When Sabrina Orah Mark began to delve into the world of fairy tales, it was Geppetto—who carves his own son from a block of wood—whom she connected with most. “Pinocchio lies to him, steals from him, runs away from him, comes back, saves him, and breaks his heart,” Mark says. It’s a tale as old as time: The things that we create—that lie to us, steal from us, and break our hearts—might be the things that save us in the end.
Families flock to the Panhandle’s scenic highway during school breaks. But adults can chill here in the spring, too—it’s all in the timing.
Fans flock to Sarasota County, where they can get close to their team, and their companions can find plenty of other distractions.
Want to experience the Florida’s natural side? Here, we find manatees (and mermaids), orchids and alligators, weird deer, butterflies, and chickens.
Florida’s Gulf Coast offers easy escapes, whether you’re craving lush resorts, preseason baseball, or natural retreats.
The Foxfire Book of Appalachian Women challenges regional stereotypes and paints a complex, vivid picture of life in the mountains. Here, a passage Anna Tutt (1911–2008), who was born in Columbia County, Georgia.
Humble, gritty, and quirky, East Point sits just southwest of downtown Atlanta, bordered by Greenbriar Mall, Camp Creek Parkway, and Tyler Perry Studios. Established in 1847 as the eastern terminus of the Atlanta and West Point railroads, the city was chartered 40 years later, and today is home to 38,000 residents
Spring is here, and with it, a new selection of fiction, nonfiction, and poetry books to check out. Here are six from Atlanta authors to add to your reading list.
Those of us who write about food often focus on seeking out informal little joints and unheralded treasures. But, since it opened in September, I’ve heard Palo Santo described frequently enough as the “sexiest scene in town” to wonder if we’re overlooking diners’ desires for another kind of restaurant: one that dazzles its audience with a big show, creating a kind of collective, near-religious culinary experience.
The American diner reimagined in Buckhead, Filipino fare on Buford Highway, Korean-American street food in EAV, and Detroit-style pizza in Oakhurst.
The brand calling itself the “Official Pretzel of Beer” is distributed across the U.S.—but it was born in Marietta, inspired by a recipe from cofounder Sean McSweeney’s grandmother. “She’d always have pretzels there when we got together for the holidays,” he says. “She made everything from scratch, including her seasoning.”
In November 2019, I attended my first Stolen Goods pop-up dinner, led by chef Maximilian Hines at the Old Fourth Ward restaurant A Mano. The meal—called Traptoria, Vol. 2—was advertised as a tribute to the carryout foods Hines grew up eating at mom-and-pop Italian restaurants in the Washington, D.C., area, but with a “Dirty South twist.” From a menu sprinkled with references to legendary musical acts, I ordered the Prince Scampi (Royal Red head-on shrimp in garlic and chili sauce, served with white bread), the fancied-up Cup-o-Ramone chicken noodles, and a rapturous Little Debbie tiramisu. It all lived up to the description Hines wrote to promote the event: “Basically if an Italian immigrant moved here and opened an Olive Garden in Bankhead.”
Some of the most exciting food in Atlanta today is served out of borrowed kitchens, at farmers markets, and from food trucks. Here’s some of our recent faves, and where to find them.
Curved lines, interesting textures, and playful scale—chances are, you’ve seen furniture designer Francie Lowman’s work at stores like Anthropologie, Interior Define, or Urban Outfitters. With her own brand, Mangata Experience, which she launched in 2020, she is looking to break down gender norms around carpentry and redefine what it means to be sustainable in furniture design.
“Sometimes the smallest, unexpected spaces are the most fun to work with,” says interior designer Lee Kleinhelter, who transformed an attic space in Brookwood Hills into a memorable multipurpose room.
The first time that I was lured to the Flora-Bama Lounge, I had been casting for speckled trout on a guided fishing trip off the coast of Orange Beach, Alabama. This was a fall evening in the ’90s. Gulls spread rumors overhead. The sun was going to orange. From a distant point came music, pounding yet lighthearted, like a cross between Bruce Springsteen and Jimmy Buffett. It sounded like dirty dancing. It sounded like a good time.