Nashville Noir
“I was feeling jet-lagged although there’s only a one-hour time difference between Nashville and Cabot Cove. Maybe “travel-tired” is a better way to describe it. But I knew that if I fell asleep, I’d be groggy when it was time to meet Washburn. Instead, I took a quick shower, relying on it to wake me up, dressed in an outfit that I felt would be appropriate for any restaurant setting, and was waiting for him in the lobby when he arrived.
The restaurant was only a short ride from the hotel, in an... old, three-story brick building on Broadway. A sign announced that it was called Merchants.
We passed through an attractive grill downstairs and were escorted to a second-floor dining room, where a pianist played show tunes on a small, white grand piano. Our table was nicely set on a sparkling white tablecloth. Jamal ordered a perfect Manhattan; I opted for a glass of house white wine.
Our waiter left us menus and a sheet recounting the history of the building before it was a restaurant and during the time when lower Broadway was not the flourishing neighborhood it is now.MoreLess
The restaurant was only a short ride from the hotel, in an... old, three-story brick building on Broadway. A sign announced that it was called Merchants.
We passed through an attractive grill downstairs and were escorted to a second-floor dining room, where a pianist played show tunes on a small, white grand piano. Our table was nicely set on a sparkling white tablecloth. Jamal ordered a perfect Manhattan; I opted for a glass of house white wine.
Our waiter left us menus and a sheet recounting the history of the building before it was a restaurant and during the time when lower Broadway was not the flourishing neighborhood it is now.MoreLess
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