Most importantly Memphis is a delicious  city. The food and the people are warm and inviting, and if I had more time I would have gladly stayed longer in order to eat more.

What I find most appealing about Memphis is its lack of pretense. Ribs, a must eat in the city, best portray this character–messy and unrefined, but oh so delicious.

I won’t even try to debate the “best” ribs of Memphis. I asked several locals and they all named a few different places. I chose Interstate BBQ and have no complaints. In fact, these ribs have ruined me for life. The meat was so tender I easily licked the bones clean. And the spice blend was tasty, but subtle enough that it didn’t overpower the delicate taste of smoked pork. Perfect, just perfect.

After a walk around the city and a long night’s sleep I woke up hungry for a sweeter taste of the South. The perfect remedy for my rumbling belly was found at The Arcade Restaurant-the sweet potato pancakes to be exact. Absolutely heavenly. Thick and sweet, a cross between a pancake and sweet potato pie, I absolutely cleared my plate. I hadn’t intended to eat it all, but I simply couldn’t resist.

This is the kind of place I’d like to stay for a while. Perhaps rent a cabin for a month or so, sit under a moss-covered tree and write a novel. One author, James Lee Burke, has already done this. I can understand why, the environment and cuisine make this city a creative wonderland for my head.

Oh right, the food. I was only here for a day and didn’t have nearly enough time to sample as much food as I would have liked.

I chose the Bon Creole Lunch Counter from among several different home-cooked choices in the city. It was Sunday, and on this day of the week they are only open from 11-2 and only serve bbq plates as opposed to the full menu. By 11:45 they were sold out of the ribs and pork chops, so I opted for the half roast chicken. The chicken was slightly spicy and abundantly juicy and the beans were fresh and perfectly seasoned, but it was the dirty rice that was the star of this meal.

Sadly, I’ve lived 34 years without ever tasting dirty rice. I made up for lost time by eating the side of rice in record time. And by the time I had finished that, I only had a tiny bit of room left for my chicken. If only I could eat like a linebacker—I would have happily ordered another side of rice for the drive.

Actually, I take that back that I’ve never had dirty rice. I mean, no, I had never had Cajun dirty rice before this trip, but I grew up on my grandmother’s rice dressing she made to accompany roast chicken. This dish consists of white rice, celery, onion, chicken gizzards/giblets and Parmesan cheese. So while the end flavor notes are different, the meaty flavor and texture was pleasingly familiar.

I think a Cajun cookbook and another trip the Bayou is in my near-term future.

TomTom: Without this amazing GPS device I would likely be in Mexico or Canada at this point. I’ve never been good with directions, in fact, most people that know me know that I almost always go the wrong way. If I come to an intersection and think, “yeah, I make a right turn here” 99% of the time I should have made a left. Originally I was simply going to use Google Maps on my iPhone, but in restrospect that would have been a disaster. The TomTom talks to me, tells, me where I need to go, how far in the future I need to turn, tells me if an upcoming exit is on the right or left, and what lane I need to be in. I brought an Atlas, just in case, but it remains somewhere in the trunk. I simply don’t need it. The voice recognition feature has worked well. Often I’ll decide where I’m going next while I’m driving, and I simply don’t have the coordination to type and drive. If only the TomTom could also drive the car…

Roadfood: I’ve used this book as a reference, along with recommendations from locals and other bloggers. The team of Jane and Michael Stern have really done their homework and provide many great tips for down-home eateries that are often off-the-beaten-path, and nearly never mentioned in travel guides.

Speaking of travel guides, I’ve ditched mine, and I’d recommend that others who want to tour the country do the same. We are all aware of the major sites in most cities, but nearly all travel guides miss the mark when it comes to describing a city as seen through the eyes of a local. Get off the highway and drive through the city and the backroads, stop at a local cafe and aks the locals what they recommend for dinner, etc.

Twitter: Most of my readers are already avid Twitter users, but it’s been helpful enough that it’s worth another mention. Because it’s real-time messaging (I’m using the iPhone app), I’ve gotten amazing tips from all around the country, and globe. One night I mentioned I was having a hard time deciding on dinner for that night and within minutes had dozens of folks shoot of tips and recommendations.

Skincare: this may seem out of place here, but after a few days on the road I realized that I was in need of sunscreen for my face. Car windows are tinted, but some rays come through, and when driving with the window down your skin is fully exposed. Driving is also quite tiring on the eyes and I can’t live without the Garnier Anti-Puff Eye Roller. I’m not entirely convinced of its anti-puff qualities, but the caffeine gel provides an instant cooling and a sensation that my eyes are more “awake.” I’ve also used cucumber slices on my eyes at night to help with the fatigued feeling.

I’ve also stocked my car with dried fruit for snacking, and made a habit of stopping at grocery stores in different regions so I can easily find local/regional foods such as candy, cookies or produce.

Cochon is simply delicious. I started off with the gumbo, then moved on to the fried boudin and mac & cheese. The boudin is tender and spicy, with the perfect crispy exterior. And the mac & cheese is cheesy but not overpowering or cloyingly rich.

The folks next to me had the boucherie plate and the ham hock–which is a very generous portion. And the folks on the other side of my table both had the oyster and bacon sandwich. They literally licked their lips and said, “yum” after the first bite.

My hotel was located right down the street from Emeril’s Delmonico. And while yes, the man and his food is, in my opinion, a bit over-hyped, I went in during cocktail hour for 1/2 price drinks and small plates. Along with my drink I had the fried oysters and small plate of chorizo. The chorizo was good, but not earth-shattering, the oysters, however, were a different story. Perfectly cooked, crispy on the outside and tender and creamy on the inside. I have to admit they were the best fried oysters I’ve ever eaten.

I also had the chance to get outside the tourist area and dine at Ralph’s on the Park. It’s a beautiful restaurant nestled across the street from City Park. I enjoyed the baked oysters and the crab beignets. The atmosphere is much more laid back than in other parts of the city and I was thrilled to dine among locals and talk city politics, post-Katrina life and cuisine.

And of course, I made a trip to Cafe Du Monde for beignets. Sorry, no cafe au lait for me. I just don’t like coffee.

And now on to Memphis for BBQ. New Orleans, I’ll be back for more next year!

Along my walk down the foliage-heavy streets I came upon a large crowd, all toting cameras, stopped in front of one of the large, pristine houses in the area. Maybe a tour group, I thought. I stopped to ask one of the picture snappers what the attraction was, and as the words left my mouth, I remembered. Of course, it must be Anne Rice’s old house.

Before there was Twilight, there were Anne Rice’s lush and sexy descriptions of vampires and New Orleans. I  read her books through high school and college. And while I never fully embraced the vampire culture, I did have a phase where I wore a lot of velvet, my favorite piece was a ankle-length black velvet skirt. I wore it at least once a week, usually with a little black t-shirt. Goth-lite if you will. But that was long ago, and here and now there was bright sun and backpack-clad tourists.

Indeed, the woman, probably in her 30s or early 40s, with her children and husband, confirmed my suspicions, “it’s the Anne Rice house,” she answered, as she pointed to the entry in her guide book.

Of course.

And at this, I once again become the very self-aware tourist. I have a problem when traveling, I want to snap lovely pics, but at the same time not look like a tourist. One of my proudest traveling moments was many years ago in Paris when some stopped me and asked me for directions, thinking I was a native—it was probably the scarf. But still such self-conscious habits make it difficult to fully enjoy my travels. I understand this—but still my silly habits persist.

But now was not the time for inner soul-searching. I was hungry and wanted sugar. Sucre was the perfect answer to my grumbling stomach. The lemon curd gelato was velvety and the perfect blend of sweet and tart. I couldn’t eat another bite so took a French macaroon to go. There are so many other treats to choose from, and this being the week before Easter, there was a plethora of chocolate bunnies and eggs. If only I could eat everything I see.

That’s the other kink in my travel plans. I simply can’t fit in all the food I want at each destination. Perhaps this means I’ll have to return.

To walk off my dessert, I took a detour to Layfayette Cemetery #1 to take some photos.

The pie won. I devoured about 3/4 before I waived the white napkin. According to the waitress they can serve up apporx. 100 pies on a busy weekend between whole pies and slices.

But lest you think I’m spending my days eating nothing but dessert, I in fact had lunch first–the soft shell crab salad from the Columbia Cafe. A great little place tucked away on a quiet street corner.

The inside has a run-down roadhouse feeling, the chairs slightly wobbly, and tables made of old wood. I sat down in one of several dining areas and ordered an iced-tea, cheeseburger and onion rings. Within a few minutes the waitress, clad in a Meers t-shirt, delivered my food in pie tin–the chosen platter for the burgers. So how was it?

It was good, delicious. But was it drive-several-hours-out-of-your-way good? Hmmm, that’s where I think it fell short. The burger was full of flavor and juicy, but frankly I’ve had other delicious burgers in my time. The onion rings are beer battered and extremely rich. I couldn’t finish my plate–there was simply too much food.

Bottom line, if you’re nearby, you should stop for a taste of the locally raised longhorn and to see a little piece of history.

One of the diners was kind enough to take a photo of me in front of the restaurant. He was there with his wife and told me they had just moved to Oklahoma andwere  getting to know their new state. He also informed me that the first parking meter was installed in Oklahoma City, hence the reason he suggested I stand in front of the now-defunct meter for the photo.

So when I heard that snow was quickly approaching Denver, I could think of nothing else, not Rocky Mountain Oysters, not wild game, not authentic Mexican food, and certainly not a tour around the city. My only reaction was to pack my bags and hit the highway before any sort of inclement weather fell on the city. And I did.

But what does that say about my ability to enjoy this road trip? Probably the same thing my therapist said to me years ago—that my pursuit of perfection would make me miserable.

It’s true. In addition to my desire to tour the country, I want to take perfect pictures and eat the perfect food. And by ‘perfect’ I don’t always mean good or the best, but what I imagine to be the most true or authentic experience for that exact moment in time and place. I imagine small diners off the Interstate where an older woman makes homemade pies and the soda fountain remains active, and of course under a sunny sky. The problem is that my expectations aren’t always realistic, and often don’t exist at all.

So I will continue to snap textured photographs showing peeling paint from years of wear, but will try harder to appreciate each city as it is, not as I imagine it.