Memorials and Hijinks

Jan. 24-26

Joanna was curious about the World of Coca-Cola, but it’s my fault that we didn’t go in. I just don’t want to pay an admission fee to watch somebody’s commercial.

We did see the statue of Pemberton, the inventor of Coca-Cola, on the plaza near the ticket booth.

Besides, the place has a distinct Walt Disney vibe, and I’ve had enough of that in this life.

So we went straight to lunch.

Joanna was craving vegetables, and I was experiencing a bit of nostalgia for them myself. We had noticed when we were there last night that Ted’s Montana Grill offers a vegetable plate, made up of four sides.

The car was tucked into the lot and we walked the few blocks uphill to the restaurant. It was chilly—downright cold for Atlanta—and windy, but we managed to make it without too much windburn.

This is the South, so the vegetables were exceptionally good because they are cooked soft and gently enhanced by seasoning and shortening. The green beans, generally not my favorite, were delicious. So were the carrots. 

I ordered a chicken tortilla soup, bits of chicken and chopped vegetables in a thick broth flavored with chili powder. Not bad, not great. 

I wouldn’t cross the street to have it again, but if that was the only soup on the menu, I could take it without complaining.

We are staying at a pleasant La Quinta hotel about eight miles from Downtown. And Downtown is where all the action is. 

Google sent us to Interstate 85 to reach Downtown. Then on the way back, we found that it’s much more fun to take the slow ride up Peachtree Street to the Buford Highway and back to home base. 

We had eaten a much bigger lunch than usual and so went out for a late dinner. 

First I had to do some searching for a destination in our neck of town. Google turned up the name Eataliano. 

We had seen the place earlier, the night we wound up at Grub Burger Bar. But a joint called Eataliano sounds right down there with Sbarro, the terrible New York pizza and pasta chain, so I passed right by it.

This time, I read some reviews. They even have wine. It sounded better than terrible. Joanna was game, but then, she’s never tried Sbarro. But anyway, we took a flyer. 

Much to my surprise, they served a surprisingly good pizza. It had a great crust with just the right amount of char. The topping was a savory fennel sausage. The sauce was fine, nothing overdone, and definitely not sweet, which is always a danger with unknown red sauce.

Joanna had eggplant Parmagiana with penne. Again, the sauce had been judiciously made.

I started with a cheap Chianti, which I found too sharp. I followed it with a better one.

After our visit the other night to the war zone, I looked up another place to buy packaged goods. This store was less heavily armored, although the clerk was still behind bullet-proof windows.

I found a bottle of Montepulciano d’Abruzzo for $11 or $12. The label says Masciarelli 2013. It’s not the best, a little acidic, but it’s still Montepulciano d’Abruzzo, and that means good. 

Friday we went to the High Museum of Art. It’s not big, but it’s worth a few hours of browsing. 

There are several large sculptural pieces surrounding the building. 

A striking figure is a casting of Rodin’s Shade. It stands on a pedestal in a pose of despair with its head below one arm. Surrounding it is a ring of black marble plaques with the names of 122 members of the museum who died in a 1962 plane crash at Orly. 

My favorite is an installation by Roy Lichtenstein. It’s a cutout painted to look like a house with slightly exaggerated perspective. As you walk around it, you sense that it is moving and also changing proportions. 

It’s an illusion in more ways than one. The corner of the two walls protrudes toward the viewer. You don’t question that. Not until you get far enough around to look at the piece edgewise.

From the front you see the roof tilt back, so distinctly in fact that you may think the surface is bent that way. But the roof doesn’t tilt back at all. It tilts forward.

What you saw as a convex figure is in fact concave.

It’s an ingenious fool-the-eye joke, an affirmation of life a few yards away from the Shade.

On the far side of the building is World Events, a large aluminum sculpture by a British artist named Tony Cragg. At a distance, you see trusswork that outlines a man holding a globe. 

Close up you see that the trusswork is made up of stick figures balancing on each other.

The painting galleries have works from the late 14th to the 21st century.

My favorite piece inside the museum is a statue of Rachel when she first meets Jacob. It’s a graceful figure made more so by the drape of her clothes. 

You can see her face clearly even though it is covered by a marble veil.

How does somebody conceive of that, let alone execute it in stone?

It’s hard to describe because it’s a sight gag, so I’m sending a closeup as the picture of the day.

Dinner was bar food at one of my other favorite places in Atlanta, the Vortex. You have to be 21 to go inside. You have to behave when they let you in: “No Minors. No Whiners.”

Joanna and I both tried the Alpine Steak Burger—Swiss cheese, mushrooms, sauteed onions, and steak sauce on a half-pound patty. 

I tried something new to me, Abita IPA. I’ve had the company’s Turbo Dog and its Purple Haze, which tend to be on the sweet side. 

When they say IPA, though, they mean it. It wasn’t just very good; it was a complex blend of flavors. At least on draft, it’s among the best India pale ales that I’ve tried.

Saturday we left Georgia and drove to Montgomery, Ala. 

We were originally going to Birmingham, but Joanna read about a civil rights monument by Maya Lin, the same sculptor who did the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington. 

Lin was a kid barely out of school when she won the competition for that earlier commission. Joanna and I saw it in D.C. a few years ago. 

Joanna wanted to see the civil rights monument in Montgomery, too.

It’s in front of the Southern Poverty Law Center, nor far from the Alabama State Capitol. All the government workers were gone on Saturday, so the streets were empty. That made visiting easy.

We parked across from the monument.

It’s a circular black granite fountain. There is quotation on the wall, from a speech by Martin Luther King: “We will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.”

The granite face of the fountain is inscribed with a timeline recording the civil rights struggle, the murders of activists, the passing of landmark legislation, the Selma police riot, Rosa Parks’s refusal to move.

It’s quiet, and the content makes it stunning.

Down the street is Jim Crow’s legacy.

A huge Confederate soldiers’ and sailors’ monument occupies a place of distinction in front of the Alabama State Capitol. According to its inscription, the cornerstone was placed by Jefferson Davis, “president of the CSA,” in April 1886.

There are doggerel declarations on the sides of the base. One reads: “Knightliest of the knightly race / who since the days of old / have kept the lamp of chivalry / alight in hearts of gold.”

I can’t hear “chivalry” in connection with the Old South without remembering Mark Twain. He talked about that too. He blamed the Civil War on too much reading of Sir Walter Scott.

The obelisk must be a couple of stories high. Plaques at each corner describe four versions of Rebel flags. The flags, though, and even their poles are gone.

We saw them, the same designs if not the identical flags, across Washington Street from the Capitol, at the The First Confederate White House.

Montgomery was the Confederate capital for a few months, before the government moved to Richmond. The house is where Jefferson Davis lived and carried out the business of being the Rebel president.

It was originally in a different location, but was moved to its present lot, maybe so the legislators could always keep it close.

The Alabama archive and museum is next door. 

An entertaining feature outside is a bronze map placing significant events in the state’s history and heritage—“Damn the Torpedoes,” the founding of Mobile, the 1965 Voting Rights March, catfish farming. 

A man came out to offer us brochures with more information about the map and also to invite us inside.

We spent about an hour there, reading about the original inhabitants, the Creek Indians. De Soto came looking for gold but didn’t establish a settlement. That was left to the French. Then the British took over, and finally the Americans.

We had to stop and leave at closing time.

Most of the restaurants that looked promising are on the far side of town from the Comfort Suites where we were staying. I just didn’t feel like getting back onto the Interstate and driving eight or nine miles each way.

I found a Longhorn Steakhouse three miles down the highway that runs right outside our door. I usually avoid chains, but this was the closest place I could find that looked like something for grownups. 

It was another happy surprise. This is cattle-raising country, so maybe the filet mignon was locally grown. All I know is that it was one of the tenderest and tastiest in my memory. Even the fries were crisp and the broccoli well seasoned.

A tuna steak passed muster with Joanna. and so did a baked sweet potato.

I don’t know if any other Longhorn Steakhouses are this good,  but I may try one somewhere else just to see.

Even the unnamed pinot noir they poured was a treat.

We’re in Meridian, Miss., right now and heading for Vicksburg tomorrow. We’ll stay there two nights. 

Vicksburg may get 1 to 3 inches of snow Monday night, so just as well that we don’t leave till Wednesday.

I am trying to dodge winter and it’s following me. Ouch.

Love to all and to all a good night.

Harry