Flemming, a newspaperman who lives in Tallahassee, FL, felt right at home on the Alabama coast.

THE DAY'S CATCH
It’s no secret that the culinary attraction of Alabama’s Gulf Coast is its seafood bounty, fresh from the calm waters of the Mobile Bay estuary. Dishes are prepared the down-home way: baked oysters in butter and garlic; sauteed shrimp and mullet; blackened grouper and red snapper; broiled dolphinfish. Being on the road (that is, traveling on assignment) is like choosing a pitching rotation for the playoffs: You dance with the ones that brung you. In practice, that means eating beef in the heartland, and seafood on the coast. On this trip I put away a lot of seafood.

BBQ BREAK
One day during my stay I rented a kayak at the new Five Rivers Outfitters (251-626-8464) and, after availing myself of the enthusiastic wisdom of part-owner Gene Boothe, set out to explore the Mobile–Tenshaw Delta. As I paddled up the rising tidal waters of the broad Tensaw River estuary, osprey and herons flapped overhead, and red-winged blackbirds rocked pendulously atop seagrass stems. By the time I dreamily reached the final tendrils of the river, a thunderstorm was rolling in—unnoticed by me, until loud claps in the distance finally got my attention. I started a steady (and sweaty) half-hour paddle back to the rental shed and beat the first raindrops by minutes. Then the deluge began. Such conditions call for a cold beer and some chow—and after all my seafood consumption, I had a hankering for something different.

On the way down Highway 59 back to Gulf Shores, the perfect place presented itself: Hickory House BBQ (251-947-8720), right on the highway in Robertsdale, Alabama. I wouldn’t say the Hickory House would fall down without the accumulated gunk of years of smoking, frying and grilling—but I would say that grease apparently can promote structural integrity. The slow-smoked, tomato-based barbecued pork was delicious, served with thick slaw and just-spicy-enough baked beans. The only downside was a scrawled notice that the joint had gone BYOB a few months earlier. So much for that beer.

A SWEET CLOSE
For dessert, I decided to stop at the Burris Farm Market, up the highway in Loxley. It was late summer, and beneath the market’s roof I found Baldwin County Silver King sweet corn next to bushels of Chilton County’s fuzzy peaches; and yellow watermelons stacked precariously near pink-eyed peas that were so fresh you could eat them raw right there in the aisle. I swung by the bakery, redolent with the scent of bread, and ordered up a peach cobbler. It was no frosty mug of beer, but it hit the spot just fine.