Where to Eat in Montgomery

Montgomery's dining scene runs on smoke, pecan smoke curling from backyard barbecue pits, hickory smoke drifting from the brick pits at the corner of West Fairview and Clay Street, and the ghost-smoke of cotton warehouses that once fed this city. The food here carries the weight of Alabama history: plates of pulled pork shoulder that's been slow-cooking since 4 AM in converted oil drums, cornbread that's more corn than bread, and white sauce so tangy it'll make your eyes water. But Montgomery's no museum piece, there's a chef in Cloverdale who's turning field peas into foam, and the old grocery on South Court has become a tapas bar where you can eat Iberico ham while listening to Wynton Marsalis on vinyl.

• Downtown's Dexter Avenue, where fried catfish smells from cafeteria-style joints mix with espresso from third-wave coffee shops, and lunch runs from 11 AM sharp until the last piece of lemon icebox pie disappears around 2:30
• Goat cheese grits that started at the farmers market and now appear on half the menus in town, usually topped with Gulf shrimp or braised short rib depending on the season
• Price ranges that span from church-basement fundraisers where a full plate costs less than your parking meter, to white-tablecloth spots where you're paying for the story as much as the steak
• Thursday through Saturday nights when the patios along Bibb Street fill with live blues and the temperature drops just enough to make outdoor dining pleasant
• Sunday gospel brunches that start at 10 AM sharp, the kind where cornbread comes out in cast-iron skillets and sweet tea flows like communion wine

• Reservations tend to matter at downtown spots with white tablecloths. But most barbecue joints operate on a first-come basis, show up before noon for the best chance at ribs that haven't been sitting under heat lamps
• Cash still rules at the meat-and-three places where the menu changes daily based on what the cook's grandmother made, though most newer spots take cards without the usual eye-roll
• Tipping runs 18-20% at sit-down places. But at the counter-service barbecue shacks, dropping your change in the tip jar gets you a nod that means "you understand how this works"
• Lunch happens at 11:30, no exceptions at the institutional spots where regulars have been sitting in the same vinyl booths since the civil rights era, and dinner starts slowing down around 8:30 when the kitchen staff wants to get home
• "No pork" works fine at most places now, though you'll get better results asking for "just vegetables" rather than explaining vegetarianism, the concept still confuses some of the older cooks who've been making collard greens with ham hocks since Eisenhower was president