Nashville must be the top bachelorette party destination east of the Mississippi. You see the bachelorette groups everywhere — pedaling together to power the bicycle bars heading down Broadway, slamming down Jell-O shots, singing along with the band at the Honky Tonk Saloon, and whooping it up on the sidewalk — and always smartly attired in matching shirts and hats with clever slogans about love or being drunk, and sometimes both. As soon as one group leaves, another bachelorette band arrives to take its place.
Why is Nashville such a popular bachelorette destination? Well, why not? It’s got lots of saloons and live music and drink specials and pedal bars and all of the features of a modern bachelorette fantasy. And let’s just say that the ladies we saw were taking full advantage of the chance to cut loose, starting bright and early and hitting it hard. They were having fun in the bride-to-be’s last hurrah.
I’m guessing that what happens in Nashville stays in Nashville.
The bar where we ate dinner last night was very well-stocked, but I paused for a minute at the serious collection of jars — until I realized it was all moonshine. Well, we are in Tennessee, after all, eating in a place called The Stillery, and there wasn’t a revenuer in sight.
The moonshine came in lots of different flavors, like “apple pie.” I’m sure many party-hearty visitors to Nashville have figured they should guzzle some shine to make their visit fully authentic . . . and then came to regret it the next morning. I wasn’t tempted. In college I learned my lesson well that drinking fruity concoctions where the Kool-Aid-like flavoring serves only to mask the crushing alcoholic content isn’t a wise course of personal conduct — especially when it’s served from what appears to be a garbage pail.
With an inward nod to Granny Clampett, I let the white lightning pass and stuck to a beer.
I’ve become a big fan of hot chicken. Nashville is supposed to be the home of hot chicken — or at least one of them — so when Kish and I set out to find a suitable dining venue last night, I kept the poultry option firmly in the back of my mind. By sheer happenstance, we stumbled upon a place called The Stillery, plopped down at the bar, and checked out the menu.
One of The Stillery’s takes on hot chicken is hot chicken over macaroni and cheese. The bartender gave it an enthusiastic endorsement, and she was right on the money. Served on a spitting hot skillet, the spicy chicken and creamy mac ‘n cheese complemented each other perfectly. It’s one of the best dishes I’ve had in a while. The Gerst Amber Ale was pretty good, too.