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| Waiting for a table |
It was nearing two o’clock and my stomach was protesting the
lack of food. No Way Jose’s Mexican
Restaurant had been nixed because I hate public bathrooms and I knew an hour
after lunch I would need one. We had
passed a Hard Rock Café a few blocks back and a thick burger was tantalizing to
my growling tummy, so we ventured backward.
Besides, it was the one place all twelve of us could agree upon. Well, eleven actually, because I didn’t give
the 8-year old an option. It was
food. She’d argue about whatever we
selected that didn’t offer a toy with her meal.
Getting a table in a restaurant for twelve is more complicated
than it is for four and we were told it would be a thirty minute wait. Normally, more than ten or fifteen minutes sitting
in a lobby and I’m ready to hit the road for someplace less popular. However, the music was good and there was
rock paraphernalia on the walls for the kids to wander and stare at so that
they wouldn’t be asking me, “How much longer,” every two minutes, so we
stayed. Of course, I kept asking the
same question to the girls who just told me to grow up.
The first thing I noticed about this particular Hard Rock
was that it was the smallest I had ever been in. Not that I’ve been in that many mind you, so
my frame of reference is skewed. I mean,
I’ve been to Universal’s Hard Rock, which holds concerts and Biloxi’s, which is
a casino. Still, the one in Downtown Gatlinburg
would fit in my house, I’m sure. It was
small. And loud. But, it was fun, and I would soon learn that
the food was great.
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| Big Dan & I |
It was also another reminder of how small our world really
is. Earlier at the Art House, we had met
Louise Bales who was from Titusville, a city roughly thirty minutes north of
us. As we talk with our waiter, Big Dan,
I discovered that he was from Lakeland, a city a couple hours south from where
we live. He had done what my father had
done to our family over forty years ago.
Big Dan had gone to Gatlinburg in 2007 on vacation, fell in love with
the place and moved there. I can’t say
that I blame him. It’s a beautiful area and the girls and I are already
contemplating buying a cabin there. The
Hard Rock offered him a job, so he packed his bags and followed his
dreams. It’s something more people need
to do - chase their dreams.
Big Dan, as he introduced himself to us as, was great at
what he did. He was a thick-chested bulk
with a tattooed head, and the friendliest waiter I’ve come across in quite a
long time. It was obvious he loved his
job and loved people. He was patient,
which you have to be with our group, allowing us to ask question and change
drink orders. Of course, we purchased
souvenir glasses, which he said we could come back and retrieve after we
enjoyed our day Downtown. That was a major selling point as none of us wanted
to lug the giant Hard Rock glasses around for the next few hours.
I’m not sure why we keep purchasing souvenir glasses. They’re just going to end up in a yard sale a
few years from now. Yet, we tend to buy
them whenever they’re offered. We have
about eleven Pat O’Brien’s Hurricane glasses from our excursions to City Walk
back home. I might be able to understand
a glass for each of us, but eleven!
Still, when Big Dan made the suggestion we jumped at it and now own their
beer glasses and a margarita glass with Hard Rock Café Gatlinburg emblazoned on
it.
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| Time to sample some moonshine |
Throughout our meal, Big Dan kept coming back, telling us
about great sights we would want to see.
Like Louise, he told us about Arts and Crafts community and also about a
twenty mile drive in a giant circle where the animals of the forest would come
right up to your car. Furthermore, when
it came time to embarrass the birthday girl, Amanda, who was with us, he made
sure he had everyone in the place staring at her. There aren’t many servers such as Big
Dan. He turned lunch into a great
vacation experience. We were only sad
that we didn’t have time to visit all of his suggestions. Next time for sure, though.
When we left the cabin that morning there were three things
we all wanted to do that day. The first
was visit Downtown Gatlinburg, then Ripley’s Aquarium of the Smokies and
finally the moonshine sampling at Old Smokey Moonshine. What I didn’t know was that they were all
Downtown within a few blocks of each other.
It was soon decided that the moonshine sampling should be done before
the aquarium so that walking the giant fish tank would wear off the effects of
too much sampling, which we were already planning on doing quite a bit of. You say free sample, and we hear open bar.
So we passed Ripley’s Aquarium and ventured into a few more
shops before we came across a sign pointing down a side strip where we could
find the elixir we desired. I thought it
was funny that they were giving away samples of moonshine, because my dad used
to run it, praying not to get caught. We’ve come a long way in our views and
tastes. Now, to get Tennessee to sell on
Sunday and it will be a true paradise.
When you turned the corner, it was as if you stepped back a
hundred years into an old rustic mill town.
The motif was gray wood and rocking chairs. On the right were the vats and a description
of the brewing process. To the left was
the gift store where you could purchase T-shirts and glasses, jackets and
candles, all with the moonshine theme.
Right in front was the giant square bar with people crowded around ready
to sample the shine. It was loud and
packed, but looked like quite a bit of fun.
Our group stuck together, each wanting to see the puckered
shivers of others, and the 8-year old stood by to watch and laugh. We waited patiently for the group in front of
us - who had ventured to each station to sample the moonshine again - before we
squeezed our way into a six-foot section of sticky bar. The sample cups were the small, clear
thimble-like communion cups many churches use for their Lord’s Supper, which
seemed fitting to me because communion always looked like a bunch of people
doing shots. We were each given our
tease cup and Lisa, behind the bar, started filling us in on what we would be
imbibing.
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| 9 out of 12 flavors....not bad |
There were supposed to be twelve things for us to sample,
but they were out three. We weren’t really
concerned and just wanted Lisa to start pouring. At least, I did. The first six were flavors, such as Apple Pie,
Blueberry, Strawberry, and Lemon. At 40%
alcohol they went down sweet with just a slight taste to them and, to be
honest, tasted quite a bit like those pre-made drinks you can buy by the half
gallon in any liquor store. The
strawberry reminded me of the jungle juice we used to concoct in high school
with Hawaiian Punch Rum, and vodka. Not
that you’re supposed to drink in high school, so kids ignore the above
recipe.
The next thing we sampled was cherries soaked in
moonshine. They tasted like - well,
cherries. The bite happened right at
front with the taste of the moonshine, but then the sweetness of the cherries
took over leaving your mouth satisfied while the burn of the alcohol warmed
your belly. It was a tasty surprise.
At the final two jars, half of our group bailed out. There was the original moonshine with the corn
mash taste to it and the White Lightning, which had been distilled more and the
corn hash taste left out. Both were
100%. The brave - or foolhardy - held
their cups up and waited to scorch our throats.
Teri’s lips puckered as her body shivered at the after taste. So did most of the others. It was strong, with a definite punch to it
that was not meant for those who prefer mixers with their alcohol. I just held my glass up for another round.
 |
| Our feet needed the break |
Three of the kids, all legal age, I assure - purchased a
mason jar of their favorite flavor. I preferred
the Maker’s Mark back at the cabin.
While the kids made their purchases and the girls browsed the gift shop,
the 8-year old and I took up residence in one of the many rocking chairs that
filled the courtyard and listened to a local country band. It wasn’t the country you hear on the radio
today, which is more pop with a cowboy hat to me, but more of a hillbilly
string sound. We sat through a portion of
their slow, clapping and rocking, enjoying the music and a chance to sit.
When the browsing and sampling was exhausted, it was time to
visit the fish. We crossed the street,
halting traffic, browsed a few more stores and then bee lined it to the
aquarium. It was 5:45 and the day had
already been chock full of sights, friendly people and family memories to last
a lifetime, and there was more to come.
That, of course, is what Messing means.
I hope you’re doing some Messing this weekend.
* * * * *
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For Further Reading ~ Messing in Downtown Gatlinburg
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Cherries soaked in moonshine, huh? CHEERS!
ReplyDeleteIt was a fun experience and have since found them in two stores here locally. Not that I have bought them yet..lol
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