Some cities have a way of demanding a second chance. And that was exactly the case with Montreal. My first trip was less city exploration and more an extended exercise in retail recovery, lost luggage will do that to you, which meant the city I’d heard so much about remained largely unvisited.
As a self-proclaimed Type A traveler, I’m the one with an icon-coded Google map, a meticulously organized itinerary, and at least three backup restaurants for every meal. So, spending an agenda-free afternoon in Paris felt like I was rebelling against my natural wiring. It was equal parts liberating and mildly terrifying—with a definite emphasis on terrifying.
There are a few weeks every summer when Nashville quietly becomes a better city, and it has nothing to do with a buzzy new restaurant or another honky-tonk opening on Lower Broadway. It's tomato season, that fleeting stretch when heirlooms arrive at farmers markets in shades of red, yellow, green, and purple, still warm from the field and tasting exactly as summer should.
I’m curious, how many of you dine at a new restaurant on opening weekend?
For those food enthusiasts like myself, there seems to be a feverish race to be the first to dine at the newest or latest restaurant in Nashville. Perhaps my competitive nature and curiosity get the better of me, but let’s face it, if you aren’t the first to showcase something on social media, you might as well not even show up.
I enjoy a few things more than a good glass of wine, which is perhaps why it has earned its own section on my blog. From everyday finds to bottles worth seeking out, I love discovering what makes a wine distinctive and the places, people, and traditions that shape what ends up in the glass.