This road trip started out from our home in southwest Florida. Instead of driving the interstate, we decided to take back roads pretty much all the way to our destination, Savannah, Ga. There, I would attempt to realize a long-standing desire to have lunch at Savannah's most famous former boardinghouse. It is on my "bucket list."
Hours spent driving the back roads that wind through central Florida make you realize that, yes indeed, parts of the state are really in the South. But it is the South without magnolias and wisteria.
Instead, there are orange groves, lots of them, and nothing new for miles and miles. Passing through Zolfo Springs and entering Wauchula, I stopped the car to ask an old man in a torn sombrero where he thought I ought to head for lunch.
"Nothin' fancy here," the man said, and then he pointed in the direction of the McDonald's, informing us, "That's about as good as it gets for the next 20 or 30 miles."
This was not an auspicious beginning to a trip I had planned in my mind for several decades. It was a trip that would help few of my high-flying clients but would, I thought, help me. It was a family road trip, four nights with plenty of driving at either end. And I couldn't even be certain I would achieve my goal.
The idea of a road trip is rather new to me. I still have large chunks of the planet to explore. Travel involving driving in the U.S. of A is on the horizon, based on the assumption I will still be a nifty driver in a decade or so. But this trip had to be taken because it was filled with purpose, and I, perhaps selfishly, thought it was time to realize this one dreamette.
The back roads heading north took us close to Orlando and around Lake Buena Vista. But I realized the same frustration the last time I had driven to Disney World: a profound sadness that there would be no time to visit a theme park that intrigues me in ways Disney World never could.
The Holy Land Experience is still drawing crowds, part of the $4 billion religious entertainment industry that includes amusement parks, books, music, rock concerts and a Christian wrestling circuit.
This is a portion of the travel industry rarely covered in the trade publications. The Holy Land Experience charges $31 a ticket for adults. It is most crowded in the afternoons, when folks come to see the daily crucifixion re-enactment at 4:30. I promised myself I'd report on the attraction the next time I was in Orlando.
We finally made it to Savannah and parked in front of the new Avia Hotel, smack dab in the center of things, fronting the restored Ellis Square.
The Avia Savannah might be my hotel find of the year. Hip, contemporary rooms and Southern charm. The front desk staff come around and personally take your hand. Sometimes there are even hugs from employees who welcome you the way a favorite aunt might. And these folks weren't trained to be nice. They were all Southerners; it sort of comes naturally to them.
That night we went down to the bar and restaurant fronting the huge square and ordered several small plates, including lobster mac in a mornay reduction, Low-Country oysters and fried green tomatoes and some espresso-dusted sea scallops with candied pecans and fig balsamic.
But I think it was when we decided to order one more small plate -- Southern fried chicken with waffles, firefly vodka and blueberry praline syrup -- that we vowed we'd be moving to this city as quickly as possible.
What's with these Avia people? I wondered. Haven't they read the rules about hotel dining rooms?
The next morning, I was back in the dining room, sitting by a large window enjoying my everyday breakfast of "100% organic local grits topped with Savannah shrimp," when I glanced out the window and saw something shocking enough to make me put my fork down.
Across the way, a somewhat tattered-looking crowd braved the morning chill in a long line that snaked around the huge building. The line moved slowly, and the folks in it braced themselves against the cold.
I called the waitress over and said, "There must be two- or three-hundred homeless people lined up for food. Is this an everyday occurrence?"
"Well, it's an everyday occurrence," she replied, "but they're not exactly homeless. Those are fans of Paula Deen from the Food Network, and they're lined up to get reservations to her restaurant, the Lady and Sons."
The next day, using a bit of pull from someone connected to the Savannah scene, we boarded a pedicab in the front of our hotel for the ride over to the reason for this trip: Mrs. Wilkes' Boarding House, smack in the middle of the historical district.
This is what I call a "destination restaurant." Folks will actually cross oceans to say they've been there. We pedaled past Jones Street, where a block-long line of "hopefuls" were waiting to get seated at one of Mrs.Wilkes' large oak tables.
Fortunately, I had secured a coveted back-door pass, so the pedicab turned in to the alley behind the fading mansions that once served as boardinghouses for railroad workers.
We waited outside the back door as the elderly staff came out from time to time for a breath of air as they cut turnips and squash, onions and orange bell peppers in round metal tubs.
Finally, they came to get us, and we were seated, along with 10 strangers from the line on the street. I can't remember everything that was served at that table family-style, but among my most memorable recollections -- each a "best I've ever tasted" dish -- were fried chicken, black-eyed peas, lima beans, sweet potato something, barbecue pork, mashed potatoes, bread stuffing, marinated cukes, sweet turnips and fried tomatoes, beef stew and homemade sausages with cabbage. And that is just what I hastily wrote down.
After steaming bowls kept arriving, one of the servers suggested that we might want to "leave room for a bit of dessert." On this day, we were served peach cobbler and banana pudding.
We then bussed our own dishes, walked to the Wilkes family member manning the small register in the front room and paid our $16-per-person bill.
When we walked out the back door, our pedicab driver was waiting. We hadn't asked him to come back, but as he explained quite astutely, "No one can walk back to the hotel after lunch at Mrs. Wilkes'."
Contributing editor Richard Turen owns Churchill and Turen, a vacation-planning firm that has been named to Conde Nast Traveler's list of the World's Top Travel Specialists since the list began. Contact him at [email protected].