Best of Nashville
My husband calls it “The People’s Republic of East Nashville.” His hyperbole about our neighborhood reflects a larger truth. East Nashvillians have always felt a sense of separateness from the rest of the city across the Cumberland.
That sense of distinction was enhanced by the 1998 tornado, which left in its immediate wake a land of blue tarps and stumps. In retrospect, however, it was an ill wind that blew new life into the old ’hood. Insurance money rehabbed houses. And West Siders who came cum chain saws—or just to gawk—discovered an alternative to suburbia: an urban neighborhood with a small-town feel. After 20 years of slow reclamation and minimal outside investment, East Nashville got hot.
Post tornado, almost two-dozen restaurants and bars have opened, many in recycled architecture, exploiting the district’s funky character. An old gas station is now Café Margot, and a 1930s pharmacy houses Chapel Bistro. Bongo Java roasts coffee in a former electronics repair shop, and Family Wash serves pub food in an old laundromat.
New retail enhances the street life. Turnip Truck—the auto-body-shop-turned-health-food-grocery—offers Provence bread and homemade soup. Hordes gather at the Garage Mahal, the former tow truck shed that’s home to the annual Tomato Art Festival. Parents push kids in strollers to Nitwit & Kids, Generation Xers browse Earth Stuph and Hip Zipper. Pet owners walk Fido and Fiona to Wags & Whiskers and the Dog Barked Meow.
The high population of canines—nobody can rescue just one—has made the district home to the city’s first dog park. Bipeds recreate at Shelby Park and Bottoms, where you can not only see the river, but stroll, blade or bike beside it.
|
---------------------------Advertisement---------------------------
|
|
---------------------------Advertisement---------------------------
|
But there’s still an old East Nashville at the heart of the new one, a propensity to take business-as-usual and give it a tweak. One morning when I was getting my daily caffeine fix at Sweet 16th, I watched an MTA driver disembark with a passenger, dash into the bakery and order a cup of coffee and a lemon square before reboarding. I rest my case.