illustration by martha park
Enjoy the Simple Magic of a Good Old-Fashioned Picnic
A breeze rustles the hem of your T-shirt as you lie on a picnic blanket. Maybe the T-shirt is striped, and the blanket is checked, and maybe your dog is at your side — half-snoring, half-watching the world go by. It’s an early evening in early summer and you packed enough busyness into the week that was, so now, on a Sunday evening, you’ve packed a picnic.
Picnics are too often reserved for special events — evenings at the bandshell, family reunions, outdoor movie nights. All delights! Or at least, potential delights! Assuming (respectively) you enjoy the band, you like your family, and the movie doesn’t go on too long!
But in the spirit of STAYcations, this time, you’ve let yourself ease into the picnic for the picnic’s sake. Just to be. Just to sink into this moment. Not the picnic as a way of feeding everyone during another activity, but the picnic as a way of reconnecting, relaxing, and taking the kind of slow, deep breath that only ever happens out of doors, while supine.
Most parks will do, as will your backyard if you have one, but we think that Greenbelt Park, spanning the length of Mud Island, offers the best picnicking in town: rushing river, swaying cottonwood trees, ample green space for frolicking frisbee-ers and dog-walkers, joggers and blanket-nappers to coexist happily. If corralling everyone into the car was the extent of your planning, Cordelia’s Market is just around the corner, well-stocked with picnic-perfect provisions.
There’s something about a picnic that puts everyone in a good mood. The food your kid rejected at home suddenly gets eaten. The festering annoyance at your boss’ weekend email — gone, at least for an hour or three.
Sometimes a staycation can mean a week’s worth of outings, an excuse to see the city with fresh eyes, to take in everything that’s new and exciting. But sometimes, all you really need is a sturdy picnic blanket, good company, and good snacks (libations a plus, too). Even if it’s just a regular old Sunday evening, you might pull into your driveway at the end of the evening feeling lighter and easier. And with a little extra dry grass sprinkled in your hair. — Anna Traverse
illustration by martha park
Follow the Muse at the Metal Museum
I was glad it was a rainy day on the bluff, as I passed through the mighty iron gates of the Metal Museum campus. Otherwise, I might have been distracted by the inviting grounds, with large metal sculptures and venerable trees, on the high bluff overlooking the eddy and flow of the Mississippi River. As it was, the weather made the classroom inside the museum’s administrative building all the more cozy, especially when one of the small kilns on the counter opened to reveal its fiery glow within.
But I wasn’t there to hammer white-hot metal into shape in the blacksmith’s shop. I still hope to do that one day, but today’s class didn’t focus on anything so grand. The half dozen of us gathered around a table to work with a very different material: glass. It wasn’t exactly fragile, being powdered and available in a rainbow of hues in various jars. Tools and materials are typically supplied in Metal Museum classes, and your preparations require only workshop-friendly clothes, OSHA-approved safety goggles, and work gloves for foundry, casting, and welding.
Still, the project today would indeed be kiln-hardened. Mixing and layering powdered, colored glass and fixing it to metal at extreme temperatures is the basis of enamel jewelry. I had my heart set on making a pendant for that special someone in my life.
It was risky to set my sights so high. The worst outcome would be a substandard, homemade-looking, and very messy bauble to be wrapped up, handed over as a birthday gift, and forgotten forever after. But I was drawn in by the simple elegance of the stenciled example in the promotional literature. And then the vision appeared: I had to make a black swan.
Such a beautiful creature is generally taken as a symbol of ultra-rare, unexpected events that have far-reaching consequences. Like falling in love. For whatever reason, I was set on this image. As Kevin Burge, the museum’s repair and restoration specialist leading our class, explained how to sift one color of powdered glass over the copper disc for a background, fix that in the kiln, then sift another color through a stencil to overlay a contrasting image, I was thinking one thing. Black swan! Black swan! But alas, there were no swan stencils.
But Burge respected my inner William Blake, my determination to follow the muse’s imperatives. “If there are no stencils to your liking, you can always sweep the powdered glass with a tiny paint brush, brushing off the excess until you have the shape you want.” And that’s what I did, forming a black swan with its fiery beak, enveloped in a mystic swirl of purple fog. Fired at 1465̊Fahrenheit, it was fixed to its disc for the ages.
And worthy of that special someone. — Alex Greene
illustration by martha park
Explore Local Art, on and off Gallery Walls
You probably already know and appreciate the usual suspects when it comes to local art galleries and museums. We love you, Brooks and Dixon and the Metal Museum and the various colleges — you are all worthy and wonderful and we will continue to write about you forever, or until magazines go extinct. But how about a look at some newer, smaller venues that would make for an eclectic mix of places to explore while staying right here in Memphis?
It doesn’t get more cutting-edge than Sheet Cake Gallery (405 Monroe Avenue), featuring regional artists and visual thrills that go above and beyond. Wander into Crosstown (1350 Concourse Avenue) and see a multitude of artworks and artists in several galleries handled by Crosstown Arts with global and local talent on display.
Galleries and murals in the South Main Arts District have come and gone, but there are still plenty to stoke your imagination. The I Am A Man mural by Marcellous Lovelace with BLK75 near 398 South Main Street is a good place to start. Follow up with nearby inspirations at Tops Gallery (400 South Front Street) for astonishing works and Urevbu Contemporary (410 South Main Street) for African and global pieces.
Sometimes you’ll find the most intriguing pieces hanging at coffee shops, and one of the better-known spots is Otherlands (641 South Cooper Street), which has rotating exhibitions of art and photography. All of which can be enjoyed with a nice macchiato.
Off the Walls Arts (360 Walnut Street) is an artist collective with a wide range of artists and artworks. It has a lively community outreach component to nurture youth and bring neighborhoods together. Jay Etkin Gallery (942 South Cooper Street) has a stable of highly regarded artists who show there as well as fascinating vintage African tribal art.
Venture out east to Cordova and check out Gallery Ten Ninety-One on the WKNO campus (7151 Cherry Farms Road). The spacious venue has exhibitions that change monthly with a rich variety of featured artists. The Morton Museum (196 North Main Street, Collierville) is focused on the town’s history with a variety of topics and artists.
This isn’t by any means a comprehensive roundup, but it’s a good start when you’re making plans for a cultural tour of the Memphis art scene. There are surprises galore by some astonishing artists. Get your eyeballs ready. — Jon W. Sparks
illustration by martha park
Find Your Balance with Goat Yoga
I’ve written about yoga in these pages (our January 2022 cover story). I’ve written about goats in these pages (the late, great Babe Howard founded Millington’s Goat Days Festival). But goat yoga? Never.
There was nothing atypical about the start of a recent yoga session I experienced with instructor Lindsey Champagne. Comfortable opening stretches while seated on a mat. Deep breaths, in and out. Empty the mind of worries and distractions. Slowly shift to a plank position.
Then a 35-pound goat — a one-year-old Nigerian Dwarf named Tiki — hopped on my back, while half a dozen kids (yep, young goats) watched us. As my random back massage began, the woman to my right couldn’t help but giggle, because the goat on her back seemed to take an interest in Tiki.
Champagne began 901 Goats in January 2021 with an epiphany of sorts. “This was a Covid-started business,” she explains, “and fell into our laps. It gave me an excuse to quit my day job [with a veterinarian]. I wanted to work with animals and still be involved with humans.” Champagne, her husband, and four children live on 16 acres in Rossville — Walkapony Goat Ranch — that is home to more than 200 of the most amicable yoga partners a human is likely to encounter.
To emphasize, Tiki and his friends knew this was a yoga class. These goats are trained not to climb on anyone until a yoga mat is established as the platform for exercise. But once a human adopts that plank pose, or cat-cow, or child’s pose, well, the goats get involved. Motivated by the same healthy treat (Cheerios cereal), Tiki and Hua and Disco and Strawberry will take the benefits of yoga to a new level, both mentally and physically.
Classes generally accommodate 20 to 30 people, with an equal ratio of goats. Champagne says ages range from 6 to senior citizen. Wear clothes you don’t mind getting a little dirty, and no dangling jewelry. And keep this in mind: The yoga is not intense. The stretches are as important as you want them to be. But the time with goats will be unforgettable.
Bonding with animals has long been recognized as a stress reducer. (There’s actually a “snuggle barn” at Walkapony.) And with reduced stress comes lower blood pressure, higher mental acuity, and greater emotional balance. In other words, goats are good for us. Sign up for a class. And bring a box of Cheerios.
Go here for a schedule of classes and more information. — Frank Murtaugh
illustration by martha park
Embark on a Quest for the Best Ice Cream
I have a talent, one that’s gone unrecognized for most of my life, with no glory: I can eat ice cream fast. Really fast. I just can’t help myself from gobbling it up like a kid who’s, well, never had ice cream before. But I have to remind myself to slow down, to enjoy it — especially when the ice cream around Memphis is just so good.
A trip to Sugar Ghost Ice Cream and Bubble Tea is enough to satisfy that craving. With a rotating menu, there’s always something that catches the eye. A Mud Island flavor — what could that be? A bright purple ube, hmmm? A choco taco? Could this be the time I veer from my tried-and-true chocolate? Nope! That handmade chocolate ice cream in a cup is always top of mind.
So when I walk into Sugar Ghost (2625 Broad Avenue), greeted by the pastel colors and the swirls of the ghostly mural on the back wall, I know what to order, even though it’s not in the display case. (They keep it in the back.) Still, I like to peruse, to take in all the shades of ice cream. When I get my cup, I take a seat by one of the fake skeletons, painted blue and purple. My white plastic spoon changes color, reacting to the cold — just another bit of whimsy as my taste buds dance in delight.
Now, there are no skeletons at Zio Matto Gelato — or ice cream, since this is gelato. But Zio Matto Gelato (545 South Main Street) is just as bright even on Trolley Night, the perfect night to go as it turns out. My boyfriend and I sit outside and people-watch, a scoop of mint and a scoop of chocolate to share, plenty of napkins between us to mop up the melting drips that land on the table. It’s the perfect way to end the night before walking hand-in-hand back down South Main.
On a Sunday, we go to La Michoacana (4091 Summer Avenue), another place full of whimsy. Maybe it’s just the ice cream that wants me to call it whimsy, some sort of sugar rush. And here you can get so much ice cream for so little, and so many flavors, too. Yet it’s another cup of chocolate for me. I can’t get away from it; it’s hard to be disappointed with chocolate. And my oh my, La Michoacana does not disappoint.
I’ll be back, of course — especially once summer really gets into high gear. And I can’t wait to dive into Mempops (Crosstown Concourse and 1243 Ridgeway Road), Jerry’s Sno Cones (1601 Bonnie Lane in Cordova), Kaye’s Pints & Scoops (2089 Winchester Road), and Margie’s 901 Homemade Ice Cream, too (125 South Main Street). Oh gosh, Memphis offers so many options, I could just scream for ice cream (with delight, of course)! — Abigail Morici
illustration by martha park
Hear the Blues — Past, Present, and Future — on Beale Street
Having just emerged from the jaw-dropping showcase of history that is the Memphis Rock ‘n’ Soul Museum, a block south of Beale Street, my view of that historic strip is suddenly enlivened. I can almost hear musical ghosts among me as I decide to walk along the street toward the river.
Strolling down Beale, I first hear a cover band playing “Tennessee Whiskey.” Does a gospel-tinged country hit count as blues? What about this group of young guys in front of me, in a courtyard on Beale, with a rendition closer to Etta James’ “I’d Rather Go Blind”— the same song, but different lyrics?
For well more than a century, Beale has always been known for pure blues, but also mutant blues, commercialized blues, and blues mash-ups. When legendary Mississippi blues players like Memphis Minnie or Robert Johnson came to Beale, they copped the sound of the big city, mixing pop hits or show tunes into their repertoire. More recently, before their globetrotting and festival days, the Hill Country rooted, ever-surprising, and innovative Dickinson brothers, Cody and Luther, cut their teeth on countless nights on Beale as the fledgling North Mississippi Allstars.
As I move down the street, a different group serves up bass-popping funk instead. Not exactly “the blues,” but its progeny nonetheless.
And then suddenly, down where Beale hits Second Street, there it is: the stinging sound of a bent guitar note. I’m in front of the Blues City Café, which is not only the latest-open kitchen in town but has served as a bastion for blues musicians for decades. Harmonica whiz Mississippi Blind Morris can often be heard there, his tone like quicksilver over the band’s crunching guitar. And then there’s Earl “The Pearl” Banks, who became a professional bluesman in the ’50s, and gave Hi Records’ Teenie Hodges his first guitar lessons. Of course, not even Earl is a purist: He’ll play pop hits Al Green ultimately recorded with Hodges, his erstwhile student.
Everyone on Beale plays Al Green. Across the street, you can hear Teenie’s brother, Leroy, aka “Flic,” whose weekend afternoon residency at B.B. King’s Blues Club also brings hits from Green (whom he also recorded with), yes, but also a whole mess o’ blues to boot.
And so the tales unfold, and one way or another they all lead back to the blues. Even if you go to that much-loved off-Beale venue, Wild Bill’s on Vollintine Avenue, and hear the down-home electric blues of Don Valentine & the Juke Joint Allstars, you’re also likely to hear some karaoke and plenty of soul. As for time immemorial, it’s a party thing. — Alex Greene
illustration by martha park
Dine — and Take in a Light Show — at the Peak of The Pyramid
I ran into a friend in the parking lot of Bass Pro Shops at the Pyramid. He had just bought a pair of shorts, getting ready for a trip to Cancun, Mexico, in a few days.
I was getting ready for a trip, too. Mine was more akin to mountain climbing. But instead of sticking a flag into the ground when I got to the peak, I was planning to stick a fork into a pan-seared redfish with jumbo crab.
My staycation plan was to remain in Memphis and dine — for the first time — at The Lookout at The Pyramid, the restaurant at the very top of the structure overlooking the river. And to make it a family staycation, I brought my sister and one of my nephews along.
I let the elevator do the climbing — it’s 321 feet (32 stories) up to the dining room. As we slowly ascended, I watched the world of all sorts of creatures, even alligators in a small lagoon below, go by through the glass elevator walls.
The Lookout has that vacation-restaurant feel. It was like we weren’t really in Memphis anymore, but from our window-side table, we had plenty of evidence that we hadn’t even left town.
To one side, the Hernando de Soto Bridge was performing its colorful light show over the mighty Mississippi. And on another side, lights in the windows of downtown’s taller buildings began to glow.
The restaurant’s decor enhances that vacation vibe. My nephew observed that the swirly design on the walls above the bar made it feel like we were underwater. The large metal fish hanging from the ceiling added to that effect.
I don’t know about being underwater; I think you’re supposed to feel like you’re fishing at a lake or by the shore. To me, it was more like being on the coast, eating in one of those restaurants overlooking the Gulf.
Sunset is the main event at The Lookout. As soon as the sun started going down, people began gathering on the outside balcony with cell phones poised. Finally, when the sun glowed fiery orange against the blue-gold sky, almost 40 people were standing in a row — in front of my window view.
So I got up, went out on the balcony to join them, and started snapping pictures myself. Later, I counted 39 sunset photos on my cell phone. It was definitely a meal, and a view, to remember. — Michael Donahue
