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Memphis
Last night, after a pretty good day with a client, I sauntered into Automatic Slim’s, a restaurant just south of Union on Second Street, here in Memphis, Tennessee. I couldn’t help thinking, “the name of this place works for me.� In reality, there’s nothing about “slim� that’s ever been automatic for my body, especially in a restaurant like this one where every menu should come with a lease, a recliner, a back-rub, and a cigar. This place was out-of-control good.
Memphis isn’t Louisville, Kentucky, but it’s close enough, so I ordered up a mint julep to assist my review of Slim’s pickins. I’ve always wondered who dreamed up the idea of crushing fresh mint and putting it in bourbon along with some other things. Peering at the glass – which bears a remarkable resemblance to weak ice tea - I assume that this ambrosia was crafted by some furtive alcoholic who was trying to hide that he was imbibing bourbon. After all, who’d put mint in bourbon? A genius, that’s who. I thank you, whoever you were.
I have always believed in dressing appropriately for the occasion, so I was following my 2-suit, on-the-road rotation, as usual. Dressing professionally is one way I show respect - for the client and for myself. I couldn’t help thinking about seersucker suits and how much cooler seersucker is than summer woolens. More to the point: seersucker suits are natural accompaniments for mint juleps. Or so I understand.
I won’t describe everything on the menu at Automatic Slim's. (Who can remember the complexities of menus these days?) My appetizer sums up the chef’s imagination: smoked, grilled figs with prosciutto, balsamic glazed pears, orange zest and arugula – all glazed with some concoction stolen from God’s own kitchen.
By Memphis’ standards, last night was paradise in terms of summer heat. There was a little bit of breeze off the Mississippi and it wasn’t the least bit sticky at all. Even though the sun had been out all day, maybe it was 82. Maybe. I’m somebody who thinks 75 is pushing it, so I was happy. I worried about the heat quite a bit before I came here. I needn’t have bothered.
Automatic Slim’s is a feast in every sense of the word. Ornamental iron, sculpture, wild & kitschy seat covers, and funky, but functional tables and chairs create a feast for the eyes. The servers have that “If-you-don’t-like-me-then-it’s-your-problem� air about them, but they’re warm, friendly, and cocky in just the right way.
I enjoy a certain degree of independence from wait-staff folks. I’ll never forget asking a waitress at New York’s Starlight Diner if her name really was Fred (Her name tag so indicated). She flung her baby-blue gaze at me like a slingshotted rock and demanded, “Yeah, you got a problem with that?� Bette Davis lives. She later admitted that she just grabs a nametag out of a bowl and doesn’t really care what it says. No identity crisis there.
People are always asking me, “Don’t you hate traveling so much?� Of course, I’m supposed to say what a drag it is, how much I miss my own bed, and how tiring it is. Well, here’s my dirty little secret: I like it. What’s not to like? There’s an Automatic Slim’s or an experience just like it almost everywhere. I love poking around and getting into a place – picking up its musk, glimpsing its essentialness. Travel helps keep that curious appetite I’ve got in check.
Memphis – here’s a great example of why traveling is its own reward. This place is amazing. It’s a crucible where blues, country blues, jazz, country, folk, and country folk were forged. Memphis is a holy city – a place of hope, death, heartbreak, recovery, and transformation. It’s refined, but a little bit raw. It’s a real American city on America’s artery – the Mississippi. It’s brickyards, cotton, cottonwood, and docks. It’s a city with the richest of brand equities.
Of course, I love Memphis.
Posted on July 7, 2006 09:01 AM | Permalink
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Comments
Pleasure meeting you yesterday. So glad that you enjoyed our city. Hope you get to return.
Been sharing this blog and your passion for all things Memphis. Thanks for energizing our team.
Got art?
Susan