Beaches of South Walton, Florida

Southern Comfort

A FEW DAYS BEFORE I LEFT FOR FLORIDA, my mom and I were chatting about how much we love the beach. For as long as I can remember, my family has been loading up the car with bathing suits, beach towels, chairs, and umbrellas for an annual summer trek to Destin. For us, the beach is like coming home.

Sound familiar? Of course it does. More families than mine make this pilgrimage to the beach in the Florida Panhandle, where the white sand and clear blue-green waters of the Gulf of Mexico rival the Caribbean.

But now I’m all grown up, so I needed a place that matched my new sensibilities—and didn’t involve sharing a condo with my family. I wanted something upscale and unspoiled by big tourism business. So I looked east, past Destin, to the Beaches of South Walton, 13 of Florida’s most scenic communities, most of which fall along tiny Hwy. 30-A.

When my best friend Melisa (who also went on the family vacations to Florida) and I landed at the airport, we picked up our Mustang convertible, put the top down, and made our way toward 30-A. We were headed to WaterColor, the beach community just west of Seaside, the colorful little town made famous by The Truman Show.

WaterColor is mostly residential, but the WaterColor Inn, a 60-room boutique beachfront property that opened in 2002, provides swank accommodations for those of us who are just passing through (and wish we could afford to live here). Inspired by the stunning Gulf Coast setting, the inn is an elegant but casual Southern coastal retreat. Each room has views of the Gulf—even from the shower!—and features king-sized beds with queen-sized sofa sleepers, room-enough-for-two bathrooms, and private balconies. It sure is good to be a grown-up.

We wanted to kick off our “adult” trip in style, so the first night we dined at Fish Out of Water. Over a glass of Evolution 9, Melisa and I reminisced about the days when we were too young to drink at the beach. Then we dove into a jumbo lump crab cake with watermelon grilled Vidalia salad, followed by a delicate assorted baby lettuce salad. Entrées included a horseradish-crusted Chilean sea bass for her and seared rare tuna for me—the sea bass arrived impeccably hot and crispy; the tuna cool and fresh. For dessert, we went old-school with a three-tiered chocolate fudge sundae. A glass of tawny port rounded out a fabulous meal. We were thankful that our beds were only a few paces away.

The next day, we committed ourselves to the sunshine. We hopped between the beach, where we camped out under an umbrella, and the spectacular pool, where a friendly waitstaff served crab-cake sandwiches and Emerald Coast lemonades to poolside guests lounging on pillow-topped wooden chaises. We discussed walking to the BaitHouse Restaurant, where, we heard from a loyal local fan, they serve the best fried shrimp and hushpuppies in the Florida Panhandle. But we couldn’t bring ourselves to stray too far from the ocean. I guess those shrimp will have to wait until next year.

We loitered on the beach until our chairs were literally swept out from under us, then cleaned up for dinner that night at the Red Bar in Santa Rosa Beach, a far cry from the sophisticated coastal cuisine we had enjoyed the night before. The Red Bar features live music, graffitied walls, red lights (hence the name), and only five entrees on a chalkboard menu. A simple formula, but it works.

Day three we said goodbye to WaterColor and got back on 30-A heading east. We toyed with the idea of loitering in Seaside, where the shopping is arguably some of the best along the Beaches of South Walton, but we were anxious to get to Cowgirl Kitchen, a funky takeout and dine-in cafe owned and operated by Dallasites—and mother-daughter duo—Nancy Scarborough and Sissy Dupree. You may recognize the names from Shortstop in Snider Plaza, which serves the same down-home cooking—chicken spaghetti, Mexican lasagna, sausage balls—in a decidedly unsophisticated setting. But the shop in Seagrove Beach is all Texas kitsch, “designed” by the ladies themselves. We feasted on a mini buffet of corn-relish dip (with Frito’s, of course), pimento-cheese sandwiches, egg-salad sandwiches, King Ranch chicken, and praline-flavored thumbprint cookies.

Sufficiently stuffed and cured of any homesickness, we drove to our final destination, Rosemary Beach, once called “Seaside’s Sister” in this very magazine, and checked into the Pensione at Rosemary Beach, a European-style bed-and-breakfast. Our room, though small and sparse, was comfortable and cozy. Melisa and I giggled about the close quarters, because we often shared a tight space at the family condo back in Destin.

Because parts of Rosemary Beach are still under construction, it feels more like an incomplete movie set than a hopping beach community. But we enjoyed the quiet and used our time to get to know the local proprietors.

Our first stop was the Medusa Wine Shoppe & Tasting Room, a darling wine bar and retail shop run by Shane Hicks and his wife Dana. Wines by the glass are carefully selected and come from all over the world—Oregon, Australia, Burgundy, Spain, Napa, Bordeaux, Italy—and none disappointed. Happy to spend an afternoon this way—it had begun to rain, anyway—we called some friends, who had recently moved from Dallas to Seagrove Beach, to join us, ordered another glass of wine, and noshed on a cheese plate.

As the sun began to set, we walked across the street to Meze, a pretty Mediterranean bistro with outdoor dining. Perched under the starry sky, we grazed on hummus, baba ghanoush, dolmas, and grilled shrimp stuffed with pine nuts, ricotta cheese, cilantro, and roasted bell pepper. Though too tired to partake in any after-dinner activities—we must be getting old—we vowed to return to Medusa Rouge the following night.

By day four, we had officially settled in. We had seen our good-friends-turned-beach-locals so many times that we felt like we lived there, too. On the advice of Patrick Krutz, who helps Shane behind the bar at Medusa, we went to Seagrove Village Market & Cafe, which is owned by another Dallas couple, George and Ann Hartley, who fled to the beach years ago and opened this now institution/convenience store/souvenir shop/cafe. We ordered a grouper plate—half grilled, half fried, just the way Patrick likes it. We visited Cowgirl Kitchen one more time for some corn-relish dip and Frito’s, which we took back to share with our newfound friends.

Back “home” at the wine bar in Rosemary, we were greeted like old buddies. Patrick, who had spent some time in Carmel, popped the top to his own concoction, Vinolocity. While we were gone, Stephanel Colby, who runs the kitchen at Sapristi (at the bottom of the Pensione), was asking for us. Turns out he, too, spent time in Dallas, cooking in the kitchens of Ferré and St. Emilion in Fort Worth. While we sipped a glass of Vinolocity, Stephanel opened his kitchen next-door especially for us and brought us a “tasting menu”—pan-sautéed soft-shell crab with yellow pepper aioli, matchstick frites dusted with herbes de Provence, fresh salmon wrapped in brick (potato paper similar to rice paper), and a decadent espresso pot du crème for dessert.

By the end of the night, Jason Brumm, chef de cuisine from Fish Out of Water, had shown up to the wine bar with our waiter from a few nights before. We all chatted and chided each other freely, as if we belonged there. As the time crept into the wee hours, we were vowing to keep in touch and offering free places to stay for anyone willing to come to Dallas.

I told you the beach was just like home.

Photo Courtesy of Watercolor