Two other particularly interesting places in Darien were a store once called “Turnip Greens Country Market,” and a restaurant a block away called “The Purple Pickle,” both unique local enterprises, in the old downtown district.

“Turnip Greens “ eventually changed hands a couple of times, and is now known as “The Local Exchange.” It was originally started by a young couple who moved down from Atlanta, Danny and Kathy Pendley, and specialized in local produce and other items “grown or made in Georgia.” Happily, The Local Exchange has continued that mission. I shop there every time I am in town.

The really striking thing about Turnip Greens was that it featured a large wooden cut-out of the state of Georgia, hanging on the wall behind the cash register, with pins in it marking where the products they sold came from: peanuts from Plains, blueberries from Alma, pecans from Warner Robbins, jams and jellies from Statesboro, and coffees from the Café Campesino roastery in Americus, to name a few. (And Vidalia onions, of course!)

It also carries books for all ages on Georgia animals and history, with plenty of pictures to engage the little ones; handmade soaps, custom meats, sausages, and frozen dinners made locally, honeys and bee products, etc. A fascinating place to wander through! I have bought many gifts for family and friends there, over the years.

But mostly I loved that huge illustration of the state, showing where things came from! Georgia is the largest state east of the Mississippi River, and agriculture is perhaps the largest industry overall, although many people do not realize it. That map was a wonderful illustration (made from Georgia cypress, I believe) of the amazing variety of things our state produces.

This local market is now in the space once occupied by George C. Patelidas and Sons Hardware, right on the main road, U.S. 17.)

Down the street was a small restaurant that started out as “The Purple Pickle.” It was apparently named for an actual food item, although I had never heard of purple pickles before. But then, I had never heard of “fried green tomatoes,” either, until the movie of that name came out, several years back.

It was a one-story cinderblock building that was originally somebody’s house. Repainted in a variety of colors, inside and out, and decorated with a variety of murals inside, the food was as eclectic as the décor. And always very good.

My wife and I always stopped by for lunch when we were down that way.

The original owner sold it, a year or so later, to a colorful proprietess named Miss Anna, who had worked for many years at a BBQ joint in Jacksonville, FL. Her husband Mitch was a regional manager for Pepsico, I think it was, and they had moved to Darien and lived in a waterfront condo just down the street. “Miss Anna” was ebullient, always exuberant, and full of life. An older woman, she often wore sparkly eye-shadow, which matched her personality. She would always come by your table to see if the food was to your liking, and of course it always was.

They made their own dishes, except for the desserts; but those were always unusual and delicious, too. We always got one, even though we don’t usually get desserts when eating out. They were just too good to pass up!

The “Pickle” also displayed a variety of art, of all different kinds, made by local Artists, which were available for purchase. The same artists usually had more items on display at the “Old Jail Art Center” just up the road, so if you saw something you really liked, you could likely find more by the same artist at the Old Jail.

Sadly, after four or five years, running a restaurant got to be too much for Miss Anna, so she sold The Pickle, and the new owners unfortunately didn’t retain its flavor. It has since been a seafood place, a Mexican restaurant, and now it’s something else.

“Local joints always have the best food,” as the old saying goes. And “price is not always indicative of quality.” This is true.

Travel, it is often said, is supposed to expand one’s horizons, by exposing us to different people, areas, cultures and customs. This is also true.

And sometimes the best experiences can be found in one’s own back yard. If you know where to look.

Rafe Semmes is a local writer.