feel that mocha should embody.  And, the extra foam swirled artistically at the top of my cup didn’t hurt either.  A lemon poppy seed loaf with a cream cheese swirl filling complimented the coffee nicely and rounded off a pleasant coffee experience. Whether you are on the go or planning to sink into one of the leather armchairs that practically swallow you whole, Buck’s Coffee Cafe thoughtfully attends to all its customers.

Cashiers Farmers Market

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By Nicole Esplin, 2013

When driving East from Murphy, small towns lead to winding roads protected on each side by Nantahala National Forest.  Tunnels of leaves and trickling waterfalls opened up to large lake views, and finally dumped our caravan into Cashier, N.C.  By this time, we were searching for our next adventure, and we stumbled into the Cashiers Farmers Market after being drawn in by a large pumpkin display out front.  We were four girls road tripping in mid-October; it would have been impossible to ignore that festive display.

With just a quick glance, the market could be passed off as a typical roadside market, but the Cashiers Farmers Market has much more to offer than pickled eggs and homemade jams.  The sweet, tart smell of fresh apples accompanies the sound of cars passing outside along Highway 64.  The store mascot, 2-year-old golden retriever named Riley, walks up, licks your hand, and then immediately rolls on his back for a belly-rub.  Robin, who co-owns and operates the market with her husband, laughs and explains how they have been in business for 19 seasons.

The Cashiers Farmers Market sells specifically local food, including beef from nearby Brasstown. Robin explains that in Cashiers, everyone “tries to do business and not step on others’ toes.” It is a quaint village of about 1,000 locals, whose population spikes during the summer months.  And, sitting on the porch of the Cashiers Farmers Market with the smell of apple cider wafting through the air and the faint thud of a content Riley’s wagging tail hitting the floor, I can definitely tell why this is a vacation destination.

The Phoenix: Local Food, Local Art, Local Hands

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By Margaret Bryant, 2013

If you’re in Brevard and you’re looking for something home-cooked and low-key, you’ll be smart to visit Gaston Street–the home of The Phoenix. As I wandered down E. Main, past the Red Wolf Gallery, enjoying the sleepy Sunday in a relatively small town, a dated, chalkboard sign positioned on a street corner caught my eye. The sign read “The Phoenix” with an arrow indicating the way to the restaurant. The storefront resembled that of a house from the seventies, with a split-pea soup colored door, accented by the reflective, kaleidoscope-like glass in the center of the door. The menus were taped to the large glass window to the left of the entrance. I haven’t ever seen anything like it. It is a lounge, bar, and restaurant combined—there is even a large projection screen, which plays ESPN Sunday football.

The most charming aspect of The Phoenix is the personality and the welcoming homegrown atmosphere. It felt as if the intention was that anyone could walk through the door, local or not, and could feel at home, including me. Whether in their Sunday best, work attire, or football jerseys, the potpourri of eclectic patrons dining at The Phoenix is almost as refreshing as the concept of the restaurant itself. My waitress, Lily, dressed comfortably in rolled up jeans, with a high, nest-like bun, and a subtle nose ring, explained that The Phoenix is “Brevard’s only local farm-to-table restaurant.” Local farms in the area provide everything except the seafood, which comes fresh from the coast.

The Phoenix offers two menus. The first is their standard menu, which is primarily offered for lunch and on weekends. The second menu is considered the fancier, more creative of the two and is reserved for dinner. Maybe it’s because I’m an all-things-local junkie, but food just tastes better when it’s not processed and shipped from place to place before being put on a plate and rushed out to your table.

She brings out our Po’ Boys—I also ordered the French Onion soup. Each dish came out steaming. The soup was flavorful and was as far away from canned soup as you can get. The sandwiches were delicious and the steak was fresh. The green and red peppers on the cheesesteak were fresh and vibrant their colors were worthy of Crayola crayon names. The taste of local and organic proves superior in comparison to any other option. When she brought out the order, she mentioned that even the candles are one hundred percent natural and all the artwork, which enhances the cozy atmosphere, is all done by local artists and is available for purchase.

Six nights a week your dinner at the Phoenix is accompanied by live music, and all the musicians are regional or local. Not only do they support and utilize local farms, but they also have signature liquor infusions made in house (including moonshine). Their branding could be categorized as supporting all things local in all the right ways.

Boiler Room Steak House

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By Casey Brown, 2013

Across the parking lot from the town of Franklin’s Smokey Mountain Center of Performing Arts is a hometown steakhouse that embraces the area’s long history with the railroad while maintaining a quiet atmosphere for a nice dinner with the family: Boiler Room Steak House.

There are pictures and old-fashioned drawings that reminisce with the decades where the railroad was vital to mountain living. The light fixtures imitate old gas lamps, and the rustic wooden tables play with the simple mountain atmosphere. It is not until you walk back to the salad bar that you face the life-size, remodeled train car, in which some patrons can dine.

The restaurant’s lighting is soft and the volume is kept low, but not eerily so. It projects a space for an individual dining experience. You can enjoy a conversation with your family or a nice meal with friends without other guests intruding on your dinner or you on theirs.

Embracing the steak house agenda, I ordered the sirloin steak with mashed potatoes. As a part of the meal, I got a side salad from the salad bar in the adjacent dining room. This was also where you could get your food if you chose to eat from the buffet, which was available on Friday and Saturday nights.

Living up to its title, the sirloin steak was delicious. It was juicy and had a delicious salty seasoning to it. The mashed potatoes were very creamy and complemented the steak when eaten together.

Our server, dressed simply in a clean pair of jeans and a black button down, was attentive to us, checking in our meal and refilling our glasses whenever they got low. Like the overall atmosphere, the staff was polite and would pop in and out to offer service without much noise or fuss. We were on a tight schedule and we were in and out of the restaurant quickly, but we could have easily sat and talked for a while.

If you are looking a place to have good food and truly enjoy the company of your party without much intrusion, the Boiler Room Steak House is worth your business.