On Birmingham

This is my 14th year in Birmingham. I love living here for many reasons including: the people (very nice), the climate (great for golf), the size (easy commute) and my job (great medical school). This morning I am scanning the NY Times for medical articles, and instead I find this ode to my city. If you have never been here, Birmingham would likely surprise you. Of the restaurants, I find Highland’s Bar and Grill the best. Of the restaurants not mentioned I favor a small restaurant called Fire (the chef trained at Commander’s Palace in New Orleans).

Birmingham Has a Lot on Its Plates These Days

With little fanfare outside the world of devoted gourmets, white-tablecloth establishments that rival New York’s or California’s have bloomed like azaleas all over Birmingham. The menus, many of which change daily, are loaded with regional specialties like Cullman new potatoes, Chilton peaches and Apalachicola oysters. Building their reputation little by little, by now Birmingham’s chefs have won praise from Gourmet, Bon Appétit, Esquire and the James Beard Foundation. And, who wouldn’t want to try a place called the Hot and Hot Fish Club?

Birmingham, founded on the wrinkled topography of central Alabama because of its iron, coal and limestone deposits, has rarely come to mind as a tourist destination, More than three decades ago, it lost the competition with Atlanta to become the capital of the New South, and the downtown streets can have an empty, Hopperesque feel even on weekdays. What’s more, the city may always be known for the uglier chapters of its history, when it was nicknamed “Bombingham” and the world saw images of snarling dogs and civil rights protests.

There is more to Birmingham, however. The Civil Rights Institute, worth a solid afternoon, exhibits rare footage of events like the Freedom Rides. In January, the Museum of Art will open an annex dedicated to Alabama folk artists. City Stages, a music festival, draws big crowds, and the Sidewalk Moving Picture Festival has quickly ascended the film festival ranks. And tucked amid the hills (mountains, the natives call them) of the South Side, there is a whimsical fountain in which a ram in shirtsleeves reads to an audience of attentive critters, presiding over Five Points South, the nucleus of the culinary revolution.

Ya’ll come back now.