Au Revoir, Orangery

I didn't write a eulogy for the Orangery when its closing was announced last month because I was waiting for the second shoe to drop. I assumed somebody would buy it and keep it going. 

I'm no expert on their menu. I've eaten there hardly a dozen times in my life. I relish good food and good atmosphere, but I find it hard justify to myself spending more than $20 while doing nothing but sitting at a table. That's not a criticism, just a personal reality of a guy who tries to support a couple of kids on a reporter's salary, who can rarely afford personal extravagance; and as an admitted Presbyterian with Scottish roots, I'm not sure I could ever enjoy such a meal as it was meant to be enjoyed. To do so I'd have to ignore the interior voices of ancestors muttering, in a thick brogue: Who do ye think ye are, Neely. Charles I? Ye knew wha became o' him. 

But I respect its importance to Knoxville. It was an option that was important to many, and an ingredient of what makes the city work; it's been part of the improvements that have led Knoxville to be much more interesting place to live in 2009 than it was in 1971, when the Orangery opened as the closest approximation of a French restaurant in the region. 

I thought there'd be more to the story. Thirty-eight-year-old restaurants don't just die, even in a recession. I've certainly never had a bad meal there, and when I've been there, it's done good business. One weekend evening, working on a story there a few years ago, the place was utterly packed, reservations only. I overheard the maitre d' mention that two of the reservations belonged to Oscar-winning actress Patricia Neal and opera diva Mary Costa, in different parties. 

It was where we always took visiting celebrities to prove we could be fancy, even though we're in East Tennessee. There were stories about everybody from Gene Simmons to Rudolph Nuryev. Does anybody else remember hearing the story that Billy Joel wrote his 1977 song, "Only the Good Die Young" while lingering over a meal at the Orangery? (That would have been in the original building, the one with the doors from Juan Peron's palace, which burned about 25 years ago.)

The Orangery was Knoxville's champion in the multiple-star-restaurant game. It closed as a three-star restaurant, but was once a four, for whatever it's worth. I once heard the only reason they didn't have Mobil's top five-star rating was that they lacked valet parking, usually unnecessary in a suburban strip with a parking lot. If the Orangery era is indeed over and done, after 38 years, I hope our other restaurants aspire to pick up the slack.