Melt Auburn


Have you ever been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Boy, my husband Mike and I pulled a doozy a few weeks ago.
We traveled to Willow Point Country Club in my hometown of Alexander City (“Eleck” City to the locals). There, we were going to meet Coach Hugh Freeze and Coach Bruce Pearl from Auburn University, my alma mater, and have our picture made with them. Then we would join other Auburn alumni and fans for a buffet supper and afterward listen to our coaches speak.
Alas, the first event didn’t happen. The ticket on my phone said that I was a sponsor and that only sponsors would have their pictures made with the coaches.
This was confusing because I didn’t know how I could be a sponsor, so I went up to a young lady from the Lake Martin Auburn Club (the group who arranged the event) to ask about it.
When I asked the young lady about it, she said, “I am SO sorry; this is all my fault. I accidentally sent the wrong email to you and some other people.” In other words, Mike and I would not be taking a picture with Coach Freeze and Coach Pearl, the main reason we bought tickets for this event.
Remembering our Christian upbringing, we said it was all right, and the very apologetic woman thanked us for being understanding.
However, we were WARM. We went to the buffet table to get our supper, then we searched for a table. It was one million degrees outside, so we weren’t eating out there with the hardier Auburn alumni and fans.
People were standing to eat inside because there weren’t enough tables. I refused to stand and eat because I drip.
Then, we saw a room to our right. Three attractive ladies were eating at one end of a formal, long wooden table.
We opened the door and asked if we could join them, and they said that would be fine.
One lady, Jill, introduced us to her daughter and niece. (I’m sorry that I forgot their names — my shock at what happened next drove their names from my brain.)
The ladies were very sweet, and we enjoyed chatting with them. However, suddenly, the door to our room opened, and in walked Coach Hugh Freeze with a plate in his hand. Mike and I were stunned, our hearts falling to our shoes. We had unknowingly crashed the Freeze table. We stammered our apologies for intruding.
I said, “Mrs. Freeze, you didn’t tell us you were Jill Freeze.” She smiled and said, “Call me Jill. It’s all right.” Mike also apologized to Coach Freeze, who was just as kind as his wife regarding our unknowing intrusion. I later thought that someone from the country club should have put a sign that said, “Private party; do not enter.”
We chatted briefly with Coach Freeze. He had to be somewhere in a few minutes.
I whispered to Mike, “Should we ask for Coach Freeze to take a picture with us?”
My husband, who is much more tactful than I am, whispered back, “No, he’s in a hurry.”
Coach Hugh Freeze, this review is for you, your wife Jill and your daughter and niece. Thanks for making Mike and me feel welcome instead of tossing us out.
War Eagle!
I think that God felt sorry for us for not getting that picture with the coaches, so He let us meet Coach Freeze. Also, I believe that God has a great sense of humor. But I digress. On to my review.
Recently, Mike, who is my tech support and trusty photographer, was searching the internet for new restaurants in Lee County. He found Melt Auburn, which is at 1800 Samford Trace Court, Suite 240.
When we entered Melt, Lindsey and Kohle greeted us warmly and happily answered all my questions. They get an A+ from this retired English teacher because they were perfect at their positions.
I really liked the play area near the door for children. Also, the restaurant has front and back patios which allow dogs. These patios are both covered and have fans and televisions. Melt is ready for Auburn football to kick off.
Melt is an upbeat, lively place. Mike and I loved the kids’ lunchboxes on each table that housed silverware and napkins. Ours was Dr. Seuss’s Cat in the Hat. The table next to us had E.T.
Melt, which also has locations in the Birmingham suburbs of Mountain Brook and Hoover as well as in Huntsville, opened in Auburn on May 16. The local franchise is owned by a mother and daughter duo, Laura Kowalczyk and Laura (Lou) Huddleston. Ms. Huddleston was so welcoming. She said that Melt will eventually open for Sunday brunch.
Currently, the restaurant serves lunch and dinner.
Janey, our server, was amazing; she was very friendly, helpful and patient.
As a starter, we ordered the honey baked goat cheese, which, besides goat cheese, consisted of strawberries, toasted pecans and drizzled honey. It was served with sourdough and was SO delicious. I was really proud of myself because I ate only two half pieces of the bread.
Mike ordered the classic grilled cheese, which included cheddar, Monterey jack and American cheeses on Texas toast. He chose beer-battered fries for his side.
I selected the chicken bacon ranch, which included grilled chicken, bacon Monterey jack and cheddar cheeses, lettuce, tomato, drizzled with Miss Fancy’s Ranch on Texas toast. I also chose the beer-battered fries.
Chef John Ford brought us our food. He was very welcoming and hoped we would enjoy our meals.
Oh, my two times! We definitely enjoyed our meals. Trust me, run and do not walk to Melt. Mike and I will see you there.
Besides our tasty honey baked goat cheese, Melt also serves diners other great starters, some of which include mac ‘n egg rolls, food truck nachos, bacon ranch dip, fried pickles and Matilda bites.
The restaurant also serves a variety of salads. Besides our delicious sandwiches, Melt also serves chicken pesto, Reuben, buffalo chicken, Ragin Cajun and the Cuban, among others.
And when my sugar average is much lower than it is now, I want to order their deep-fried Oreos. Every Southerner knows that anything fried is going to be delicious.
Melt Auburn is closed on Sunday and Monday. The restaurant is open on Tuesday-Saturday from 11 a.m. to 9 p.m.
Melt Auburn makes the grade with an A+ from this retired English teacher.
Remember, “Pooh-sized” people NEVER lie about food. Enjoy!
Stacey Patton Wallace, who retired from teaching language arts for 30 years, is a professional diner. Her column, “Making the Grade,” will appear every other week in The Observer. Stacey may be reached at