Author: Patricia Lockhart

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Opinion The Last Word

Memphis is My Boyfriend: Inspired to Dance

Losing the “Covid 10” with fun classes at Collage Dance Collective (Photo: Courtesy Patricia Lockhart)

I have this saying, “I work on myself when it suits me.” And ever since 2020, when the world shut down and there was nothing to do, I’ve been dabbling in exercising. A long walk here, a hike through Stanky Creek there, PopSugar YouTube videos sprinkled throughout the week — I’ve done a little bit of everything. Through virtual classes offered by Fit4Mom and Downtown Yoga and outdoor exercise classes offered by Wolf River Conservatory, I was able to keep the Covid 15, a weight gain of 15 lbs., to a respectable Covid 10. But the way my body is set up, any weight gain was inevitable.

So at the beginning of 2022, I decided I wanted to switch up my workout routine. I spent most of January doing Zumba on my Nintendo Switch. But I found myself shortening the workouts. A 30-minute Zumba session turned to 15, and then quickly to 10. In February, my job had a steps challenge. So I was at least motivated to move more throughout the day so I wouldn’t “look bad” in front of my peers. It worked … mostly. But I was still in a fitness rut. Then a coworker mentioned wanting to sign up for an adult yoga class at the Collage Dance Collective. I knew that they had an amazing reputation for nurturing kids into incredible dancers, but I didn’t know that they extended their talent to adults, too. So I checked out their website and behold — dance classes.

Even though I love to dance, I didn’t want to engage in this new activity by myself. So I reached out to my best friend, my buddy, my forever date … my husband. His response came quickly and unstrained, “Immediately, no. No, babe. Not at all.” But I didn’t let the first “no” stop me. I asked a few more times throughout the week and surprisingly got the same answer. (A solid “no” if you weren’t sure.)

Not one to be thwarted, I decided to make it a Girls’ Date Night. So I reached out to a few of my girls and explained what I’d discovered. So, on a Wednesday, my sister and I arrived just in time for the Zumba workout. Here’s what I learned about myself: I have lost all of the cardio endurance I had gained in the past. My hips don’t really swivel or swerve. I can easily burn 500 calories in one hour. And Zumba is too much fun to be considered a workout.

I immediately signed up for Line Dancing on Friday, Yoga on Saturday, and Hip Hop Cardio on Monday. I had so much fun in Line Dancing. I clocked well over 4,000 steps while I moved and grooved. Because this was low-impact, I didn’t have to drag myself to the car afterwards. Hip Hop Cardio lets you listen to some of the coolest DJs while learning routines. So within three weeks, I found myself with a new exercise routine that didn’t feel like work at all. I absolutely love every dance class I have attended. So much so that I’ve signed up for the Adult Beginner’s Ballet Class. What do I know about ballet? Mostly nothing. Why did I sign up? Because I love adventures!

So now that I have an awesome exercise routine and can soon be called a ballerina, I needed an awesome reward to match it. There are three ways I reward myself: books, food, and experiences. And if I could mesh all three together — golden! With my TBR list being over 50 books and dancing at Collage being an experience within itself, the only choice left was food. But I wanted my food to compliment my new workouts, not hinder everything I’d done. I’m also not a lettuce type of girl. I need something flavorful and filling while being healthy at the same time. I found just the place right across the street.

Inspire Community Cafe serves some deliciously healthy foods. Coffee, tea, breakfast served all day, quesadillas, rice or quinoa bowls, chili, barbecue nachos, and smoothies! And that’s just the short version. I love their egg scrambles. Although, after a hard workout, there’s only one way to treat my inner child. That’s right — Choco-Monkey Pancakes! These pancakes are so delicious; they’re made from a gluten-free batter with chocolate chips sprinkled generously throughout the batter and topped with thickly sliced bananas. Usually, gluten-free bread items have a gritty taste to them, but I had honestly eaten these pancakes three or four times before I looked closely at the menu. All of their pancakes are gluten-free.

But if you’re not a pancake person, I would recommend an Egg-cellent. It’s scrambled eggs topped with your choice of veggies and meat. I ask for everything and the kitchen sink in mine. Pro-Tip: Get it with a side of toast and jelly. Oh, and an extra slice of bacon. The Breakfast Quesadilla is also delicious. But if you decide to go that route, be warned … it’s huge!

While Inspire Community Cafe serves breakfast all day, their lunch menu is not to be ignored either. The Slow-Cooked BBQ Chicken Quesadilla does not disappoint.

Both of these amazing places, the Collage Dance Collective and Inspire Community Cafe, can be found in Binghampton, at the corner of Tillman and Sam Cooper. The adult dance classes can range from $6 to $8 per class. A delicious meal at Inspire Community Cafe can range from $5 on up, depending on your appetite. But your experience at both places … priceless.

Gotta love it, mane!

Collage Dance Collective, 901-800-1873, IG: @collagedance;
Inspire Community Cafe, 901-509-8640, IG: @inspirecommunitycafe

Patricia Lockhart is a native Memphian who loves to read, write, cook, and eat. @realworkwife @memphisismyboyfriend

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

Memphis is My Boyfriend: Falling Isn’t for the Weak

Photo: Jesse Davis

One Sunday evening, around 6:30 p.m., my hubby and I decided that we wanted a good cup of coffee. Knowing that most good coffee places are closed at that hour, he did a quick search and found Society Memphis Skatepark and Coffee in Binghampton off Broad. We walked in fully expecting a jazzy coffee club scene. Did we read the well-lit signs? No. Did we ask why there were skateboards on the wall? No. Did we notice the guests in helmets and pads? No.

I’m using the pronoun “we” very loosely. My husband probably noticed all of those things and could have possibly pointed them out to me as we entered, but I was hyper-focused on coffee. And not just any coffee. But the good kind. The Cxffeeblack kind!

Cxffeeblack is just the right elixir to becoming a Cool Kid. (Photo: Jesse Davis)

After ordering coffee, I took a peek through what appears to be a back door. There were ramps! Ramps to the left. Ramps to the right! There were handrails and slopes and flying people! Well, they weren’t actually flying, but they were close. I immediately knew that I was in the presence of the Cool Kids. They were doing tricks, turns and … and … cool stuff. I’m sure all of the moves have names, but I honestly couldn’t tell you.

As I watched with my mouth wide open, my husband leaned over and said, “We should come back here.” And somewhere between pure awe and a coffee high, I agreed. I agreed to go skateboarding as a date night.

Fast forward to Friday night and I found myself nursing another cup of coffee to calm my nerves. (I know, I know. The coffee might have done the opposite, but it was still a great comfort.) The attendant confidently passed me my rental skateboard and left my hubby and me to our own devices. As I looked at the skaters enjoying themselves, I thought, “Maybe I should have signed up for skateboarding lessons.” Well, it was too late for shoulda-coulda-wouldas. I was there and I ain’t no chicken.

Within 15 minutes, I realized that I might not be a scaredy chicken, but I was definitely not a spring chicken. And 20 seconds after that realization, I came to terms that I was a scaredy chicken, too. Skateboarding is not an activity for the weak or the timid. My husband and I couldn’t figure out how these Cool Kids got both feet on the boards at the same time. Memphis miracles were happening before my very eyes! After 20 minutes of failing to even stand and move on the board, my eyes desperately said, “Somebody — anybody — help me!”

(Photo: Jesse Davis)

And just like that, Cool Kid S. M. Vazquez came to our embarrassing rescue. He showed us the proper way to stand on a skateboard, how to balance, and even a little physics. (Stuff about motion, center of gravity, and degrees of something or another. My math doesn’t “math” like everyone else’s.) Nevertheless, I was able to stand on the skateboard and balance. Not in motion, but not falling either. That was until he said that we could try to coast down a very small ramp.

This ramp was no higher than 2 feet off the ground with a generous slope. I stood at the top of the mini-Mount Everest (yes, I’m exaggerating) and got balanced. I found my center of gravity and pushed off very, very slowly. And very slowly, the ground came rushing to meet me like a long lost friend. Falling when you’re 7 is quite different than when you’re 37. All of my bones vibrated. When the vibrations ended, I felt like pieces of me were floating away. In some distance galaxy, Thanos had snapped his fingers and I was slowly dissolving away.

Cool Kid Vazquez and my hubby picked me and all my imaginary pieces off the ground. I blinked a few times back to reality and realized that I was still alive. No bones were broken, but my dignity had permanently stained the floor. The Cool Kid Vazquez mentioned a few tips, but I didn’t hear them. The bones in my ears hadn’t fully recovered.

Okay. I might be a little dramatic, but I fell. Off a skateboard. At age 37. Enough said.

I took a sip of Cxffeeblack, aka Liquid Courage, while my hubby tried the same thing. He fell, too.

Then I was back at the top of the ramp. Before I pushed off, I asked my hubby to hold my waist from the back and Cool Kid Vazquez to hold my wrists from the front. I was determined not to fall. So determined, in fact, that I did the only thing I could do in that situation.

I fell. Again. This time, I didn’t meet the floor quite so fast. I was guided down gently. It was then that Cool Kid Vazquez gave me this nugget of knowledge, “If you think you’re going to fall, get closer to the ground.”

After one hour, I was finally able to skateboard, and, yes, I’m using that term loosely. I could coast about 6 to 8 feet before losing momentum. And I’m satisfied with that. After falling, my goal was to never experience that again.

This date night showed me just how versatile Memphis is. Date night with Memphis doesn’t have to be food and movies. It can be drinking good coffee and almost breaking your rear in the process. Memphis is about making memories and having great stories to tell. This is one for the books.

Now that I’m writing this, I wonder if my hubby knew all along that this place was a skateboarding place and used coffee to lure me in.

Hmm … Gotta love it, mane!

Society Memphis: 901-746-8587, IG: @societymemphis

Patricia Lockhart is a native Memphian who loves to read, write, cook, and eat. @realworkwife @memphisismyboyfriend

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

Memphis is My Boyfriend: A Nostalgic Date Night

Photo: Pamela Mcadams | Dreamstime.com

Every date night with Memphis can’t be out in those streets. Especially with Covid lurking around. So I decided to bring Memphis home and just chill. In order to make this date night pop, ya girl gotta get the right eats.

When you think of Memphis, I bet you think about barbecue, Beale Street, and Elvis. That’s all good and everything, but I’m a native Memphian, not a touristy one. Yes, there’s a difference. (Just ask 10 native Memphians if they’ve ever been to Graceland and I’m sure nine will tell you, “Naw, mane! I’m from Memphis.”) When I think of Memphis, I think of tamales, hot wings, burgers, and Beale Street. Yeah, I love me some Beale Street. Issa whole vibe.

For this date night, I wanted to take a walk down memory lane.

As a little girl, we would ride the MATA bus everywhere. We would always start off by taking the 10 Watkins(1) and connecting to wherever we needed to go. In those days, it could be minutes or hours before you could get a connecting transit. So my mom, brothers, and I would shave off the time by going to Dyer’s Burgers on Watkins. Those burgers were, and still are, amazing — greasy, seasoned, and flavorful. I recall watching the cook fry up the burger in the grease and watching the burger patty float a little.

Finding a burger like Dyer’s within my “delivery area” was unheard of. Until I ran across James Michael Fisher, also known as Chef JBless, of A & J’s Food Delivery. It’s apparent that taste and flavor is a high priority for this Black-owned business. I initially hit him up on Instagram (@ajsfooddelivery901) for his wings. I was pleasantly surprised to find that his cost of wings hasn’t tripled like everyone else’s. So for my first time, I ordered some honey-gold wings and a burger and had it delivered to work. Y’all! That meal made my whole day! While the wings were on point, in price and in flavor, the burger took me back to my childhood days on Watkins. The burgers are well-seasoned, moist, and oh-so flavorful! So before leaving the house, I placed an order for wings, burgers, and fries.

Sidenote: Seriously, why are chicken wings so high? Chicken thigh prices haven’t doubled, and wings and thighs both come from the same chicken! Somebody make it make sense!

I first decided to get some tamales. Now, Mexican tamales are different from Black people’s tamales. As a very young child, before my days on Watkins, we stayed in Dixie Homes(2). Across the street from our projects(3), there was this man who sold tamales from a cart on the corner. I wasn’t too much taller than the cart itself, but as my mom and I approached the cart, I could smell the spices and flavor. My mom would pass me my tamales and I would grab the wrapping and gently unroll my delicious tamale. Y’all. Blessed!

There’s only one place that I know where I can get a tamale from my childhood. So with my audiobook on full blast, I drove to Orange Mound(4). Pop’s Tamales are amazing and remind me so much of the man on the corner with the tamale cart. Sometimes I wonder if it’s the same man. There, I bought seven tamales for $14: two for me to eat in the car, two to eat at home, and three for my hubby.

Now, I only had one more place to stop before heading home to meet Chef JBless. Buster’s! I have been a patron of Buster’s since my old college days back in ’03. But on this day, I wasn’t looking for liquor. I was looking for a very special beer, a beer with a name close to my Memphis heart. A beer that is just like how I like my men — dark and full of body. After much anticipation, Beale Street Brewing Co. released a peanut and banana porter, and it is available at Buster’s. I strolled in like a boss and headed straight back for the beer cooler. I grabbed my four-pack, blew Kahlúa a kiss, and checked out. I was in and out in under 15 minutes.

I had just pulled back in my driveway when I received a text from Chef JBless that my order had an ETA of 5 minutes. I cleared the coffee table, poured the beer like a pro, unwrapped my tamales, and welcomed in the hot wings, burgers, and fries. With the food and drinks ready to be devoured, there was only one last thing to do. We sat on the couch, streamed a little HBO Max, and exhaled before we inhaled.

Gotta love it, mane!

1 10 Watkins (n.) — a popular MATA route in Frayser

2 Dixie Homes (n.) — one of the Memphis Public Housing communities, 1938-2006

3 projects (n.) — a term given to Memphis Public Housing areas

4 Orange Mound (n.) — first African-American neighborhood built by and for African Americans, located in Southeast Memphis

A & J’s Food Delivery: 901-849-3981; IG @ajsfooddelivery901

Beale Street Brewing Co.: IG @bealestbrewingco

Patricia Lockhart is a native Memphian who loves to read, write, cook, and eat. Her days are filled with laughter with her four kids and charming husband. By day, she’s a school librarian and a writer, but by night … she’s asleep. @realworkwife @memphisismyboyfriend

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Opinion The Last Word

Memphis is My Boyfriend: Voodoo and Rage

From powdered sugar to smashing things down to a powder. (Photo: Courtesy Patricia Lockhart)

Everyone knows that Memphis has a rich history. And its history of voodoo runs deep. From Voodoo Village(1) to spiritual shops nestled in neighborhoods all around (if only you know where to look), the name Mojo City still rings true. This night, I partook in voodoo of a sweeter variety. But my rage, well, it was an unexpected surprise.

Voodoo Cafe, located in Bartlett, has been serving up sweet little beignet voodoo dolls for over a year. I opted to get a traditional beignet first. It was sprinkled with sweet powdered sugar. Well, sprinkled isn’t the best word. They are absolutely avalanched in powdered sugar. I took a quick look around, just to survey the other practitioners. Some people were eating their beignets with a fork. It brought me back to a time in high school biology class when I dissected a little piglet. Shaking the image out of my head, I picked up my little man, stretched my mouth wide, and took a bite. Viciously and without mercy, I ripped the head off with my teeth. Why? Well, because that’s just the type of girl I am. But I must warn you: When you bite down on a traditional beignet, do … not … breathe. If you allow one tiny exhale to escape your lips, you are guaranteed to get powdered sugar everywhere. Not that I care, but in case any “professionals” don’t want to get their hands dirty.

And if powdered sugar doesn’t tickle your fancy, they have a variety of flavors that are sure to delight even your darkest pleasures. While I thoroughly enjoyed the traditional beignet, I couldn’t say no to the Witch Doctor. It’s a beignet topped with spiced apples with a caramel drizzle. This treat is truly hypnotizing. (Yes, I ate two. Who in their right mind would eat only one?)

One day, I might be brave and try the Dead Elvis (peanut butter, banana, honey, and bacon), Grave Expectations (marshmallow fluff and crushed Oreos), The Yeti (sweet cream and shredded coconut), and Black Magic (Nutella). Not all in one sitting. I plan on standing up to reset between each beignet.

Coffee apparently pairs well with beignets. My Drank(2) was the Guji Mane Remix. It’s brewed with the Guji Mane coffee from Memphis’ own Cxffeeblack. Trust me, this is a collaboration you must experience. Although the Guji Mane coffee is delicious served black, I can appreciate Voodoo’s Remix. They add chocolate and raspberry to it! Yum.

After getting a tasteful alignment from Voodoo Cafe, I was ready to release a little bit of rage. The Rage Room, Craze, is located conveniently close to Voodoo Cafe in Bartlett. (Suspish.) We signed in and slipped on our protective gear. They had rap music bumping through the speakers. I was getting hype, hype! I was talking to myself like, “Yeah! I’m finna break some stuff.” I legit thought I was about to “Set. It. Off.” up there. But I knew I was in trouble when I picked up the sledgehammer. Y’all! It’s heavy. The movies and home renovation channels make it look so easy.

So I decided to switch tactics. I gently laid down the sledgehammer and picked up a bat. This junt was heavy, too! It was nothing like the bat that my son used in his peewee sports. This was a metal bat, and it felt suspiciously like it was filled with concrete. I looked around for something lighter. There was nothing. My hubby reminded me that the goal was to break stuff, not play around, so I picked up a glass mug and I swung. Have you ever heard something metal colliding with glass? It’s loud. Like really loud. I jumped and thanked God that I had already peed before. (Or else my night would have ended then.) While my husband wielded the sledgehammer and broke stuff like a mad man, I secretly wondered, “Who has this much rage?” I began to doubt my decision, until my husband brought out a typewriter. It was so very satisfying to watch the keys fly through the air as the sledgehammer landed. I shattered it into a million pieces. Then I demolished a TV, a monitor, a glass bowl, some plates, and more glass trinkets. My hubby turned a metal file cabinet into scraps and broke a desk in half with just one swing. Huffing and puffing, I looked at my watch. It had only been 13 minutes! We raged until we couldn’t rage anymore. And I smiled the entire time.

This is just one of the reasons why I love my Boyfriend Memphis. I can regale in Memphis’ history while eating a sweet treat and end my night safely releasing some stress. Gotta love it, mane!

Book the Craze Rage Room at crazememphis.com; learn more about Voodoo Cafe at voodoocafebartlett.com.

Definitions:

1 Voodoo Village (n.) — Saint Paul Spiritual Holy Temple in Southeast Memphis

2 Drank (n.) — It’s like a drink, but better and with more emphasis and respect

Patricia Lockhart is a native Memphian who loves to read, write, cook, and eat. Her days are filled with laughter with her four kids and charming husband. By day, she’s a school librarian and a writer, but by night … she’s alseep. @realworkwife @memphisismyboyfriend

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

Memphis is My Boyfriend: A Flocking Good Time

Patricia Lockhart (Photo: Patricia Lockhart, Betsy Spring)

Have you ever been to a restaurant and were just sitting there minding your own business? No? Well, me neither! I stay ear-hustling1 to everyone around me.

One night, a friend and I were celebrating everything, and at the same time absolutely nothing, at the Hen House Wine Bar on S. Mendenhall. Although we made reservations, we found the bar to be much more inviting. I promise this had nothing to do with the barmen Matt and Patrick, but … if you know, you know. The way they shake the cocktails is mesmerizing.

I decided to start the night off with the cocktail, Hound Dog Unleashed. It is made with Blue Note Bourbon whiskey, which is crafted right here in Memphis. When you start a night with anything made by Memphis, you know you have to sip and savor. And that’s exactly what I did. I nursed this cocktail for most of the night. Trying to chug it would have left me thinking my lemon-pepper-steppers were blue suede shoes walking on the cobblestones Downtown. My friend started her night off with a gorgeous glass of red wine. And if you’re into wine, this is the place to be. (Duh?! It has “Wine Bar” in the name.) They even offer wine flights! The next time I go, which will be soon, I’m going to get one of those to un-share2.

What started out as a date with Memphis ended in a salacious affair with Brussels sprouts. (Photo: Patricia Lockhart, Betsy Spring)

For our appetizer, we both decided to go with the Brussels sprouts. You know, we gotta get our greens in because veggies are important. These greens were fried on Mount Olympus by the personal head chef of Zeus and drizzled with sweet hot honey nectar of the forbidden fruit. (Lifts hands in praise!) These are the best Brussels sprouts I have ever had. I don’t know how something can be crispy and succulent at the same time, but the chef did that! We also had the Brie with poached pears, honey, and sourdough bread. Needless to say, we sent back a happy plate3. Yum!

Because we weren’t sure if we were in love with the sprouts or if it was just an infatuation, we thought it would be best to try them again. Trust me, nothing is worse than falling head over heels for something only to realize that the love was fleeting and circumstantial. But alas, they did not disappoint. It is safe to say that I will begin a mildly unhealthy situation-ship, or obsession, with Hen House’s Brussels sprouts.

Via ear-hustling, I discovered that the ladies next to us ordered the poutine. It’s a bowl of fries, topped with braised beef and cheese curds in a red wine and mushroom gravy. In my attempt not to eye-hustle as well as ear-hustle, I just stared out of my peripheral. These ladies were eating this dish with a gusto and audible moaning. Yes, audible moaning. So you know this was good, good!

When our food arrived, I noticed the people at the table behind me to the left do the look, point, and whisper. I said to myself, “Yeah, I know you want this. But it’s mine, allllllll mine.” I ordered the local beef cut with puréed cauliflower. Bless the whole cow who sacrificed themselves so I could eat such a divine piece of meat. The meat was so tender and flavorful. I had inner battles whether to eat the meat by itself or use it to sop up some of the puréed cauliflower. Which was equally delicious and soul-watering4. I wish I could give you more information about the fried chicken sandwich my friend ordered, but I was so caught up in my own heavenly experience, I couldn’t ear-hustle properly.

After a great meal, my friend and I retired to our cars to witness a truly hilarious end to our date with Memphis. Instead of reversing out of their parking spot, some of our fellow diners decided to drive forward. Over the shrubbery, over the sidewalk, and straight onto Mendenhall. But they didn’t drive away. Instead they circled back to the very same parking lot that they took an illegal exit from.

Gotta love Memphis, mane!

1 ear-hustling (v.): listening and being nosy to every conversation around you.

2 un-share (v.): the intention of sharing with someone, but deciding against it.

3 happy plate (adj.): a plate that is happy because all the food has been consumed off of it.

4 soul-watering (adj.): something that is good to all your senses and your soul!

Patricia Lockhart is a native Memphian who loves to read, write, cook, and eat. Her days are filled with laughter with her four kids and charming husband. By day, she’s a school librarian and a writer, but by night … she’s alseep. @realworkwife @memphisismyboyfriend