Our Favorite spots in Savannah
Hello, friends. I’ve lived in Savannah long enough to have opinions and short enough to still have hope for mild summers. So you can trust me. Here’s where to go.
Start with coffee at Franklin’s. It’s on Liberty Street, and it’s named for Franklin Delano Roosevelt, who loved coffee so much that he publicly celebrated when WWII rationing ended. Think about that. The man steered the free world through a global war, and the press release he was proudest of was “WE HAVE BEANS AGAIN.” The room is pure Art Deco, so you’ll feel like a 1940s newspaper tycoon. I order a latte and stand by the window as if I’m waiting for a telegram. Nobody has ever sent me a telegram.
Then walk off the caffeine at E. Shaver, Bookseller, on Madison Square. It’s Savannah’s oldest bookstore, and USA TODAY readers just ranked it ninth-best independent bookstore in the entire country. Ninth! Out of all of them! I’ve never been ninth at anything. The store sits in a building from 1842 and is staffed, spiritually if not legally, by three cats named Bartleby, Mr. Eliot, and Skimbleshanks. These cats have better literary names than I do. Buy a book about Savannah history and quiz me later. I will get it wrong, confidently.
Lunch is more history than food at The Olde Pink House. I say that as a compliment. It’s a Georgian mansion on Reynolds Square that was built in either 1771 or 1789, depending on which historian you ask and how much Madeira they’ve had. Here’s the best part. It was never meant to be pink. The red brick kept bleeding through the white plaster, and owner after owner kept whitewashing it like a man covering a gravy stain with more gravy. Finally someone said, “Fine. It’s pink now.” That is the most Savannah sentence ever spoken. We don’t fix problems here. We rebrand them.
For a cocktail, go to Joe & Vera’s on Broughton. It’s named for the owner’s grandparents. Joe fixed elevators in the Empire State Building, and Vera worked the pharmacy counter across the street. So this whole bar is essentially a love story about the vertical-transportation and pharmaceutical industries, and it’s more romantic than anything I’ve ever done. My wife out-earns me, and she’d like you to know that. Order the oysters. Sit close to someone you like.
For dinner, if you’re feeling fancy (and why wouldn’t you be, look at my name), try Lester’s on Oglethorpe. It’s a brand-new raw bar in an old boarding house, with oysters, tinned fish, and caviar. It’s dinner only and takes no reservations, which means it plays hard to get. I respect that, as a man who is also hard to get, mostly because I’m usually stuck behind a slow carriage tour.
If you’ve got a car, head out to Fishbar in Starland. It just won Best New Restaurant in town. They cook seafood over live fire, which is the oldest cooking technique in human history and also how I prepare dinner when the power bill is late.
For a nightcap, ride up to Bar Julian at the Thompson. It’s the tallest rooftop in Savannah’s modern history, thirteen floors up. You’ll see the river, the ships, and the whole skyline. If you squint, you can see me down below, sweating through this plaid suit and waving.
Save a morning for Bonaventure Cemetery. It’s free, it’s open every day, and it is the most beautiful place in the world to be quietly dead. Under the live oaks and the Spanish moss, I feel like I'm in a different world. Fair warning: the Bird Girl statue from the Midnight book cover isn’t there anymore. She moved downtown to a museum. Even the statues here get better offers.
And between all of that? Come ride my trolley. We’ll play games, you’ll trash talk your friends, and you’ll learn about Savannah through a game show.
Because in Savannah, fun is just a square away.