“I don’t do fancy.
Well...sometimes I do. But sitting too close to white linens, folded cloth napkins, and an array of utensils gives me imposter syndrome.
I was born with a greasy spoon in my mouth, not a silver one.
I need a place off the beaten path. Shack chic with a hint of propane. You know what I’m talking about.
I need a place where the southern accents are thicker than the gravy they serve.
Where the old men gather, talking about the same local sports and political teams they’ve been a part of for the past hundred years.
A place where the walls don’t have pictures of celebrities.
Just family photos.
Some that read “In Loving Memory.”
I found that place.
It sits a few beats off the interstate, weathered and loved, really close to the Nirvana RV Park.
What you smell isn’t teen spirit.
It’s old-school country cooking, served with a friendly smile...and a fried cherry pie.
Eggs piled high.
A vegetable omelet that never claimed to be healthy.
A ribeye? Yes, please.
Especially one from that griddle, which you know has been going non-stop since the Nixon administration.
If you find yourself somewhere between Nashville and Huntsville on I-65, venture a little off the interstate.
Stop by Five Points Market and take it all in.
Yep.“
“I don’t do fancy. Well...sometimes I do. But sitting too close to white linens, folded cloth napkins, and an array of utensils gives me imposter syndrome. I was born with a greasy spoon in my mouth, not a silver one. I need a place off the beaten path. Shack chic with a hint of propane. You know what I’m talking about. I need a place where the southern accents are thicker than the gravy they serve. Where the old men gather, talking about the same local sports and political teams they’ve been a part of for the past hundred years. A place where the walls don’t have pictures of celebrities. Just family photos. Some that read “In Loving Memory.” I found that place. It sits a few beats off the interstate, weathered and loved, really close to the Nirvana RV Park. What you smell isn’t teen spirit. It’s old-school country cooking, served with a friendly smile...and a fried cherry pie. Eggs piled high. A vegetable omelet that never claimed to be healthy. A ribeye? Yes, please. Especially one from that griddle, which you know has been going non-stop since the Nixon administration. If you find yourself somewhere between Nashville and Huntsville on I-65, venture a little off the interstate. Stop by Five Points Market and take it all in. Yep.“