A Journey Through Kentucky Horse Country

"Going to the new MoMA is like seeing a friend after they've been on Extreme Makeover. You instantly admire the improved parts, miss the old lovable bits, and recognize you may need time to adjust." --Overheard at MoMA After two-and-a-half years squatting in Queens, the beloved MoMA will re-open to the public in its Manhattan home this Saturday (Nov. 20). Go north of 42nd Street and you can feel Midtown quiver with excitement. Architect Yoshio Taniguchi's re-imagining of the Museum of Modern Art launches a rush of emotion, triggers an avalanche of ideas, and will leave visitors twirling around inside the new-and-improved building like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music. More space, more visual surprises The Museum of Modern Art was founded in 1929 with the ambitious mandate of its first director, Alfred H. Barr Jr., to be "the greatest museum of modern art in the world". Many would say it's lived up to Barr's heady challenge. Over the years, the museum's seen two locations and three major additions/structural changes: Goodwin-Stone's 1939 building, Phillip Johnson's 1951 annex, and the 1964 renovation. The latest incarnation of the MoMA is the most dramatic yet, and some of the best news of all is that it's increased its exhibition space from 85,000 to an impressive 125,000 square feet. All six curatorial departments--Architecture and Design, Drawings, Painting and Sculpture, Photography, Prints and Illustrated Books, and Film and Media--are well represented. To take it all in easily takes a full day; you'll want time to linger over new acquisitions (there are many) and say hello to important works of 20-century art, like Picasso's 1907 LesDemoiselles D'Avignon, that held prominent spots in the old MoMA for years. Surprises await those who take a stroll through the new MoMA, and there's no denying that New York City is an integral part of the new museum. Grayed floor-to-ceiling windows seemingly hover in mid-air, allowing the city to peek in to such an extent that it becomes an important back-drop to the art. Sections of the Museum Tower are laced with catwalk passages that not only inspire vertigo, but confirm the vastness of the vertical space, and the vastness of the collection. It all impresses. "The MoMA is breath-taking; the new space and installations opened my eyes to works that I had been appraising in the same familiar ways over the years," says Astrid Persans, a former Associate in the museum's International Program. First impressions If you go to the MoMA on or around Opening Day (which will be free to the public, by the way), your first impressions are not likely to have much to do with the soaring, pristine-lined building at all. Instead, expect to see protesters at the front doors wearing giant twenty-dollar bill sandwich boards. The price of admission at the new MoMA is now a wince-worthy $20 per person--$8 more than its former ticket price (making it one of the most expensive museums in the world). Activists have set up a website that claims that the funds used for the museum's renovation "could have provided the old MoMA's 1.8 million annual visitors with free admission for forty years." And you will enter the new museum with dollar signs in your eyes. The first whiff of money and the $425 million renovation comes within steps inside the ample, airy lobby, which you can now access from W. 53 and W. 54 streets. All of the important entrance areas--admissions, information, coat-check--are also wisely spread apart, aiding with crowd control. While the space's cool slate gray and white tones and industrial flavor could easily veer into the realm of uninviting, the aesthetic and dimensions are surprisingly welcoming--more clean and Zen than anything else. The renovation is intelligent. Wend your way through the lobby and you're greeted by a wide low-slung stairs (which invite sitting) and expansive views of the Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Sculpture Garden--a space that features 31 works of art and that Taniguchi refers to as "perhaps the most distinctive single element of the Museum today." He sought to transform the area into a true "an urban oasis" and succeeded, by punching up the "garden" elements and planting beech, elm, and birch trees. Philip Johnson's original 1953 design is preserved yet enhanced by other changes, which include an expanded southern terrace that'll be used for formal outdoor dining at The Modern restaurant. What could be more wonderful that tucking into diver scallop tartare while gazing upon Claes Oldenburg's Geometric Mouse (1975)? The indoor-outdoor spirit of the Sculpture Garden is the essential element of the new museum, and the key to appreciating the success of the renovation. Director Glen Lowry describes the MoMA as "a laboratory," a statement that implies experimentation and points to the museum's current curatorial vision. "There's more of a focus on contemporary art now, but no real historical context or easy way for viewers to understand what they're looking at," says Virgil DeVoldere, a member of MoMA's Junior Associates and co-founder of the art gallery Slingshot Project. Many works on the lower floors seem placed together at random-by color or shape or with no obvious connection at all. Meanwhile, older arguably more important pieces are hidden away on the upper floors. Go from frame to frame past Cezanne's slightly skewed still-lifes and Picasso's deconstructed portraits on the fifth floor and you get a sense of progress. Problem is, most visitors will make a beeline to the first floor atrium, which connects from the lobby. There, they'll be greeted by Barnett Newman's hulking, tension-producing sculpture, Broken Obelisk, a work that clashes with Monet's neighboring Water Lilies. Their relationship is unclear, but the fact that Water Lilies are no longer hung on angled walls to create an immersive environment, and come off as simply paintings, is what'll really leave people scratching their heads. Devoldere adds, "The biggest mistake for me was to put Matisse and Brancusi in the stairwell. At times, the art's placement seems more decorative than anything else." Clearly opinions over the success and short-comings of the museum's changes will be up for debate for a long time, but one thing is certain: We have entered a new era in modern art and museum history. Art Critic John Russell once said, "When art is made, we are made new with it." The same can be said for the MoMA.

I am not a Yogi. And considering my feverish lifestyle, horrendous eating habits, and stubborn rationalism, that's the understatement of the year.But Yogi or not, some of my happiest holidays have been spent at yoga retreats. When it comes to inducing sheer serenity, restoring vigor, flushing toxins from both mind and body, nothing beats these mystical ashrams (schools, places of learning) with their vegetarian meals and quiet hillside settings, their twice-daily asanas (languid stretching exercises) and moments of meditation, their gentle people. And when it comes to cost, nothing else in the vacation field even remotely compares. At a score of residential, countryside ashrams clustered near both coasts, the charge for room and all three meals amounts--if you can believe it--from $45 a day. Why so cheap? Because the meals are vegetarian, the sites are often donated, and the staff works for free, performing karma yoga (selfless service). Why, then, aren't they inundated with guests? Because the public, in general, recoils from Eastern thought, equating all such teachings with those of Sun Myung Moon, assuming dreadful acts of brainwashing or abandoned conduct, as at the turbulent Rajneeshpuram in Oregon or the doomed Guyanese community of mad Jim Jones. As applied to the yoga movement, nothing could be further from the truth. A philosophy of life, not a religion; a questing science, not a dogma--yoga is the most tolerant of creeds, its practitioners good-humored, broad-minded, and modest, non authoritarian. At the U.S. ashrams, nothing is mandatory other than attendance at the asanas (physical exercises or postures) and silent meditations--and that, only to screen out persons who are simply seeking a cheap crashpad for their vacations. Apart from those two limited daily sessions, no one cares what you do or where you go, or whether you even attend lectures of the guru. He or she is regarded with affection, called guruji or swamiji (dear little guru, dear little swami), but treated as fallible, and certainly not as a Godhead. Some instructors at the ashrams--even a director or two--will stress their distance from Hindu theology and their pursuit of yoga primarily for its physical and calming benefits. Though the residential ashrams in North America number far more than a score, not all have guaranteed staying power. Those that do, include: The Sivananda Ashram Yoga Retreat On Paradise Island, the Bahamas: You've heard of Club Med, now meet Club Meditation (at a fifth the price). The ashram that's a 150-bed tropical resort, it sits next to sugary-white sands, across the bay from Nassau on four beachfront acres donated to the Sivananda Vedanta movement by an admirer; the popular, otherworldly complex has now been in operation for over 30 years. You arise at dawn to meditate on the beach, proceed immediately (and before breakfast) to a two-hour exercise class (asana), partake at last of a mammoth vegetarian brunch, and are then allowed to do nothing at all (except swim, snorkel, and sun) until 4 p.m., when a second round of meditation and asanas is followed by supper at 6 p.m., meditation at sunset, and bed. Accommodations range from airy dorms in a colonial building ($59 per person per night, including meals and exercise classes) to double rooms in modern cabins ($$69 to $79, to campsites ($50) overlooking the sea. Contact Sivananda Ashram Yoga Retreat, P.O. Box N7550, Paradise Island, Nassau, Bahamas (phone 800/873-YOGA), or e-mail Nassau@sivanda.org. Web site: sivananda.org/nassau. Kripalu CenterNear Lenox, Massachusetts: In the many wings and 450 rooms of a former Jesuit monastery, on a hillside overlooking Lake Mahkeenac in the Berkshire Mountains of western Massachusetts, Kripalu is one of the largest of all ashrams, with one of the most varied programs--its brochure resembles a college catalog crammed with courses and options. Soothed by the ministrations of a largely unpaid staff of volunteers, you exercise, meditate, wander, and soak; attend seminars; dine in complete silence at breakfast but converse at dinner. Accommodations are comfortable, in spacious dorms (6 to 22 people) of wide-frame, wooden double-deckers, or in pleasant private rooms, and yet the all-inclusive charge--for housing and all three meals, exercise classes, and most other activities--is a reasonable $106 to $120 per person in the dormitories, $176 to $225 per person in a standard double room. Write or phone Kripalu Center, P.O. Box 793, West St., Route 183, Lenox, MA 01240 (phone 800/741-7353 or 413/448-3152 (within state), or visit its Web site at kripalu.org/). Two in New York State The Yoga Ranch, at Woodbourne, New York: About two hours by bus from New York City, it occupies a stunning setting atop a wooded hill, looking down into a valley and up onto another hill, the mountains of the Catskills receding into the distance. Dotted about are open areas devoted to organic farming or used by grazing deer. On the extensive grounds, a one-acre pond is deep enough for swimming, while nearby stands a stone-faced sauna, wood fired, rock-heated, and steamed by pure, mountain spring water--one-of-a-kind. "You'll be doing good for a lot of people if you recommend us," said the co-director at the end of our talk. "They come here with jangled nerves, and then leave completely restored." The charge for that revival is an astonishing $60 per person on weekdays, $55 on weekends, $15 more for an apartment with a private bath (half price for children ages 5-12, free for children under 5), including yoga asanas (exercises), meditation, accommodation in twin or triple rooms, and two vegetarian meals. Write or phone Sivananda Ashram Yoga Ranch, P.O. Box 195, Budd Road, Woodbourne, NY 12788 (phone 845/436-6492, or visit the Web site at sivananda.org/ranch.htm). Ananda Ashram, in Monroe, New York: Despite its daily teachings of such classic yoga regiments as hatha yoga (stretching) and pranayama ( breath control), the 41-year-old Ananda Ashram has a far less pronounced Eastern orientation than some others: it schedules meditation for as late as 9 a.m. on weekends, invites guest teachers from all religious disciplines, and presents classes in creative music, drama, dance, holistic healing, and visual arts. Less than 90 minutes by bus from New York City, at the base of the Catskill Mountains, it occupies 85 wooded acres, including a private lake, and houses 405visitors in three main guesthouses, for an all-inclusive room, meals, and tuition charge (on seven-night stays) of $280 to $400 per week (dorm vs. private double). Discounts are available for couples, students, seniors, and youths under 18. Contact the Ananda Ashram, 13 Sapphire Road, Monroe, NY 10950 (phone 845/782-5575 or visit the Web site at anandaashram.org/). Four in CaliforniaThe Yoga Farm, at Grass Valley, California: Cheapest of the residential ashrams--$45 per person in a tent, $55 per person in triple rooms, $65 (double) and $115 (single) in several others, including vegetarian meals and two yoga classes--but the smallest also, with space for just 40 guests, the farm was the personal favorite of the late Swami Vishnu Devananda, founder of the Sivananda movement. Like thousands of others over the years who have driven up the 50 or so miles from Sacramento and then followed dirt roads to the isolated setting, he valued the special simplicity and quiet of this rustic, three-building resort, with its changeless routine of meditation/exercises/free time on weekdays, its weekend seminars on yoga philosophies and practices like vegetarian cooking, Ayurveda, and panca karma (an ancient method of flushing toxins from the body). In the free-time period, as you hike to the top of an adjoining hill and lie daydreaming on its crest, you see the majestic Sierras spread out before you. A very special place. Write or phone Sivananda Ashram Vrindavan Yoga Farm, 14651 Ballantree Lane, Grass Valley, CA 95949 (phone 800/469-9642, or visit the Web site at sivananda.org/farm). TheWhite Lotus Foundation, in elegant Santa Barbara, California: Some 1,800 feet up the mountains just behind the city, overlooking the Pacific Ocean and the Channel Islands, and founded in 1967 White Lotus is currently directed by Tracey Rich and Ganga White, author of the book Double Yoga. Its principal emphasis is on yoga and related disciplines (bodywork, shiatsu, acupuncture, acupressure), conveyed to guests through workshops, seminars, and classes throughout the year. A 5,000-square-foot central building provides some of the accommodations, but most guests stay in three- to four-person yurts scattered about the 40 acres of grounds. Personal retreats and classes in yoga can be pursued at any time of the year, at a $85-per-day charge, which does not include meals (participants buy and cook their own food in a central kitchen), but more elaborate one-week and 16-day "intensives" are scheduled at frequent intervals throughout the spring, summer, and fall, and these include meals prepared by a noted vegetarian chef, Beatrix Rohlson, as well as morning-till-night classes (in-depth yoga training). Since the weather of Santa Barbara is mild even in the winter (daytime temperatures in the upper 60s or low 70s), yoga-inclined travelers might schedule a personal visit at that time of year, at the daily tariff. To reach this contemporary, eclectic yoga center, contact: The White Lotus Foundation, 2500 San Marcos Pass, Santa Barbara, CA 93105 (phone 805/964-1944, or visit its Web site at whitelotus.org/). Ananda, The Expanding Light, near Nevada City, California: A strange amalgam of faiths, this is the yoga ashram located on the grounds of a larger utopian community known as the Ananda World Brotherhood Village. The "town," 1,000 acres in size, was formed in 1967 by practitioners of yoga from varied religious backgrounds, who regard yoga as complementary to other faiths. Today, at the retreat center, 200 visitors can engage in a retreat of classic yoga practices--early-morning and late-afternoon asanas and sadhanas (guided yoga meditation)-- supplemented by classes and workshops on yogic and meditational themes. The daily charge starts at $37 for campers bringing their own tents, $59 per person in a double room, $120 for a delux private single room, including all three vegetarian meals and classes. Ananda is 15 miles from Nevada City, the latter is 70 miles north of Sacramento. Contact The Expanding Light, 14618 Tyler Foote Rd., Nevada City, CA 95959 (phone 800/346-5350, or visit its Web site at expandinglight.org/). In the Santa Cruz Mountains of California, overlooking Monterrey Bay--you can't imagine a more enthralling location--is another leading retreat facility, founded by the followers of Baba Hari Dass. Thousands head there each year for long weekends or week-long vacations that combine hiking in the redwood forests and cavorting in the open air, with attendance at classical ashtanga yoga classes (of the type described over 2,000 years ago by Patanji in the "Yoga Sutras"). Though the emphasis is on postures and meditation, the center offers a number of classes that could fall into the realm of "karma yoga" which is the ideal of selfless service. To that end, the center explores topics of healing (with classes on Ayurveda and Chinese medicine), organic gardening and peaceful living ("Zen and Yoga," "The Heart of Compassion"). Room and two vegetarian meals daily, supplemented by snacks, ranges from $46 per person (in a tent supplied with mattress; $32 if you bring your own tent), $54 (in dorms housing four to seven), $61 (in a triple room), to $69 per person (in a double), $92 in a single, per day, to which you add an average of $190 per weekend for tuition relating to the courses or seminars you've chosen. All this is but an hour from San Jose Airport, an hour and a half from San Francisco Airport. Contact Mt.MadonnaCenter, 445 Summit Road, Watsonville, CA 95076 (phone 408/847-0406 or Web site: mountmadonna.org/). Still other possibilitiesThe large, 34-year-old Himalayan Institute of Pennsylvania is yet is yet another major center of yoga practice and studies, yet so diverse in its programs that it is practically impossible to describe. A 24-page catalog lists all its weekend, weeklong, 10-day, and month-long investigations throughout the year into every aspect and theory -- sometimes conflicting -- of the yoga literature; it is for serious students of the art, and beginners may feel in over their heads! Figure $65 a day for a double, $75 for a single, all inclusive (with dorm accommodations), for most weeklong and longer programs, which do include beginners' classes in hatha yoga (physical exercises) and meditation, of which those for beginners in meditation are especially popular. If you do attend, you'll be housed on a 422-acre campus in the hills of the Pocono Mountains region of northeastern Pennsylvania, six miles north of the town of Honesdale, overlooking spectacular wooded hills and valleys. Contact The Himalayan Institute, 952 Bethany Turnpike, Honesdale, PA 18431 (phone toll free 800/822-4547 or visit its Web site at himalayaninstitute.org/). In the Laurentian Mountains, an hour north of Montreal is one of the largest and most spectacular of the Sivinanda Ashrams, Sivananda Ashram Yoga Camp. There guests can add canoeing, mountain biking, cross-country skiing, rock climbing and rafting to their yogic fare. Beds in shared rooms with showers cost $80 CDN a day, $510 CDN a week; tent camping (you must provide your own tent) is $45 CDN daily, $285 CDN weekly. Classes, meals, use of the sauna, pool, and skiing are included. Contact Sivananda Ashram Yoga Camp, 673 Eighth Avenue, Val Morin, Quebec J0T 2R0 Canada (phone 800/263-9642, or visit the Web site at www.sivananda.org/camp). People come from all over the world to live and study at Satchidananda Ashram, founded by the renowned Swami of the same name in 1979 as a model of how people of various faiths and backgrounds can live in harmony. About an hour south of Charlottesville, it's in a magnificent locale--750 acres of secluded woodland along the James River in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The "Welcome Weekend" program offers deep relaxation upon arrival, a tour, hatha yoga classes for beginners, guided meditation, a talk on integral yoga, and an evening session with the swami when he's in residence (usually summer). The food, which includes three vegetarian meals, is excellent and the digs--ranging from dormitory bunks to semi-private to private rooms--are air-conditioned, modern and pleasant. Rates: $60 weekdays, $75 Friday to Saturday in dormitory; $75 Sunday to Thursday, $85 Friday and Saturday in a semi-private room. Camp space is $40 on weekdays, $60 on weekends. Contact Satchidananda Ashram, Route 1, Box 1720, Buckingham, VA 23921 (phone 800/858-9642 or 434/969-3121, or visit the Web site at yogaville.org/). I have not described the important 2,000-bed Muktananda Center(the "Syda Foundation") in South Fallsburg, New York (phone 914/434-2000), because of its heavy (and somewhat atypical) theological emphasis, which stresses chanting and meditation to a far greater extent than hatha (physical) yoga and exercises. The Syda Foundation discourages casual visitors but is happy to accept potential acolytes. And in gratitude, I press my hands together beneath my lips, and intone: "Jai Bhagwan" ("I honor the spirit within you").

When it comes to finding affordable meals, travelers to Atlanta need help. Long before the Olympics, sometime between the moment Jimmy Carter left for the White House and Ted wed Jane, Atlanta became a moneyed megalopolis. What was once the quintessential southern city is now the quintessential commuter nightmare, and the construction boom of the '80s and '90s spawned a wide-flung proliferation of slick bistros, greasy sports bars, and high-priced yuppie bait, none of which makes for acceptable budget dining. But there's an old guard of Atlanta restaurants-many in business since your Daddy was knee-high to a bulldog-where cooking still comes from the heart and value is common sense. If you follow the advice of a native, you'll find that Atlanta still hosts some Olympian bargains, where you can get two courses of genuine local cooking, plus coffee, for $12 or less. Mary Mac's Tea Room 224 Ponce de Leon Ave., 404/876-1800, marymacs.com Three abundant courses of southern comfort food from $8.75. (Lunch dishes are generally $1 cheaper than dinner dishes, priced below.) Atlanta's heedless wrecking-ball mentality somehow missed Ponce de Leon, a prewar thoroughfare running east from Midtown where Mary Mac's is found. So driving "Ponce" is like making a trip back in time. Linger awhile in 1945 at Mary Mac's, a hallowed hall for utterly authentic home-style southern cooking since FDR ruled the roost from Warm Springs. It should tell you something that Jessica Tandy ate here to perfect her Oscar-winning character in Driving Miss Daisy. Grab a card on the way in and mark your choices from a full roster of southern greats (country fried steak you don't need a knife to cut, chicken pot pie erupting with steam, sweet potato souffl, with a Christmasy dose of brown sugar). All main courses cost $9.75 and come with two gut-busting side dishes. Extra sides, chosen from a list of 37 (including the beloved "pot likker," the soupy leftovers from cooked greens), cost $2 each. Don't miss the very southern sweet tea (and I do mean sweet) for $1.25. Many locals recall with palpable contempt the restaurant's ill-advised flirtation with trendy dishes (gazpacho, y'all?) back in the late '90s, but I'm pleased to report that Mary Mac's is back in the nostalgia business. With a single spoonful of black-eyed peas, my taste buds pined for my dear departed Nana's kitchen. My grandfather, an old-guard Atlanta boy who's still with us, risked his cardiologist's ire by stealing my helping of Mary Mac's well-seasoned fried chicken, which would barely stain a napkin. We finished with a blob of banana pudding (dessert is $2 with a meal) that's so fantastically sugary my most apt description of it is "silly." If there's just one place that makes me yearn for the genteel, naive Atlanta of years past, it's Mary Mac's. Thomas Marketplace Restaurant 16 Forest Parkway, 404/361-1367. Long list of garden-fresh classics with two sides, $5.50-$12. Atlanta's Hartsfield airport handles some 80 million flyers a year. That's a lot of traffic, and many a southerner makes Thomas Marketplace the first stop upon touchdown or the last before lift-off. It's just a scoot from the airport (you can practically watch the in-flight movies as you dine), amidst Atlanta's main greenmarket. Many of the cooks and waitresses have worked for the family-owned restaurant for a quarter century or more, and they know their craft. Some devotees swear by the delicately breaded fried catfish ($9 for two pieces, including two sides). You know food's been fried to perfection when it's actually refreshing. Some devotees tell of the vegetable side dishes (two free with a meal or $2.50 each), which travel about 100 feet from the stalls to your plate-the creamed corn is so stalk-fresh it squelches as you chew. Some folks, like me, dream about the chicken salad ($7 including two sides), smooth and sprightly with fresh grapes, celery, and pepper, and so sought-after that it's often gone by the middle of lunch. But the peak is definitely that old southern standby, fried green tomatoes ($4.50). They're breaded and cooked upon ordering and served during that critical minutes-wide window when they're neither too hot to eat nor too soggy with age. I received a dozen slices, crispy and flaky, which attracted the attention of a stately Georgia lady as she glided by. "Ooh," she sighed upon sight of them. "May I pull up a chair?" I'm glad she wasn't serious, because I would have wrestled her for them. Eats 600 Ponce de Leon Avenue, 404/888-9149. Pay student-center prices (no less than $3.50) for a pile of the simple greats It ain't nothing fussy, but this dimly lit bohemian nosh pit has been a favored fallback for Atlanta's cash-poor youngsters since opening in 1993. Found on Ponce a tad east of Mary Mac's, it does two things-pasta and spicy jerk chicken-and it does them well. Approach the pierced chick behind the counter and choose your own adventure. Six kinds of pasta (including linguine, ziti, and cheese-filled spinach tortellini) can be paired with six kinds of sauces (from a moist pesto, $3.50, to ragout with either ground beef or turkey, $5) and embellished with a few extras such as plump meatballs, Italian sausage, or a side salad ($1.50 each). Or, ask the blue-haired dude for tangy lemon pepper chicken (half a bird for $4) with black beans and rice ($1 more) or corn bread (45> a square), or perhaps a vegetarian plate groaning with green beans, collard greens, couscous, baby lima beans, and a full ear of corn on the cob ($1 a veggie). Once you've got your goodies-grabbing a bottle of beer, $2.25-mount the scuffed wooden eating platform (that's right, under the air ducts and the inexplicable giant photo of a doctor examining a baby's ear) to absorb your heaping helpings. It's not just low-concept, it's no-concept, but that's what keeps the costs slight, the budget-dining awards streaming in, and the under-35 set allegiant. And is the food good? Heck yes. I know people who return week after week to try every possible pasta permutation. Nuevo Laredo Cantina 1495 Chattahoochee Avenue Northwest, 404/352-9009. "Salsa to end your search" from $6.50 for a giant Mexican feast What many northerners don't realize about Atlanta (and the Southeast in general) is that it's now one of America's biggest gateways for new immigrants, and in emerging neighborhoods, the cuisine proclaims it. This casual Tex-Mex favorite, west of Georgia Tech on an unlikely industrial street, is regularly packed with suburban pilgrims who, thanks to mammoth portions of Mexican favorites, are certain not to leave hungry. The eatery, overrun with folk art and Tejano music, was once a ramshackle house, which may account for the hand-made flourish in the cooking. Despite the low prices, the kitchen skimps on nothing. Start with a daunting stack of cebollitas, a signature dish of charbroiled whole scallions garnished with lime ($1.95). As in Mexico, tamales ($2.75) come swaddled in corn husks; taco meat is crumbly, not sloppy; spinach enchiladas are stuffed with just-picked greens; chorizo is well seasoned (not fiery) and gently spooned into homemade corn tortillas; and burritos are slathered with sauce and cheese. Assemble a cheap feast from the ... la carte menu ($1.95 for an enchilada to $6.50 for a chimichanga pileup), or select a plate ($6.50-$8) that pairs rice with most choices. Along the way, dip freely into what the menu calls "salsa to end your search"-although it will begin your search for the most powerful breath mint. It's so addictive, riding the fence of spiciness and tartness, with a tease of citrus. They even sell it by the gallon ($25). It just might run your car. The Varsity 61 North Avenue, 404/881-1706, thevarsity.com. Atlanta's sock-hop pride charges tabs of $4.50 for sandwich, fries, and drink Normally, burger-and-shake joints seem a tad D-class, for out-of-town tourists, but each time I left it off my list, fellow Atlanta natives insisted that The Varsity was, indeed, required eating. I was thrilled to let them talk me into it. I've been visiting the Varsity since I could manage solid food, and even now it's the ruin of my waistline. I'm not the only one. The Varsity has been slinging slaw since 1928, and its five-acre complex (across U.S. 75/85 from Georgia Tech and the former Olympic Village) is the world's largest drive-in, with space for 600 drivers who munch 98> burgers from trays hooked onto their car doors by elderly carhops. The indoor dining areas, which are even busier, have all the nuance of a '70s airport terminal (molded chairs facing the same way, ceiling-mounted TVs, jostling midday crowds), which only adds to the rare frozen-in-time feeling that Atlantans increasingly cherish. Here you'll find fast food so perfect that it comes with its own language. "Whattle ya haf," means it's time to order. "Glorified" burgers ($1.36) come with lettuce and tomato, "frosted oranges" ($1.30) are sumptuous shakes, and "naked dawgs" ($1.20) arrive wearing no more than a melt-in-your-mouth bun. Pimento cheese sandwiches ($1.39), a southern delicacy, are melted into a drizzly layer cake. Georgians are particularly possessive of the fresh-cut french fries ($1.35) and the wide, thickly breaded onion rings ($1.35). To keep your savory "chili dawg" ($1.55) barking for hours, ask for a pile of fresh minced onions (free). You're not pigging out: In the deep-fried Deep South, grease is a food group and Crisco stands for comfort. Still, if heart attacks could be traced, this place would be shut down-but that's just the way Atlanta likes it. The Flying Biscuit Cafe 1655 McLendon Avenue, 404/687-8888. Also a newer (and much less cozy) location in Midtown, 1001 Piedmont Avenue at 10th Street, 404/874-8887. Two courses of tongue-teasing versions of mom's staples for as little as $9.50 Atlantans love meat, so it's hard rounding up places that don't set vegetarians out to pasture. One that delivers smart options for both the vegetarian and the carnivore is this inviting corner restaurant just east of Little Five Points in Candler Park, where street lights swing like laundry on the line and the hip young servers sass one another like kin. Here you'll find real south-of-the-border flavor-in this case, meaning both the Mason-Dixon and the Rio Grande. Befitting the mismatched, home-kitchen decor, just about everything on the menu puts a spiced-up, wigged-out riff on a comfort-food original-though never aggressively so. "Love cakes" are soft patties resembling Cuban black bean soup on a plate, piled with sour cream and red onion ($6.95). The fist-size biscuit namesakes ($1) don't really fly, unless you consider the speed at which they're consumed by the caf,'s die-hard following. The turkey meat loaf (for meat eaters, of course) languishes under horseradish sauce and wallows in a mound of "pudge"-a family recipe of potatoes mashed with sundried tomatoes, basil, and olive oil ($8.95). Every dish, be it the all-day breakfast ($5.95-$6.95), the regular entrees ($6.95-$8.95), or the specials (usually $10-$13), uses punchy ingredients to toy with color: The Diablo Burger ($6.95) comes with orange jalape o sauce, white feta, purple onions, red tomato, and is served on a teal plate. To finish, sink yourself into the hyperindulgent brownie pie, or the bread pudding, which is a colossus of fudge, sweet bread, and cream sauce (both $3.95). In my book, the comfort of the food is directly proportional to the fresh cups of coffee I drink. It's telling that at the Flying Biscuit, the mugs are bottomless. The Paschal Center at Clark Atlanta University 830 Martin Luther King Drive Southwest, 404/880-6691, 7:30 a.m. to 9:00 p.m., Monday to Saturday. Step back in time for just $5.50 for a main course and two sides Southwest Atlanta's Paschal (pronounced "PAS-kal") is both a gastronomic and a historical shrine, but you'd pass it by a hundred times if you didn't know better. No sooner had I sat down than my waitress, Carol, began eagerly sharing the history of the place. Built as part of a black-only motel in 1954, the Paschal became the regular meeting place where Martin Luther King Jr. and civic leaders planned their peaceful demonstrations. "In fact," Carol said, "You're sitting exactly where Martin Luther King Jr. used to sit every week." (It's the left-most booth along the windows.) The motel upstairs is now a university dorm (from late May to September it's a hotel again, charging $55/night), but the Paschal is happily holding onto the old days, throwback prices, and a timeless menu. With lemon meringue tables and old fellas in suits watching a dial-operated TV-an inch of ash dangling from their cigarettes-it might as well be 1968. What some patronizingly call "soul food," Georgians simply call "dinner." What could be more color-blind than food? The beef short ribs ($7.95 including two vegetables), supremely tender, are padded with thick meat, and the fried chicken (the restaurant's calling card, $5.50 for two pieces including two vegetables) is soaked in buttermilk before reaching Nirvana in your mouth. Black-eyed peas are cooked with ham hock, while the corn bread dressing (it comes with dinner) has cranberry jelly and a whiff of Thanksgiving. Plan to visit Sundays between noon and 4 p.m., when the post-church crowd descends for the huge all-you-can-eat smorgasbord ($13.95), which encompasses the entire menu plus casseroles, tossed salads, and all the corn muffins you can slip into your coat pockets. Cha Gio 132 Tenth Street, 404/885-9387. Trusty Vietnamese chow; soups from $2.50, mains from $6.95 Urban redevelopment has nullified the Midtown neighborhood around Margaret Mitchell's old apartment house, now a popular tourist attraction. The spine of mid-century Atlanta is now a faceless commercial zone with nowhere to eat or drink. But from now on, when you're near the birthplace of Gone With the Wind, as God is my witness, you'll never be hungry again. Like Scarlett O'Hara, Cha Gio's owner, Le Thi Hang, is a war refugee who brought herself up with canny self-sufficiency. She escaped the Fall of Saigon in 1975 and wound up in Georgia, where she made her name selling egg rolls from a cart. Today, she maintains the unprepossessing eating hall Cha Gio (which in fact means "spring rolls"), a rare respite from the bready, cheesy fantasia of Atlanta's usual menus. Like much Vietnamese cooking, it accomplishes complex Asian flavoring with a delicate French-influenced flair-in this case, reliably and cheaply. Almost every main dish (there are 32) costs $7.95 or less, and rice comes free with most of them. I particularly like the chicken stir-fried veggies ($6.95) for their easy balance of ginger and curry; the nicely salty egg crepe ($5.95) is plump with greens and served with a lightly vinegary chili sauce that always kicks my palate from behind. The spring rolls, which fueled Hang's rise and are often voted Atlanta's best in magazine polls, are indeed spectacular: First the pastry shatters in your mouth, and then the sweet-and-spicy flavors explode ($2 for two). Cha Gio isn't merely an emblem of Atlanta as one of our most important immigrant cities, but evidence of something more profoundly American: In 1996, Hang's U.S.-born daughter represented the United States as an Olympic fencer at the Games, which were held just a few blocks away.

As the windjammer Angelique hurtled its way along the Maine coast at about ten knots (approximately 10 mph) on a particularly breezy September day, we struck up a conversation with John, a passenger who takes this voyage every Labor Day. "What do you like about cruising that brings you back every year?" we asked innocently enough. He shot us a pained look. "Don't call this cruising," he chastised. "People go on a cruise for luxury, live shows, and midnight buffets. This is sailing." His admonishment hints at what makes a Maine windjammer cruise special. He might also have added that Maine windjamming, with fares beginning at $775 for a six-day cruise and no exorbitant shore excursions, pricey cocktails, hidden extras, or opportunities to blow a fortune in a smoke-filled casino, is a bargain compared to most mass-market cruising. No luxury! No shows! No midnight buffets! "We'll die of boredom!" we wailed when we discovered that the amenities we have come to expect on a cruise ship would be lacking. As it turned out, we were happy as quahogs; it was like being transported back 150 years, when sailors "were at the mercy of the gods and goddesses of the sea," as another passenger put it. Built in 1980 and holding a maximum of 31 passengers, the 95-foot Angelique is patterned after a classic nineteenth-century sailing ship and is one of 13 vessels belonging to the Maine Windjammer Association. Seven of these have been designated National Historic Landmarks, including the Lewis R. French (launched in 1871) and the 22-passenger Stephen Taber (America's oldest documented sailing vessel in continuous service). However, the Angelique is one of three fleet members built specifically for passengers, complete with a deckhouse salon featuring such creature comforts as a pot-bellied stove and a piano, making it a good place to duck into on blustery or rainy days. Anchors aweigh! We arrived the night before the ship sailed and in the misty rain were ushered to our cabin by Chad, one of the three deckhands. We quickly learn that this 24-year-old first sailed on the Angelique with his grandmother when he was 13, and "never found the exit." By way of introduction, he rattles off a list of dos and don'ts: don't leave the light on in an empty cabin (drains the battery); do take a shower only between 9 a.m. and 9 p.m.; don't smoke below deck or in the deckhouse salon; do bring any beverage you want onboard (this is a strictly BYOB operation) but don't get wasted and fall overboard; don't take a blanket above deck, because if it blows overboard he'll send us after it; and above all, do enjoy ourselves. "Cozy" doesn't begin to describe the Angelique's cabins. Ours, some seven by four feet, came with two bunk beds, two reading lights and a wall light, a ventilation hatch in the ceiling (no portholes), and a sink. The other 14 cabins were similarly snug, although two had a double bed and one sported three bunks. Towels, sheets, and blankets are provided, but in keeping with windjamming's hands-on nature, passengers get to make up their own beds. The ship has three "heads" (bathrooms to you landlubbers), and two of them have hot, fresh showers, the hang of which takes some effort. "This is like going to summer camp," somebody quipped. On our first night (spent dockside), we soon realized how thin the walls were. Nearly everything that went on in the other cabins was audible. Luckily, we'd brought earplugs to drown out the symphony of snores. At 9 a.m. the next morning, we chugged our way out of the harbor - one of the rare occasions when the engines were used - and met the other passengers over coffee. Unlike the party-hearty windjammers of the Caribbean, the Maine version attracts a more sedate, albeit eclectic, following. There were Marilyn and Bruce, on a six-year driving tour in their RV (covering all 50 states and six Canadian provinces); Ken, a banjo-playing ex-marine with a trove of bad jokes; and Brad and Courtney, a twentysomething bicoastal couple. Simple but good food is a hallmark of Maine windjamming. Alerted by the clanging of a big brass bell, we trooped into the dining room below deck, where, with a little effort, 31 people managed to fit at three family-style tables laden with eggs, sausages, and pancakes. The meals on the Angelique are the work of the ship's talented cook, Deb, who's been on the job since 1987 (like Chad, she took a trip one summer and forgot to leave), assisted by two cheery "galley slaves," Cheryl and Barbara. This is home cooking at its best, based on the Maine credo of "good food, and plenty of it." In fact, while everyone eats the same thing (though special dietary needs are catered to with advance notice), we found the food better than what the typical luxury cruise ship dishes out. Breakfast might be baked eggs, French toast, or oatmeal. Lunch tends to be a bit lighter - clam chowder, chili, or chicken salad sandwiches. And dinner is hearty fare like baked ham, lasagna, or meat loaf. Somehow we managed to save room for dessert - and a good thing, too; Deb whipped up the best congo bars, brownies, and apple crisp pies we'd ever tasted (past passengers actually write her, begging for FedExed brownies). For those who can't get enough of a good thing, the enterprising Deb sells The Angelique Cookbook: Great Recipes from a Windjammer's Galley, which includes many of the meals served onboard. Lolling around, pitching in, seeing the scenery With few organized activities and no set itinerary, passengers are left to do as little or as much as they want, although they're encouraged (but in no way required) to help with the daily running of the ship, such as furling the sails, polishing the brass, preparing meals, or even taking the helm. (Luckily, cleaning the heads is left to the crew.) At one point, Dennis, the first mate, rallied the somnolent passengers into helping the crew hoist the sails with his war-cry, "Team work doesn't seem work!" And help we did - the whole running of the boat was fun and effortless, as if we were playing on a big toy. Days and nights were spent lounging around on deck getting to know the other passengers, who on our cruise included many "Labor Day Alumni," so called because they'd been sailing over the same holiday weekend with captain/owner Mike McHenry since he took the helm of the Angelique in 1986. One, dubbed "Crazy Pat," has 24 windjammer sailings in her log book. Other alumni on our cruise include Margaret, who's been windjamming since 1979; Richard, who's been a guest ten times; and Nancy (nine sailings). Asked what keeps drawing them back, all agreed it was the great family atmosphere among passengers and crew and the chance to meet interesting new people. In the words of one, "You kinda get hooked." Although this trip was designed as a "lighthouse tour," lighthouses took a back seat to the peaceful and serene Maine coast. The atmosphere, combined with the sunshine and fresh air, slowed time down to a pleasant crawl. Occasionally a crew member broke the serenity, hollering when we passed a lighthouse, and everyone scrambled to catch a glimpse. Galley helper Barbara, a naturalist who works at a wildlife preserve in North Carolina during the off-season, would occasionally point out seals, porpoises, bald eagles, and other wildlife. The best time of the year to sail is towards the end of summer, when the winds are stronger; we could cover an average of 35 to 45 miles a day. When we encountered other windjammer ships, the captains raced each other for our entertainment. Needless to say, the winds also caused the temperature to drop several notches, making us glad that we had brought extra layers of warm clothing. Nights were so quiet it was rather unsettling at first, but we quickly began to appreciate being able to see the Milky Way in all its glory, far from city lights, and we understood why Deb said she "couldn't imagine a more beautiful office." There was no sailing at night, thankfully, or it would have made for some very nauseated passengers trying to sleep below deck. As it turned out, the gods and goddesses of the seas guided us to three picturesque towns along the Maine coast: Bucks Harbor, Southwest Harbor, and Castine. Bucks Harbor--a tiny speck of a place consisting of a convenience store, a church, and a smattering of idyllic summer cottages - also boasts a special treat: a 31-member steel-drum band that plays every other Monday all summer (tunes range from Led Zeppelin to George Gershwin). Postcard-perfect Castine is home to the Maine Maritime Academy, set among rolling hills, where we witnessed students in a training exercise and browsed through one-of-a-kind shops and galleries. A Maine windjammer cruise wouldn't be complete without an evening lobster bake, and on our last day we descended on a privately owned island for the event. Those who shun lobster (including, surprisingly, Captain Mike) filled up on hot dogs. That night, we were treated to some homespun entertainment, including a passenger/crew talent show, with the male crew in drag. The laugh-filled performance was a perfect end to a high-spirited journey. By the time we chugged back into Camden, everyone was saying good-byes, some tearily, others planning their next trip. As Caroline, a windjamming virgin, put it, "The greatest part about this type of travel is the friends you make. It's a relaxing and exhilarating adventure that everyone should try at least once." Another windjammaholic born. Booking passage Angelique's Labor Day six-day "Lighthouse Cruise," which costs $775 per person, includes accommodations and all the food you can eat. Fares for the Angelique start at $475 for three days and go up to $990 for a six-day "Art and Photography Cruise." The fleet's highest prices are on the Stephen Taber, one of the smaller ships: from $446 for a three-day cruise to $838 for six days. The Mary Day has the lowest prices: $399 for three days to $775 for six. If you're traveling alone, you'll have to share the cabin with another passenger (if there's extra space, though, you get the cabin to yourself). Some ships have single cabins at no extra fee, such as the Lewis R. French, Mary Day, and Stephen Taber, while the Mercantile, Heritage, and Grace Bailey charge extra for single occupancy. For more information, contact the Maine Windjammer Association at 800/807-9463 or sailmainecoast.com. Setting sail The Angelique is berthed in Camden, a three-hour drive from Boston. Concord Trailways (800/639-3317) runs a four-hour trip from Boston's Logan Airport for $55 round-trip; the bus drops you off about one mile outside of Camden, where you can take a $6 cab ride to the harbor. Or you can fly into either Portland Jetport (served by most major U.S. airlines) or Rockland Airport on US Airways Express carrier Colgan Air ($188 round-trip, 800/428-4322). From Portland, Mid-Coast Limo (800/937-2424) costs $90 round-trip for the first person and $30 for each additional passenger. A cab ride from Rockland to Camden costs about $24. The 95-foot Angelique, patterned after the classic 18-century tall ships, is one of 13 vessels belonging to the Maine Windjammers Association.