Nashville. If you’re a true foodie, the city does not evoke thoughts of country music. Instead, you’re dreaming about biscuits and fried chicken, the two foods that put Loveless on the map.
Like everything else I’ve found during my (roughly) three days in the South, Loveless was charming, quaint, kind, and friendly. Lots of “y’all,” “dear,” “baby,” young lady,” and “how ya doin’s.” As venerated as it is in the foodie world, Loveless is not flashy. A café, general store, and motel compound, it sits inconspicuously on Highway 100, 30 minutes outside of the city. Although it is technically “Nashville,” we drove through a bit of country road to reach the café, and I think it’s actually in a little suburb, Bellevue. If you’re not paying attention, you may even miss it; the sign isn’t even brightly colored.
Once you find Loveless, you’ll walk into one of the most amicable places with the sweetest waitresses. The only thing that beats that is the plate of warm biscuits that they set on the table covered with a simple red-checkered tablecloth.
The biscuits are served with little cups of strawberry, blueberry, and (surprisingly delicious) peach jam! The peach jam was our favorite, so we bought some at the general store. They even sold two-ounce pots, so I can take one back to Boston!
It took every ounce of self-control not to eat all the biscuits…and I didn’t! But I really did want to. I will never look at biscuits the same way ever again. Sorry, Boston University biscuits. I thought I loved you but…we’re breaking up.
I will confess that I probably would have eaten all the biscuits, but Loveless is also known for their fried chicken, and it would have been a real shame to come all this way and not try it. There was so much chicken. I had to call for reinforcements (grandma).
Again, Loveless has earned its reputation. The chicken was sublime. Yes, sublime. Which means it was super-amazing, because according to my writing professor, sublime is a very strong word. This is mighty-good chicken. It deserves a strong adjective.
Loveless serves its fried chicken piping hot, with delicate, crispy skin. The chicken is juicy and it melts in your mouth. I never understood what people meant when they described chicken as melt-in-your-mouth good. Now I do, because this chicken was just that. It was so good, I’m going to use sublime for a third time, and in doing so, I am probably committing a journalism faux-pas or two. Good thing I’m not a journalism major.
Please vist Loveless Cafe. Also, if I raved to much about everything, please set the bar low. Everything was horrible. (I’m joking, of course, but I want you to visit and form your own impressions.) Cheers, friends, and if you do anything, eat all the biscuits!