Oxphhurrd

I drive back into town- an adorable little college town with a lively square. This whole town just makes you want to scream “cute”, “oh my gawwwdd, cute”- little Victorians and tidy tudors- two story merchants surround the square with bars, books, boutiques, coffee and fine food. I like it already.

You know what I love about me… the uncanny way of finding the most random places to visit, falling in love with them and then having you fall in love with them. I picked Oxford because it was kind of on the way to Memphis, somewhere I’d never been, and it seemed like there would be good food here. I overheard my mom explaining to my aunt why I choose the routes I take…”she eats her way across the country”. Very true mom, but I try to find the places with the greatest amount of hedonism, not just ‘food’ per se.

First of all, I’m writing this from the sofa, in front of a fire that smells like BBQ, so I’m assuming it’s Hickory, on a couch in a cabin that I rented for the night-Blue Creek Cabin. I found it online, it looked suitable and close to town. Upon arrival, I found it to be a pearl. LeeAnne, one of the owners, moved this cabin from her parents property in Tennessee. They refurbished it into this little gem of a joint. It sits not a hundred steps from their main residence, but it feels a million miles away. The wood plank walkway transports you into some other place and time. I enter the front door to what feels like some place you wish you owned for yerself. It’s cozy. Wide plank flooring, big stone hearth fireplace, a kitchen- equipped with coffee, nuts, candies and wine, the bathroom’s centerpiece is a copper claw foot tub, two bedrooms, wrap around porch…and a glass bottle tree. I wish I could stay another night, or another month. For what these kids charge, it’s a steal. And they bring me breakfast at 8:45. I almost feel guilty for being here alone.

I did my due diligence before arriving-as far as food goes. I knew where I was dining before getting a hundred miles from the place. When I visit somewhere I’ve never been, I drive into town first to get the lay of the land, then I proceed to check into my lodging. So that when I drive back into town, I feel native. Nothing like getting lost in Mississippi after dark.

I drive back into town- an adorable little college town with a lively square. This whole town just makes you want to scream “cute”, “oh my gawwwdd, cute”- little Victorians and tidy tudors- two story merchants surround the square with bars, books, boutiques, coffee and fine food. I like it already. I chose to eat at L&Ms Cucina & Salumeria. Why there? Well, that’s easy, the PIG. Dan Latham, owner , chef and chacuterie extrodinaire, trained under Mario Batoli and family; moved back to his hometown and opened a restaurant that also serves as a Salumeria (that’d be a place where you buy cured meats-these just so happen to be prepared there as well, outside of the proscuitto di Parma). He cures all of the meat himself, from locally raised hogs- “happy hogs” as he puts it.

I plopped down at the bar and ordered a glass of Silvio Grasso Barbera and ordered the Salumeria small plate. Hello. It was layered with pancetta (it was fried like bacon), proscuitto, sopresseta, coppa, mortadella, roasted red peppers, olives and bread. The salami melted in your mouth with hints of rosemary lingering in your mouth. Oddly, I found the Coppa delicious- it was cured with fennel (not my favorite), but the spice of the red pepper helped balance out the whily nature of the fennel. Then I ordered the Bolognese- Terry and I are always looking for perfect Bolognese and Osso Bucco. I chose the Bolognese over the pork belly and the quail. [Yeah, I don’t know either] It was good, but it didn’t knock my socks off. The pasta was fresh, the sauce was fresh, the meat to parpadelle ratio was perfect. It just seemed to be missing that tad bit of savory that puts it over the edge for me. But good none the less. I had no room for dessert.

I had inquired with the college rat behind the bar about buying some meats to pack and take with me. He squirmed and said he would inquire with the kitchen, but he didn’t think they would do it now. FYI, call your order ahead for pickup. I also wanted to know if they sold wholesale (thinking this would be a perfect fit for my friends at St. Killians)- he didn’t know but would try to ask the owner. Dan walks over and introduces himself. He looks like he’s from ‘rond here- soft white skin, innocence smeared across his face, not too tall, not too short, soft spoken and very hospitable. I, immediately go into the Barbara Walters interview process- Are you from here? Who’d you study with? Don’t those FDA bastards suck? Can I get some of this to go? Blah blah blah. By the end, we were BFF. He gave me his personal email and told me to come back tomorrow to pick up the goods- “just stick your head in the kitchen and yell at me”. He promised to kryo-seal a half pound each of his best meats from this batch. Who knows what it’ll be, but mamas coming home with some gourmet cured pig product from Mississippi. Ssooouuuuuueeee! I love being nosey and inquisitive. He’s a swell guy and I hope all of this works out for him. By the time I left the restaurant, it was packed.

I shuffled down to the City Grocery- a restaurant/bar on the square. The thing I noticed about Oxford was this- it may be a college town, but the adults still like to play hard. Again, feeling really comfortable here. The place was packed with forty somethings, throwing back bourbons and millers. I sat quietly at the end of the bar, just observing. My favorite part of the night and favorite pick up line ever… guy sits down next to me and says- I kid you not- “so, where you huntin in the morning?”. I made the mistake of mentioning that I forgot my rifle. He laughed and said “it’s still primitive season”(which means you can only use a bow). Oh, yeah, silly me. Then all of a sudden “happy birthday breaks out and I turn around to see a round face happy guy standing by a tower of doughnuts with some candles in it. I say to the lady next to me “are those Krispy Kremes?”, she grins, nods and says “hhhhmmmahmmmm”, “only in the south”, I say, “only in the south”. After my whiskey, I walk the streets a bit and debate whether to carry on into the night with a bunch of ‘rebels’(Ole Miss Rebels), or take myself back to my perfect little cabin, light a fire, draw a bath and write this post. Am I getting so old that my choices are becoming the safe ones.