Asheville

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These gorgeous, properly paper-thin slices are from Iberian ham, served at the Asheville restaurant, Cúrate (from the best meal we had in Asheville, which is no small statement. See below.)

I had planned to hang alone in NYC last week for several days while Ann cut a literary swath across the eastern seaboard promoting her novel Stolen Child (which many of her fans and bookstore owners say is her best, I’m eager to report). My son, James, 24, recently moved to Charlotte, NC, and he too had last week free.

I suggested we meet in a city I’ve always, always wanted to go to, ever since my days at Duke 40 years ago: Asheville, North Carolina. James was game.

Asheville is a two-hour drive west from Charlotte, and James arrived at the airport exactly as I exited baggage. We carried on to Asheville where our room at the Hotel Arras, directly across the street from a central Confederate monument in mid-deconstruction. (This is a Kimpton hotel, a group whose hotels I’m always happy to stay at—unfailingly friendly service at this one). Happily our room was ready early. After dropping our bags in the room, we headed immediately on foot to one of the most noted and notable breweries in town: Burial.

Burial beer menu board.

We quickly learned that beer is served virtually everywhere here, from coffee shops to record stores. I’ve honestly never seen so many beers and so many places selling them in a single city. We mainly stuck to the area’s seeming specialty, the hazy IPA (not like the clear West Coast IPA style, our friendly Burial tap-master explained). They were all fascinating and delicious, especially the double dry hopped ones made around the corner from our hotel at DSSLVR, whose brew tanks are right next to the bar selling them. About as fresh as beer gets.

DSSLVR’s 15 tanks at left and bar at back.

Asheville is true to its reputation as an artsy, hippie mecca but pleasantly so. It’s an easy-going place, southern friendly, and the city is packed with restaurants, 123 sit-down establishments in a city of 94,000, according to

Stu Helm

(about whom more below). And every establishment, from the excellent art galleries to the bars and coffee houses and restaurants, invariably had gorgeous weathered, tongue-and-groove floors. Everything felt homey and natural and handmade.

To go along with the Burial beer, James had a bbq sandwich and I had the terrific burger below.

The following are a few highlights if you want to travel there …