The Smoky (but not so drink-y) Mountains

Dressed in flannel for a night out in Dollyland

They say that 40 is the new 30.  With my outrageously silly group of friends, 40 may be the new 12.  What better way to celebrate one of the group’s entries to the next decade than a splash out weekend in the land of Dolly Parton themeparks?     

We looked into this trip months before going – we’d heard that there was a theme park for Dolly Parton in Tennessee somewhere but few of us had ever heard of the town, Pigeon Forge, a hamlet of 5000 people where the park is located.  And none of us was prepared for the spectacle of the main drag as we drove into town.  Mile after mile of over the top themed mini golfs, go kart tracks several stories high, and humongously outrageously tacky dinner show theaters. 

Our huge mountain cabin

The setting of our cabin

As we planned the trip from far away locales we saw that the accommodation choices were vast – hundreds and hundreds of cabins in gorgeous mountain settings.  How could you possibly decide which one to rent when they all had hot tubs, king sized beds, pool tables, etc?  But then we saw it - it was love at first site – the cabin of our dreams – 6 stories high, private mini golf, home cinema with matching leather recliners on a raised platform. 

The town of Pigeon Forge makes a claim at being America’s Family Vacation Hub and we have to agree that this is a fantastic place to take your little ones;  so much to do, so much wholesome fun.  What it is not, is a town to have a debauchery-flavored splash out.  We learned at our grocery market stock-up trip that we were in a dry county – beer and wine only.  I have a hard time with this beer is ok, but whisky isn’t statute.  I mean, what, you can’t get drunk on beer and wine?  Maybe I’m a lightweight when it comes to booze but I get pretty obnoxious after just 2 glasses of wine.  So we called friends who hadn’t arrived yet to stock up on the harder stuff and filled our cart with enough sugar to ensure that if we weren’t going to be drunk, at least we’d be on a sugar high.

The first night was a quiet one – we drove the strip from top to bottom.  It was Christmas and the Christmas lights were spectacular.  Though it took us collectively about 15 minutes and 5 brains to understand why the decorations were of parrots on telephones.  Ahhh… 4 calling birds, I get it, each block has a different element of the 12 days of Christmas. 

It took us much less than 15 minutes to notice that theme for most of the dinner shows was war of some sort.  North vs South, Hatfield vs McCoy, Lumberjack vs Lumberjack.  Is this how middle America indoctrinates their children for future military service? 

The second day was the big birthday bash and we started out with a champagne breakfast Tennessee style cooked by yours truly at the cabin.  First there was the “Tennessee Mimosa” – bourbon and orange juice.  Then there was the “Tennessee eggs benedict” – flaky buttermilk biscuits with smoked pulled pork and cheesy southern gravy sauce.  The pulled pork came from a place called “Smokin’ Eds” recommended by the folks who rented us the cabin. Wow.  We met Ed, literally in the parking lot behind his restaurant, smokin’ some pig.  Us being the inquisitive nerds that we are, we interrogated Ed for the better part of ten minutes about the giant smoker (it resembled a locomotive);  he seemed to thoroughly enjoy showing us every inch of the smoker.  Breakfast was finished off with the birthday cake – you guessed it – “Tennessee Yellow Cake” – honey-bourbon cake with chocolate frosting and toffee sprinkles. 

On the tram on our way to Dollywood

After an energy packed complete breakfast, we loaded into the family car and headed off for Dollywood.  It’s one of those theme parks where you park off in a large lot and then take a shuttle to the actual park – so you never get a good view and the initial thrill until you are dropped off.  In truth we were a bit disappointed.  I guess I was the only one who knew that the park existed before the Dolly Parton branding was applied to it.  It was simply some ‘life in the 1800s smoky mountains’ theme before Dolly, but really, there is very little Dolly specific kitsch.  What we did find truly entertaining was the crowd.  It’s hard to describe what this crowd was like so I will leave you to imagine it yourselves.  You know how most rollercoasters warn riders of removing their hats, sunglasses and wallets?  Well at Dollywood they also needed to tell you to remove your ‘doo rag’.  I can’t make up stuff like that.

The boys beginning to fit right in at Dollywood

For the big birthday dinner, and feeling like we hadn’t had enough Dolly, we booked Dolly’s Dixie Stampede dinner show.  This is one of those big stadiums where a horse and rider show takes place in a giant ring while you eat a many courses dinner served without any silverware.  Here they took the dry county thing even further – not even a drop of beer to be found.  We may or may not have brought in some spirit to liven up the drinks – I can’t recall.  The show was brilliant – there are some very talented equestrians out there with crazy imaginations.  The food was dreadful.  And again, other than Dolly’s name on our big plastic boot shaped drinking cups, there was no Dolly Parton.

Back home we finally had a cocktail and a mini golf tournament after breaking open our sad piñata.  It was actually early to bed because the boys had a road race to run in the morning. 

The birthday girl with her piñata in our private mini golf room

After Andy’s mini triathlon last April he has enjoyed running, so when we found out there was a Santa Hustle, we had to enroll him in the race.  Skip was a cross country nerd in highschool but hadn’t run in something like 10 or 20 years.  And Mark is just a race event junkie, so was very happy to join up and begin the talk of getting personal bests.  Andy was a little concerned that the guys would want him to keep up but in the end he enjoyed their company and coaching and finished 9^th in his age group of several hundred runners.  Best of all for us was that they had to dress up like Santa for the race – complete with fake beard. 

And they are off

 

Post race santa hottubbing

Liz in the elegant barn dinner room

Our final dinner was supposed to be the more grown up sophisticated affair of the weekend.  Ever the culinary detective, I had searched the area for a good quality dining establishment.  I was so excited to find a Mr and Mrs Smith recommendation and Conde Nast ‘best hotel in north america’ just 40 minutes away.  Wow.  How was there such a gem in friggin’ eastern Tennessee?  And how had I never heard of it when I was forced to work down there on a project years ago?  The place is called the Inn at Blackberry Farms and it looks delightful on their website.  Calling them up to book dinner I felt like it was a scene out of LA Story where my background was being checked to see if I was good enough to dine there.  You all know that I have eaten as some of the most ridiculously fabulous restaurants in the world – often flying to a different country just for a meal.



Carolina wreckfish at Blackberry Farms



These restaurants always treat me like a friend.  Blackberry Farms was a snooty pretentious booking experience.  That should have been a red flag.  We booked an early dinner, but even with the early seating we knew it would already be dark so I phoned ahead to see if we could arrive an hour early and have a drink so we can see the grounds in the daylight.  Umm, no.  We would not be allowed to enter the gate before our dinner reservation.  That should have been the second red flag.  Stubbornly, we still went.  When we got there we arrived at the hotel reception and I had to sign for dinner.  Then they escorted us to the barn where the restaurant was.  It was stunning.  Rustic and elegant.  Ok so maybe this place will be ok.  The teenage servers were awkward.  The amuse bouche was a slice of French bread with some red pepper cream cheese.  The menu and the food were good, but the service, or lack thereof was pathetic. 



I felt horrible for forcing this on my friends.  The only real entertainment was watching the other diners – they looked bored too.  And then it happened.  I looked beyond Skip’s shoulder to the woman at the next table and there she was reading her menu with Lorgnette glasses.  I had to look up that word ‘Lorgnette’.  These are the glasses on a long stick that you hold in front of your face.  I literally lost it in uncontrollable laughter as I saw this woman lengthen her lips and stare down her nose at the menu with those glasses.  I’m laughing now as I type this, 2 months later.  It wasn’t worth the cost, but I will never forget those glasses for as long as I shall live.

behind Skip...look closely...

In the end I would recommend a trip to the smoky mountains, especially for families.  Though I have only 1 recommendation for where to eat or drink –  Smokin’ Eds - proof that the smokey mountains are for smokin', not drinkin'.