Maybe it’s because I grew up in a small town, but there’s just something about them that tugs at my heart. The way folks wave from front porches. The hum of life that’s not in a rush. The feeling that time slows down just enough for you to actually catch your breath.
That’s the kind of welcome we found in Andalusia, Alabama — a town as charming as a front porch swing and twice as comforting.
Getting to Andalusia isn’t exactly a quick hop off the interstate. It’s a little off the beaten path — the kind of place you choose on purpose. And believe me, it’s worth it. We made a long weekend of it, flying into Florida’s Northwest Beaches airport and making the just-shy-of-two-hour drive across state lines. By the time we reached that quiet stretch of road leading into town, the stress of the week had already started to melt away.
We arrived near the end of March, and the azaleas all along the drive were a sight to behold. They grew wild and huge — the kind of blooms that nearly swallowed the front of houses in a sea of pinks and purples. Andalusia feels like a page out of a Southern storybook. The streets are lined with old trees, friendly folks, and there is a sense that people still take time to visit.
We found our way to The Cottle House, a beautifully restored one-story home built in 1905 (with a wide wraparound porch and rocking chairs) nestled just outside of town. The Cottle House is owned by none other than Brenda Gantt — Southern cook, internet favorite, and Alabama treasure. But if you’re expecting a celebrity experience, you’ll be surprised. Brenda isn’t about fanfare. She’s about faith, food, and making folks feel welcome — and she does all three beautifully.
Wes and I stayed in “The Cottage,” a snug one-room hideaway behind the main house. It’s filled with antique charm, including a clawfoot tub at the foot of the bed — and I couldn’t have picked a better spot to watch the sunset than from the rocking chairs on the porch.
Inside the main house, every room is filled with vintage treasures. The kind of antiques that make you want to wander, linger, and imagine who once sat in that chair or drank from that china cup.
There were 12 guests when we were there, and Mrs. Brenda makes breakfast three mornings a week. With the required two-night minimum stay, you’re guaranteed at least one morning around her table. And really, isn’t that why we go?
Guests came from Ohio, Tennessee, and a whole crew of us from Texas. One lady from Alto proudly declared herself Brenda’s biggest fan. Mrs. Brenda welcomed us all, then shared the morning’s menu: grits (I had no idea they could taste that good), locally made smoked link sausage, scrambled eggs, biscuits, gravy, and fried apple pies.
It was a rainy morning, and Brenda laughed as she told us, “My biscuits didn’t rise like they usually do. But when things like that happen, that’s just the Lord keeping us in our place so we don’t get too proud of ourselves.”
Before we filled our plates, she led us in prayer. And Wes and I still remember how she began it: “Heavenly Father, I thank you for today. It’s gloomy; it’s gray; it’s dark; it’s a bad hair day, but Lord, I pray that you will put joy in our hearts, and you can be our sunshine today. I pray we will be a blessing to others today.”
After breakfast, Brenda lingered for pictures, cookbook signings, and plenty of stories. She’s every bit as genuine as you’d hope — joyful, gracious, and wise.
One guest joked that her family makes fun of her for watching Brenda every morning. “They go around saying, ‘What would Brenda do?'” she laughed. Brenda didn’t miss a beat. “You tell them to kiss my foot!” she said, sending the table into a fit of laughter.
We also explored a little more of Andalusia. One afternoon we stopped at the Lost Pizza Company, where we ran into a few of our fellow guests. The pizza was great, the decor was funky and fun, and it gave us another chance to visit with new friends. We made a pass through the local Piggly Wiggly to pick up some of Brenda’s favorite White Lily flour and a couple of packages of Y’all Peach Tea. And the cutest little Dairy Queen you ever saw? Yes, we stopped there too.
One of my favorite parts of Brenda’s story is how it all started. “It was April 2020 during the pandemic,” she told me. “Some guys at my church wanted me to teach their wives to cook! I told them I didn’t have time, but one day I was cooking lunch for my family and thought, ‘I know what I’ll do. I’ll just video it.’” She put it on her personal Facebook page. The rest is history. “I think there’s about 4 million people on that page now.”
Her newest book, The Southern Mirror, isn’t a cookbook at all. It’s a collection of reflections and Southern memories meant for the coffee table. And she encourages everyone to do the same: “I think everybody needs to do a cookbook for your grandchildren. Even if it’s handwritten, with photos of your momma’s handwriting. It’s important.”
Before her video fame, Brenda was a schoolteacher. “I was real strict,” she admitted. “But when you’re strict and you’re protecting those children, they feel safe. They know if something goes wrong, Mrs. Gantt will take care of it.”
We came to Andalusia looking for a relaxing weekend. We left with full bellies, full hearts, and a few more stories to add to our own family collection.
It might take a little effort to get there, but The Cottle House is the kind of place you remember. And Brenda Gantt is the kind of person who reminds you what real hospitality tastes like. So, if you ever find yourself needing peace, comfort, and the best biscuit you’ve ever eaten, go ahead and make the drive. You won’t leave hungry.
