Levon at Saint Nicky's
1. Listen to (different) live music downtown at Alley Taps
When friends ask to “go downtown and see live music,” Acme Feed & Seed and Robert's Western World are my safe spaces. My goals for a last-minute Broadway visit are simple: I want to avoid bursting an eardrum, getting puked on and Morgan Wallen covers. Today I am happy to add Alley Taps to my safe list.
Tucked snugly away on the “other side” of Printers Alley (between Church and Commerce), the cozy bar is all about the basics, serving draft beer and interesting covers to in-the-know locals and enterprising tourists. So why don’t you know about it? I have some guesses. First, their last Instagram post was pre-pandemic. Second, their website is all but nonexistent (which I still consider a venue bona fide because I grew up in the ’90s). But mostly, you don’t know about Alley Taps because they seem to have just been humming along, a little under the radar, since they opened in 2018. The small stage is set far enough off the street that you can’t see (or even always hear) music from the door. The last time I went, I had to sidestep a (possibly strategic) construction barricade to get in. And the tourists in front of me? They passed it by without a glance on their determined march to Broadway.
In my book, this is cause for a parade. I spend a lot of time downtown, and I only learned about Taps recently from a bartender at Makeready Libations as I bemoaned the lack of bro-country-free venues. Is Alley Taps the next Station Inn? I doubt it. But it’s got a great wooden bar, a chill vibe and a peephole in the wall you should definitely go looking for after a few drinks. Most of all, it’s got people onstage who know enough about music to teach you that, no, Rod Stewart did not write “Reason to Believe” — Tim Hardin did — which means you’ll leave not only with a little bit of knowledge but also a new tune for your playlist.
Edley's Turkey Fingers
2. Eat Fried Turkey Fingers at Edley’s Bar-B-Que
Speaking of Rod Stewart, if there’s one food finger that has all the luck and all the fame, it’s chicken. But there’s a new digit in town, and it is the weird and wonderful turkey.
When I saw this special on the blackboard at Edley’s — listed simply as “Fried Fingers” — I had to know more. If you fry turkey annually, like tens of thousands of Americans, you know why people risk death (!) to do it. Frying turkey yields crispy, seasoned skin outside and juicy meat within. The same applies to the turkey finger, though the route to get there is different.
Edley’s smokes a whole turkey, chills it, slices it, and then batters and fries the “fingers.” The result is a delightfully unholy union between a rib (because of the thick cut) and fried chicken (because it’s battered, golden brown and crunchy). Edley’s serves it with jalapeño ranch, but I recommend barbecue sauce — It gives the whole thing a nostalgic “I’d like the chicken fingers from the kids menu” vibe, but in a meaty, grown-up portion.
3. Try Studio Pilates — the workout for people who hate workouts
I hate exercise. When people talk about their “runner’s high,” I have to physically stop my eyeballs from rolling out of my head. So when a friend pitched Pilates as “a workout that kind of leaves you feeling like you got a massage,” I was in. I’ve been admonished by more than one massage therapist to “please try to relax,” so the idea of releasing tension while exercising sounded too good to be true. But 95 classes later, I have drunk all the Kool-Aid.
Here’s why:
Classes are 45 minutes. This is a timeframe I can commit to. If you’re near a studio, in The Nations or East Nashville, you can conceivably work out, stretch, and be home within an hour. And every class is different, so it never becomes predictable or boring.
Reformer Pilates is an individual sport. The person next to you has no idea if you’re throwing on all your springs to push yourself, or if you’re opting to be a lazy piece. I enjoy that privacy. And because every exercise has intensity options, you can make any class work for any strength level.
These people are chill. Do founder Elena Madrid and her instructors all look like fitness models who could crack walnuts with their thighs? You bet. Do they act like that? No. The instructors will help you as much or as little as you like, and they won’t judge you if you come screeching in, five minutes late, covered in applesauce because toddlers. I did not know “laid-back” was something I could look for in a “gym,” but it was my missing piece.
Pilates is good for pretty much everyone. Pregnant women, seniors and yes, even men. The website lists a few of the benefits: stronger core, muscle development, increased flexibility, better balance and posture. I believe all this to be true — in part because when I stepped in a hole in heels last night, I used my core (which now exists!) to stop myself from falling into a party tractor on Broadway.
Try your first class for just $15, or find a friend who’s a member and use their guest pass for free. And enjoy being able to touch your toes again.
Pasta at Nicky's
4. Pet (and adopt!) all the very good boys at Saint Nicky’s
“Unhinged.” When owners Caroline and Tony Galzin set out to turn Nicky’s Coal Fired into Saint Nicky’s again this year, that was the bar they wanted to clear. I’m thrilled to report they did. (I had to duck to keep from snagging my antlers on streamers as I walked through.)
As far as advice for attending, here’s what I recommend:
Get there by 4. They open at 3, but to get the full experience, you need darkness. Luckily, sunset happens at a horrific 4:32 p.m. (suck a tailpipe, Daylight Saving Time!), and this is the only way to make that work for you.
Order the buratta and the Spicy Lobster Spaghetti. The Christmas Tree pastas are adorable, of course, and one is even vegan. But they’ve got nothing on the current burrata setup (pickled and roasted beets, orange-Champagne vinaigrette), or on Maine lobster covered in Tony’s spicy tomato sauce.
Remember an 18 percent service charge/tip is now included in all Nicky’s prices (though you could always throw ’em a little extra — holiday cheer and all that).
Don’t miss the Tropical Tidings tent. It’s currently on the back porch (moving to the front next week), and it is the place to live out your Griswoldian “Mele Kalikimaka” fantasy. Like all good tiki drinks, these are stronger than they are sweet — just try to have more than one Christmas in Cancun without falling into a heater. But be sure to finish with a Frozen Eggnog inside.
Go this Sunday, Dec. 10, to get all this goodness plus puppies!
The pet adoption event, hosted by Tiny but Mighty in conjunction with Nashville Humane Association and the Pet Community Center, is happening from 4 to 6 p.m. Take a pic with Santa, pet the pups, and buy a pizza. Saint Nicky’s will be donating $1 from every pie sold Sunday to the NHA and PCC — an important step when only 23 percent of dogs are adopted and 34 percent are bought from breeders.
5. Tell me I am not a crackpot: dessert at Yolan
I am not a fan of scatological humor. I am also not a 13-year-old boy. But I’ve been to Yolan a few times now, and I have to ask: Are the desserts trolling me? Here’s why I wonder:
Dessert at Yolan
Dessert at Yolan
In the first picture from 2020, an upscale brownie appears to be pooping a Tootsie Roll. In the second, a strawberry situation that could not be more phallic if it were on a shelf at Pleasures appeared on my plate just this summer. So I have to ask: Am I a crackpot?
Dessert at Yolan
The world doesn’t seem bothered. Noelle Marchetti, executive pastry chef at The Joseph Hotel, was nominated for a James Beard Award in 2023 — the very year I was served the strawberry torpedo. And I just don’t get it. Despite my aesthetic concerns, my biggest complaint is that I don’t remember anything about these desserts other than that one was chocolate and one was strawberry. That’s a problem when you’ve got pastry chefs like Keaton Vasek and Michael Werrell to compete against. I can recall every bite I’ve ever had of theirs, from the “cream ice cart” at The Continental to the Spring Herb, Cucumber and Olive Oil Sorbet at Audrey. And while the JBF secret diners must’ve had a prettier experience than I did at Yolan, I’d be shocked if it was that much tastier.
The bottom line (no below-the-belt pun intended) is this: If you’re going to serve food that looks like an exploding Vienna sausage, that can’t be the most memorable thing about it.
