This One's for Elvis

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The trolley stops right out back of the hotel, too, if you wanted to take that across town. The people behind the desk were very sweet and always able to suggest places to eat, and they gave us the clearest driving directions to the airport. There were lots of families staying here, with groups of people who were in town for weddings and the Ole Mississippi vs. the University of Tennessee football game (Tennessee won). This hotel isn't for you if you're looking for the lap of luxury, room service, or business services.

I suppose you could make a reservation, but we didn't, so we showed up and put our name on the list. We had to wait about an hour, but what the heck did we care-we had our $7.95 pitcher of beer (we're from New York City, so that's REALLY cheap to us) and plenty of people-watching. I most liked how a very polite (?) Southern boy asked us, "That pitcher's just for the two of you?" with incredulity. I invited him to join us, but before he came over (oops!), we'd finished the pitcher. Conclusion: the bar area is a good place to be stuck.

The dining experience- Our waiter was awesome, a very charming older guy, and he took our order while cracking jokes and asking questions about where we all were from. We actually split an order of ribs and some sides, and combined with the cornbread, we were totally stuffed, and we sat in awe (as we finished our second pitcher of beer) watching skinny nothings put away whole racks of ribs with sides of veggies or macaroni and cheese. Wow! There were a lot more tables of eight and up than you'd see in a "regular" restaurant. Clearly the Rendezvous is where friends come from all over Memphis to get together. We were happy to know the locals loved the joint as much as we did. And the bonus: we could walk back to our hotel since the Rendezvous is downtown.

Again, the location can't be beat for folks staying downtown-we walked here from our hotel. And what a pleasant surprise to find my favorite northern California beer, Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, on tap. This turned out to be key because most of the other bars we were in this weekend would only ever get as exotic as Heineken. So now you know where to go if you require a heartier beer.

Our burgers were terrific, as promised. It also felt like a neighborhood place-a whole ream of college-aged people walked into the bar around 3pm and sat down for what was clearly an after-work drink. They all had on identical black slacks, blue aprons, and blue (I'm talking crayola blue) shirts. They were a coloful phalanx at the bar, that's for sure!

The whole bill came to $22, plus tip. Rock on!

As soon as we walked in, we immediately noticed that we were the youngest people in the restaurant (we are in our early 30s). We didn't care, but that tells you the crowd. Emma and I decided right away to forego the appetizers in favor of sharing a dessert. She had a braised pork chop, which I think she actually clapped her hands over it was so good, and I had grilled salmon, which came with perfectly balanced and interesting sides. Oh yes, civilization! The waitress's wine suggestions (by the glass) were spot-on, too. Our dessert was worth skipping the appetizers for-it was a lava chocolate cake with a scoop of cinnamon ice cream. The second we put our fork into the cake, it oozed molten chocolate all over the plate. Oh, heaven! The total cost of our dinner without tip was $78, which we thought was reasonable all things considered and about what we'd expected to pay.

Although the drive is long, maybe 20 minutes from downtown, I recommend the trip if you are craving a fine dining experience in Memphis.

It's like stepping back in time-the seats in the booths are saggy and the vinyl is cracked, the linoleum tables are clean but dated, and the staff looks like they've seen it all and then some. Clearly our hangovers were small potatoes in this place, so we felt right at home.

And boy was the food good-pancakes, eggs, grits, and biscuits (oh, the biscuits!). Butter clearly is one of the food groups in this place, and the coffee never stopped flowing.

Now, if you want to eat here, be sure to either not spend all your money in the bars the night before, or stop at a cash machine on your way over since they do not take credit cards. I had to run to a cash machine after eating biscuits and bacon-not advisable with a hangover, or in fact, in any state of health. But do eat at George's, even if you're not hung over. It's simply awesome.

But I was not prepared for the emotional wallop a visit to his house actually packs to an attentive visitor. To say that knowing the basics of Elvis' life story adds to the experience is putting it lightly-I knew nothing other than he was skinny and rich, sang a few great songs, and then he got fat and killed himself, leaving poor Lisa Marie to marry Michael Jackson. Thankfully, my friend (and catalyst for the visit) Emma knows heaps about him, his career, and his family, so she told me bits throughout the weekend and while we were walking through the grounds. Hello--we were there for 4 hours!! We got on the bus that takes us over with these two very cute guys, but they immediately outpaced us and left us in the dust. Once they were gone, I was forced to really observe and think about Elvis' home since Emma spent minutes on the minutia, which left me with time to kill.

Anyway, back to the emotional wallop. Obviously the Presley estate presents a very one-sided account of his life through the excellent audio tour you all get; however, if you've half a brain and a grain of salt you can guess at what else was going on.

Yes, it was amazing to see the jungle room, to see his mirrored basement ceilings, and to see the seemingly miles of gold and platinum records and awards that fill rooms of his estate. And the planes and cars-give me one of them and I'll say goodnight. It was interesting to note that some of the pieces were hopelessly tacky, but others, like the 18-foot white couch, was surprisingly modern and worthy of imitation.

But, you can't deny the poignancy of Graceland. The sense of lost potential, of a greatness that would have continued unabated, is palpable. Lisa Marie's swing set, left where it was set up on the lawn, even after Elvis' separation from Priscilla, broke my heart to bits. The video of Elvis demonstrating karate-badly-also broke my heart. Did he really get his black belt, or was it awarded to his vanity?

I left Graceland with a greater appreciation for Elvis's life, his values (which seem to be very Southern and American values to me), and his music. You don't have to spend 4 hours there, but it's definitely one of those places you should see thoughtfully, not at a gallop and not with a snicker, before you die.

So all these founding fathers of rock’n’roll recorded some of their earliest songs here, including Elvis (natch), Roy Orbison, and Jerry Lee Lewis for example-and many contemporary masters like U2 have recorded here as well, ever since some local musician had the genius idea to open it up again as part museum/part studio.

I didn't have the chutzpah, but my friend Emma grabbed the famous microphone that Elvis probably sang into at one time or another and belted out, "It's All Right Mamma!" All the grayhairs who were on the tour with us loved that one (I snapped the picture).

Oh, and since we are, after all, two women on the loose, I will mention that our tour guide was super cute in that rockabilly kind of way. I think he called himself Dakota or something equally earnest/ironic.

The food in the café isn't bad either. We had milkshakes as we waited for the tour to start, and you know we had to buy the Sun Studio shot glasses!

The ducks, my dear. The man in the red coat cued the music, and the ducks shook the water off their tail feathers one by one and charmingly waddled out of the fountain and out of the lobby. Children were gleeful; moms took pictures of the glee.

Well, now that that's over, let's grab a seat and have a cocktail. And so we did, just one, since they were strong and sweet, and we were being encroached upon by burly football fans from the left. And so should you in this city of music, whenever possible, although preferably not around 5pm if you take your cocktails as seriously as we do.

So we bluffed our way past the bouncer (I think that, unless you'd paid cover earlier, you weren't allowed in?) and resumed drinking. The best part-they had a dance floor, where we danced to a few tunes before this bar too closed up and booted us out. I may have also possibly bummed a cigarette from a testy Red Sox fan, but that is debatable (the cigarette part, since I clearly remember him being testy). Anyway, in summation: a worthy spot on the pub crawl. In fact, you may want to come here earlier in the evening, as it seems to be a very popular spot and may contain a fine crowd if you get there before testy Bostonians chase the fine ones all away.

This is located in the Laurelwood Shopping Center. There are other stores in the shopping center that may interest you, but we came specifically to see the bookstore. If you are staying downtown, it's about a 15-minute drive, and a straight shot, too.

The first bar was a narrow but deep place, with a blues band playing excellent tunes at the back, the bartender serving up bottles with a rakish smile to the left, and the secret door in the wall keeping its secret on the right. Emma and I started here, moved on to Pat O'Briens, and then returned here until the band stopped playing, when the staff kindly pushed us into the adjacent barroom through that secret door. Then we sat at that bar (Rum Boogie?!) and tried to meet the locals, but instead, we met a bunch of randy motorcycling husbands on leave from their wives for the weekend (hey, they were buying!). What I'm trying to say is that Memphis is a party town, and if you go to Beale Street, you're going to get swept up in it, so relax and go with the flow. I guarantee you'll have a blast.