Birmingham Brunches with a Side of Bryant-Denny Stadium

The best place to start this story is how James met Harry.

We have been working together for the past 10 years now even though we met long before that. Harry is originally from St. Pete, so our paths might never have crossed if not for some strange twist of fate. Shortly after he was hired, we broke bread (foreshadowing) and within minutes discovered he’d been to my parents’ house for Mardi Gras while he was in college and I was in high school. Turns out, Harry went to Sewanee, where he was part of the same friend group as my older (and wiser) sister Chrissy.

Over the years we’ve realized we are perfectly aligned when it comes to experiencing the South, especially through food and fishing. We’ve also got a few other things in common: we’re both divorced, on the other side of 50, and figuring it out as we go. So, it makes sense that we’ve logged plenty of miles together in pursuit of good meals and memorable stories. That’s also why I asked Harry to join Retire Southern as a contributor.

This isn’t our first rodeo. If you want a taste of our previous escapades, check out:

One of my college friends, Chip, lives in Birmingham. We met at LSU before he transferred back home to Alabama. During our college years, we’d road-trip to Tuscaloosa for LSU-Bama matchups or to catch up with friends. These days we plan reunions around SEC championships or Braves games. When Chip asked if I was interested in going to the LSU-Alabama game on November 8th and my bride gave me the green light, my next call was to Harry, whose son, Little Harry, just started his freshman year at Alabama this fall.

Our plan was simple: go to the game but skip the Tuscaloosa hotel surge pricing (think over $2,000 a night for a Best Western). Instead, we took a path less traveled by—basing ourselves in Birmingham—and that made all the difference.

Birmingham, Part One

I picked up Harry 30 minutes late at 9:00 a.m. EST on Saturday morning. By 10:15 a.m. CST, we were sliding into a booth at Automatic Seafood & Oysters, where Chip had made brunch reservations.

Executive Chef Adam Evans and his team have been honored by the James Beard Foundation (2022 Best Chef: South) and MICHELIN Guide American South (2025). The restaurant occupies a 5,000 square-foot retrofitted fire sprinkler factory in Birmingham’s Lakeview neighborhood and specializes in regional, locally sourced seafood. We started with 18 raw oysters, Murder Points from Bayou La Batre, Alabama. We followed that up with the smoked fish dip, velvety smooth and almost hummus-like in texture. From there we filled the table with a spread worthy of a Southern brunch Hall of Fame: the dry-aged burger, short rib Benedict, shrimp and crab arancini etouffee, crispy potatoes, smoked bacon, and a buttermilk biscuit. Every dish was excellent, but the oysters and the fish dip stole the show.

Saban Field at Bryant-Denny Stadium

Since we had two cars at brunch and the game wasn’t until 6:30 p.m., we headed back to Chip’s house to watch College GameDay and digest. He recommended we leave at 2:30 p.m. and drop a car at his office in Vestavia Hills, about 10 miles south of downtown Birmingham and exactly 60 miles from Bryant-Denny.

When I asked about game traffic, Chip explained that for early games (11:30 a.m.) everyone arrives at the same time, but for evening kickoffs, the drive is easier if you arrive around 4:00 p.m. Local intelligence.

We arrived on the Strip, parked at a prepaid lot, and walked a few blocks to meet Little Harry at his fraternity house. We were greeted by a live band, 1,500 of Little Harry’s closest friends and a Beam & Coke that could have sedated an elephant, Roll Tide.

While I’m on that subject, be prepared to hear “Roll Tide” roughly every 45 seconds while in Tuscaloosa. It’s as omnipresent as cowbells in Starkville. When in Rome.

About an hour before kickoff, we made our way over to the stadium where we purchased a Conecuh Sausage gourmet dog for $9.99 each and a Surfside Iced Tea & Lemonade + Vodka for $18.99 each. You read that right, $18.99 for a 12 oz skinny can. To put that in perspective, if you were filling up your car with Surfside, it would run over $2,500 per gallon. So cherish every sip.

Our bleacher seats came with chairbacks, which was a nice perk, but with over 100,000 fans packed in, “close quarters” doesn’t begin to describe it. Just be prepared for some unintentional shoulder-to-shoulder bonding with your neighbors, most of whom will say exactly two words all night: Roll Tide.

Between plays, you’re constantly reminded of Alabama’s legacy, past and present NFL players, Hall of Fame inductees, and all 18 national championships. The whole nine yards (which ironically is as nautical reference, not football).

Now, some people claim I’m getting “grumpy” with age. I disagree. I’m simply becoming more appreciative of comfort, a natural progression for anyone north of 50. By halftime, with LSU down two touchdowns, comfort won out over curiosity.

We slipped out in search of a quieter spot. The Houndstooth had a $20 cover, didn’t take Venmo, and the ATM was out of order. Roll Tide. A few blocks later, we spotted Thai Basil Sushi, which offered open seats, working restrooms, and a TV. We ordered water, chilled sake, a Bama roll, and a Tiger roll.

At first, a Thai and sushi restaurant on the Strip felt out of place, until I went to the restroom and noticed elephant artwork adorning the walls. And I remembered that Thailand’s connection to elephants is multifaceted and deeply rooted in its history, culture, and religion. Roll Thai’d.

The Midnight Ride

After the game, we drove Chip back to his car in Vestavia Hills just before midnight. Then came the fork in the road: drive two plus hours back to Atlanta or find a place to crash nearby.

That’s when Amanda’s sagely advice, which I had perhaps discounted in the moment, came flooding back: “You should reserve a hotel room…just in case.”

We stopped at the Hampton Inn a few blocks from Chip’s office. We walked inside. We saw a sign on the front desk that read, “I have temporarily stepped away…”

Strike one.

Next stop, Drury Inn & Suites. A sweet couple, clearly in their 80s, was checking in at a glacial pace.  Once they cleared the front desk we asked if there was any room at the inn.

Strike two.

We hit the Marriott around the corner. Third time’s the charm. We landed two rooms for about 90% less than Tuscaloosa prices. I closed the blackout shades, set the thermostat on 69, found The Shawshank Redemption on TBS, and called it a night.

Birmingham, Part Two

The next morning, I woke up to a text from Harry:

“You alive?...I’m downstairs w/ a cup of joe & going thru my fantasy lineup. No hurry.”

After a quick shower, I met him in the lobby. We skipped the breakfast buffet and headed for the Golden Rule Bar-B-Q and Grill, considered one of the oldest barbecue joints in America, operating continuously since 1891. 

Inside, the crowd looked fresh from church, locals, regulars, and multigenerational tables filling every booth. We definitely brought down the average age, but we were fine with that. 

We ordered smoked wings, brisket, sliced sausage, baked beans, Brunswick stew, onion rings, and tater salad. For dessert we split the fried apple pie. 

Harry took one bite and said, “That’s made with lard.” He meant it as the highest compliment. It was cinnamon sweet, flaky, and 100% delicious. 

With full bellies and about 140 miles to go, we headed east and rolled back into Atlanta by mid-afternoon. No worse for the wear. Sometimes the best adventures start with brunch and end somewhere between a barbecue joint and Bryant-Denny Stadium.

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