I always remember the first time someone randomly mentioned this city in conversation. It was about a year and a half after James and I had arrived in Atlanta. I was chatting with a colleague about the dreary weather we'd been having as of late. To which she agreed and quipped, "Yeah. This definitely isn't Asheville."
Asheville. Of all the fair-weather locations she could have named first (Hawaii, Santa Barbara, Santa Fe...Fiji!), her brain chose Asheville. Since then, James and I have made several road trips to this spunky city. While the perfect-weather myth was officially debunked by one miserably cold and rainy trip, we've fallen in love with Asheville's vibrancy and energy, especially in the downtown area where we tend to eat and stay. Having the most breweries per capita than any other spot in the country definitely tips the balance in its favor.
There are far too many fantastic joints here for me to write about in one post (or visit in just a few trips), so I suspect there will be more forthcoming Asheville Adventures. But here are just a few places we visited this last time.
Jerusalem Garden Cafe
This place has become an Asheville mainstay for us. Whenever we assemble our eating itinerary for this city, we don't even discuss it.
"Of course, we'll start out with some falafels at Jerusalem," James will say. Either that, or one of us will ask, "When will we go to Jerusalem?" as if it were some holy pilgrimage. Actually, given that we only come to Asheville every now and then, this falafel house really has become like a mecca of Mediterranean eats for us.
Practically everything here is made in-house, and I keep calling it a falafel house because they are a thing of beauty here. Verdantly bright scoops of chickpea mixture are hot and freshly fried so that you have to gasp and mouth-breathe while you're chewing through the first few bites, but it's so worth the pain.
We sprung for the vegetarian platter this time, which came with a disappointing number of those exquisite falafels, but we were rewarded instead with a plentiful plate of accoutrements - smooth hummus, baba ghanoush, tabbouleh, and warmed pita.
I love that James didn't blink an eye when I ordered another side of falafels and baba ghanoush to go. Nor did he seem all that surprised that very little of it survived the five-minute walk back to our hotel.
We were a little less than enthralled with our experimental order of a salmon wrap, which was far less protein than greens. But I'm totally a spud gal, and I had great fun dragging these fried potatoes through the leftover dips on our platter.
The Med Scratch Diner
We stumbled upon this gem on an early morning walk. The cobalt blue walls on an otherwise nondescript building caught our eyes first, then the snaking line of eager but patient patronage.
"Look it up on your phone," James encouraged.
I complied with a few quick taps on my phone, but I was ready to put our names on the waiting list as soon as I saw 'Scratch Diner' on the signpost. It made me think of time-tested recipes, biscuits fresh out of the oven, and all things warm and cozy.
Half an hour later, we were finally shown to our booth and I was giddy to find that it was just as homespun as it seemed. A team of three baseball-capped guys worked like well-oiled machines at the open grill, busily frying up eggs, while servers delivered mason jars of mimosas to nearly every booth. At five bucks per generous serving, I didn't dare demur. I happened to catch a glimpse of our waitress preparing mine in the back and was astonished at her Prosecco-to-juice ratios. Suffice it to say that after two of these, I was feeling happy and light-headed.
We lived in Texas for four short years, and I'll forever credit the South for introducing me to fried green tomatoes. Now, I'll automatically order them whenever they're on a menu, including here. The breading was obviously fresh, taking on a beautifully crisp exterior from its trip through a fryer. But since these were sliced so thin, they were a touch saltier than we would have liked. We ended up fighting for the diced pieces of fresh tomato as a result.
I know this looks like a mess on a plate, but James went radio silent when he started eating, which usually means he's really into his food. I thought the Western omelette was just okay, with a heavier proportion of veggies to eggs than I'd typically like.
But oh, those taters. The accompanying potatoes that barely got a mention on the menu were the clear star of the show. The crispy exterior shattered beneath our teeth, giving way to an impossibly airy and light interior of soft potato. We tried not to think about how much oil had been used to deep fry these as we entered an implicit war to eat faster and more than the other.
We rounded out our meal with bowls of mac & cheese and grits, which earned us an approving nod from our Southern server. James typically wrinkles his nose at the latter, but grits are nostalgic food for me (my Umma worked at an American diner before becoming a stay-at-home mom, and she picked up a thing or two). Buttery with a slight but not overwhelming whiff of cheese, these were easily one of the best bowls of grits I'd ever had.
A note to future and potential diners: In spite of the breakfast rush and the long lines, things are pretty relaxed here. On the plus side, no one will rush you out of your booth, but you may be waiting a little while to get a seat, and then waiting again for the food to come out. By the end of our meal, we were astonished to find that our brunch date at The Med had lasted nearly two hours from arrival to departure.
White Duck Taco
Can I be real honest? I wasn't totally into my meal here.
I'm admitting that up front, with the caveat that my disapprobation clearly falls into a surprisingly minute minority. There was a healthy line at the counter all throughout our meal, and any available tables were quickly snatched up by new diners.
I'm not sure if the pescatarian in me merely chanced upon the ho-hum parts of the menu, or if I'm just that picky, but everything I had was just okay. For all you Southerners in the know, I thought this was a poor man's Torchy's.
I know it doesn't look like much, but the bean and cheese taco was my favorite of the bunch. Actually, let's use the word 'favorite' loosely here. I liked it far better than the Bangkok Shrimp taco, where the fried shrimp had been tossed in some kind of a cloying sauce that leaned a little too close to sweet than savory. With another thick glurp of sweetish sauce, it all confused my taste buds into thinking we were having dessert.
Ultimately, I wasn't mad we came. Why? Because of this magical soup. They call it corn chowder, which is such a sham because it's far, far more than that. It was smoky, a little spicy, and it had perfect pieces of sweet corn punctuating its hearty viscosity. With the tortilla crisps added for a contrasting crunch, I went gaga over it. Please don't make the same mistake we did; if you go, order the largest size you can.
Farm Burger
"Babe, we hafta go. It's right across the street from our hotel. It's a sign!"
That was James, providing a rare glimpse into the complex system of how we decide where to eat when we travel. But that's how often we encounter some real gems. I was a big fan of Farm Burger's rustic-chic vibe, as well as the wide menu of burger varieties with lots of fun build-your-own options.
This was our last meal in Asheville, and we were keen on eating something that wouldn't sink like a leaden anchor into our guts during the four-hour drive home, so we both ordered the veggie burger.
The house-made vegetarian patty was made with a lot more thought than other meat-worshipping burger joints. I appreciated the clearly visible ingredients, such as veggies and quinoa. Without an active binder, it unfortunately fell into the disintegration trap of a lot of veggie burgers and our burgers messily fell apart in our hands as we noshed. But the fact that we were shamelessly eating off the parchment paper by the end should suggest something about the taste.
Restaurants mentioned -
78 Patton Ave,
Asheville, NC
57 College St,
Asheville, NC
12 Biltmore Ave,
Asheville, NC
10 Patton Ave,
Asheville, NC
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