
After an unexpected stopover in Titusville, Florida due to our frustrating and frightening experience with two blown tires on our fifth-wheel, Lucy, we canceled our reservation at Eagle Hammock RV Park at the Naval Submarine Base in King’s Bay, GA. The frightening part is understandable—blow-outs on a busy interstate highway are unsettling at best and downright scary at worst. The frustrating aspect of this experience came with the canceled reservation. Helen and I looked forward to our first trip to Eagle Hammock because we visit that part of the country often and were eager to try out a new campground near the coast.
With one new tire and a spare mounted on Lucy, we decided to shorten our route to Knoxville because we had doubts about the lifespan of the two remaining tires on Lucy’s other side. Although the route we chose would take us through Atlanta’s heavy traffic, we would shave a few hundred miles off of our original plan and allow us to get home and replace the old tires. After checking out the options on the MilitaryLiving.com website, we placed a call to the Marine Logistics Base in Albany, GA and secured a campsite in the RV park for two nights. We arrived late in the afternoon and parked Lucy in a very spacious campsite under a large Live Oak tree. It wasn’t on the coast, but it wasn’t bad either.

The next morning, I received a call from a friend, and, in the course of our conversation, I told him we were in Albany. It turns out that my friend had visited the area many times in previous years to hunt quail on some prime hunting ground. Albany, with its beautiful pine trees, numerous plantations, and pecan farms advertises itself as the quail hunting capital of the world. My friend told me of the many visits he made to those plantations and, he also told me about the best place to eat lunch in the entire State of Georgia—Abbott’s Grocery. Helen found it on Trip Advisor, accompanied with a high rating.

My friend described Abbott’s as a small country grocery with a hot food counter inside. The menu usually included such items as fried fish, fried chicken, smothered steak, collards, pinto beans, black-eyed peas and similar items all designed to fill up hungry southern boys during lunch after the morning hunting session. Inside the store, it was usually standing-room-only during hunting season. Outside, the parking lot was just as full with hunters, bird dogs, and big pickup trucks. As a return favor for sharing this gem with us, my friend asked us to pick up a sack of White Acre tiny peas for his wife’s Valentine Day present. Assigned a mission now, we put Abbott’s on our busy schedule for lunch.

We found Abbott’s after a delightful drive through some of those plantations and pecan farms only to discover that Abbott’s was now Crossroads Market. Thinking that we might be in the wrong place, we drove around the building and spotted a sign for Abbott’s Meat Processing. We returned to the front of the market and went inside. The market was no longer a small country store. The shelves were full, the aisles well-lit, and there was a large butcher shop in the rear.

Around the corner from the butcher counter, a small dining area contained two or three tables and a counter for ordering food. Today’s menu, a hand-written list of meals, lay next to a large tip jar. I had to order the vegetable soup and cornbread…so good. The number of customers was certainly not standing-room, but there was a steady crowd on hand to keep the kitchen staff busy. We finished our soup, tipped the cooks, and went in search of White Acre peas. We found them in the freezer on a shelf above the Mountain Oysters (don’t ask, but it’s a delicacy in these parts).


We bought two sacks of peas, including a sack for us, and some ham hocks to cook with them, then walked back outside. As I stood in front of the market taking pictures for my friend, an elderly gentleman walked by. We nodded at each other. After walking ahead for about ten steps, he turned and came back to me and introduced himself as Mr. Abbott.
“I owned this store for 43 years,” he told me in a molasses-thick Georgia accent.
“I finally sold it, but I come in often to make sure they’re treating my customers right. My son owns the meat plant in the rear. I taught him everything he knows and he’s making a killing,” he said with a slight chuckle.
I told him about the rave reviews my friend gave Abbott’s Grocery and all of the great meals he shared there with his hunting pals. Mr. Abbott seemed pleased to hear that.
“We served a lot of meals to those hunting fellas. I got to be friends with a lot of them, and they came back every year. I miss those days, but I decided to let it go—not gettin’ any younger, you know.”

We chatted for a few more minutes before I asked him if he would pose for a picture. He accepted, but I’m not sure if he wanted the attention. We shook hands and he turned toward the store saying it was time to check on “things.” He glanced back once before going inside. Helen and I admired the yard art in front of the market, then took our peas back to the Marine Base and placed them in Lucy’s freezer.
We left Albany the next morning and drove back through Atlanta and beyond without incident. Although our trip to Florida and the Florida Keys had been a rousing success, it passed by too quickly. One month isn’t enough time in warm weather. I understand snowbirds a bit better now. Hopefully, we can stay longer next year. Retirement is such a good gig.
