American Fakery ...

Now that my colleague, Tim Burke, has confessed his availability to faux Europeana, I've got another recommendation for him. Take this, for example. Built before we knew that the French were the enemies of civilization, it's called "Chateau Elan, Atlanta."

There are problems with it, of course. It isn't in Atlanta. It's 40 miles up the highway at Brazelton, Georgia. Fifteen years ago, Brazelton was so wore out that they sold the whole town to Kim Basinger. Well, she went bankrupt and Chateau Elan stepped into the picture. Its formal address is:"100 rue charlemagne, Brazelton, Georgia." I'm not kidding you! $1.95 Talmadge Row, yes; but"100 rue charlemagne"? And it's just the damndest thing you ever saw. They call it"a 16th Century French-style Chateau." The front doesn't look bad, but if you walk around that facade, the thing is built of concrete block. Not even real cinderblock, like the ones they used to sit Brazelton's houses on top of.

So, it's a concrete block"16th Century French-style Chateau" sitting out there on 3500 acres of wore out cotton land in north Georgia's red clay hills. Has restaurants, too: Versailles Restaurant, Café Elan, Fleu-de-Lis, Le Clos, and L'Auberge. If your American French can't cut all that, you can try: The Carriage House, Clubhouse Grill, and Paddy's Irish Pub. Can you show me a real 16th century French chateau that had an Irish pub in it? But, Tim, there isn't an authentic menu in sight. Not a catfish or a pork chop, no collards, no okra, no fried green tomatoes to be found there -- not at"100 rue charlemagne." But, I'll tell you what they do have in every bathroom: a real bidet. Just let your mind wonder back to the first time you used a bidet. Well, never mind, but I imagine that the first experience with a bidet is memorable for some of us good ol' boys out in the north Georgia hills.

And, if you like"Chateau Elan, Atlanta" (100 rue charlemagne, Brazelton, Georgia), you'll want to try Florida's Chateau Elan, Sebring. It's located on"the legendary hairpin turn at Sebring International Raceway." Just imagine: you're sitting there on your bidet and suckin' down a beer. Then you hear the roar of motors and the call of squealing tires. For a good ol' boy, life just don't get much better ‘n that.