Monday, November 19, 2007

The Best Biscuits (and, Formerly, Wildlife Painting) in Batesville

This past weekend, we went with several friends and their kids to my in-laws' place in north Georgia. We relaxed, stayed up late, ate and drank too much, and had a blast doing it. On Saturday and Sunday mornings, we managed to drag ourselves out of bed and head over to the Batesville General Store for breakfast. In addition to the "Best Biscuits in Batesville," we've come to enjoy visiting our favorite painting of a deer frolicking with its lupine buddies. Each time we see it, we warmly talk about how the wolves are just running up to say "Hello, friend!" to the deer. They're playing a cordial game of chase through the morning snow, like good friends sometimes do.

The Deer and His Wolf Buddies

Anyway, the painting is very much a part of the charm of the place. Over the last several years, it's become a highlight of the trip to the mountain house with friends. During Saturday's feast, we gazed on it with delight during our meal. On returning Sunday morning, we cast our eyes toward the familiar spot on the wall and were greeting with a pristine rectangle of wood paneling that hadn't been seen by anyone in years. Our painting was gone; the wall was bare. Before ordering coffee, we spoke with the waitress who told us that it was sold at some point during the previous day. As she told me this, she couldn't have hurt me more if she'd stabbed me with a piece of the cheap cutlery from the table. A small part of me died. Now, I'm not really sure that I can go back there. Part of the mythology of the place has gone and cannot be recovered.

I really, really hate it when stuff like that happens.

The Majestic
When I moved to Atlanta in 1996 and discovered the Majestic, I had a similar experience. My friends and I went so frequently in the late 90's that we quickly developed "pet names" for the wait staff. Presently, it seems that only Count Chocula remains there, occasionally hustling Patty Melt Plates to our tables. During the day, a wonderful older woman worked there. We called her "Marge." Honestly, she could've been the model for Linda Lavin's Alice.

One day, I was there with a good friend and my soon-to-be ex-girlfriend. We were telling my future ex about the names we had for everyone, how we'd invented personal histories for them, and how knowing anything "real" about them would ruin this fantasy world we'd created and occupied. Next thing you know, the dumb-ass I was dating goes over to "Marge" for a little chat, returns to the table, and blurts out her real name. My friend Ashley and I sat there looking at her, not believing what she'd just done. I never forgave her for doing such a mean-spirited thing.

I guess the worst part of it all is that, as adults, our lives are relatively void of the magic and mythology we had as kids. Neither Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, or the Easter Bunny exists in the same capacity for us. Instead, we have bills, jobs, the pressures of relationships, and the responsibilities of family. When we do find and cultivate a little of that magic in a strange unexpected place, it hurts when it is taken away.

Fare thee well, deer painting.

No comments: