Now, whether you pronounce them pe-cons or pee-caans, I have learned one thing in my short time here in Savannah--pecan encrusted anything tastes like heaven. Now, I'm new at this blogging thing, so I'm afraid I will not be as witty as Jayme, or as interesting as Ian, or as authoritative as Chris. However, I have had a thouroughly enjoyable, quite comical day. And besides, who can resist an ode to pecans.
I am staying in the historic district (perfect for me!) in Savannah, and will be here for about a week. The hotel is great, the view is awesome, and I am very tempted to take a trip on the Savannah River Queen (the sister riverboats are docked just outside my window). I had planned to take a nap upon arriving at the hotel, but the lure of the River Street Street Fair proved too strong, so I grabbed my camera and water bottle (our pilot informed us that humidity in Savannah hovers around 100% all summer long) and headed out to explore. The street fair had similarities to ones I have been to in Amber's Gold Street neighborhood or Eastern Market, with a few exceptions: a booth labelled "Voodoo Jewelry Design," several booths with 6 foot tall totem poles/men carved out of wood, and entire stalls devoted to peanuts: boiled peanuts, cajun peanuts, barbeque peanuts, wasabi peanuts--the list was practically never-ending. It made me wish that peaches were in season...
While wandering through the street fair, Savannah-style, I met a long lost love: pecan clusters. Any concerns about gaining too much weight were thrown out the window when I encountered the Savannah Candy Kitchen. Those 300 extra calories that pregnant women are supposed to eat--do samples of pecan clusters or key lime fudge fit into the "healthy 300 calorie" column? I think the answer to that is yes.
I ran into a friend and co-worker while on Savannah's version of the "River Walk," and we decided that we needed to find a tasty, authentic Southern restaurant. What we didn't know is that the graduation ceremonies for the Savannah College of Art and Design were today, which means an extra 10,000 people are visiting Savannah, and all of them wanted to go out to dinner at 7pm. Luckily, with a tip from my extensive research, and a call from o
ur concierge, we were able to get reservations for a restaurant called the Pirate House. The Herb House, located inside the restaurant, was built in 1734--it is the oldest house in Georgia!!! I decided to really indulge my desire for Southern soup, and had part of a low country (slow cooked pork and collard greens) egg roll, she crab soup (soooo delicious), and honey pecan fried chicken. And lets just say, it really doesn't get any better than that! (Note: The picture was taken AFTER I had given a chicken breast to a friend. Way too much food, but soooo delicious.)
The Pirate House, it turns out, has a very interesting history, which leads me to the second part of the post's title--pecan paradise or haunted house? I have already decided, quite enthusiastically, that the term pecan paradise should be applied to Savannah. I also learned that Savannah has a reputation for being the number one "ghost town" in the U.S. But, back to the Pirate House. Let me excerpt from their "history."
"The Old Pirates' House first opened in 1753 as an inn for seafarers, and fast became a meeting point for bloodthirsty pirates and sailors from the Seven Seas. Here seamen drank and discoursed, sailor fashion, on the exotic high seas adventures from Signapore to Bombay and from London to Port Said. Stories still persist of a tunnel extending from the old rum cellar beneath the Captians Room that led to the river through which men were carried unconscious, to ships waiting in the harbor. Indeed many a sailor drinking in carefree abandon awoke to find himself at sea on a strange ship bound for a port half a world a way.
Now, who can resist a story like that one? I actually saw the tunnel that led to the river, and it is not somewhere I would have liked to end up. I also learned that in the classic Treasure Island, by Robert Louis Stevenson, it says that Captain Flint, who buried the original treasure in Treasure Island, died at the Pirate's House. Yep, you guessed it, the very same. "Even now, employees and guests alike" claim that the ghost of Captain Flint haunts the Pirate House.
Apparently, ghosts are big business in Savannah. My cab driver, an older, native Savannahian, swore that his house was actually haunted, and that several people, his wife and himself not included, had seen a man in their house--a ghost--over the years. Luckily, the ghost didn't bother the man or his wife. He told me several of the more prominent stories that have hit the news over the years, most including antique furniture or Revolutionary War-era homes. He even told me that when he was the foreman of a fertilizer plant, there was a story that a man's head had been chopped off in the conveyor belt, and many of the workers swore they had seen the headless man if they happened to be at the factory at night. Ewwww. Apparently, there are some people who love the idea of ghost stories, evidenced by the 10 people I saw get out of the hearse that had pulled up in front of my hotel. The side of the hearse read: Hearse Drawn Ghost Tours (I guess as opposed to the many horse-drawn ghost tours available in the evening.)
Overall, an eventful first day here in Savannah. I prefer to think of the city as a pecan paradise, and will leave the ghost tours to someone else :)
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