With its versatile performance space (we peeked in to catch a professional children’s theater troupe rehearsing), top-notch traveling exhibitions (Rembrandt’s beggars juxtaposed with Houston and Mazorra’s “tent city” installation), constantly revolving permanent collection and endless events, the Taubman has given this old railroad town a cutting-edge cultural center with growing room galore.
I spent a leisurely Saturday morning exploring the galleries, soaking up the spaces of this inhabitable sculpture, catching interesting glimpses of the urban and natural landscape outside. By lunchtime, I was in no rush to leave this artistic oasis and, thanks to the museum’s restaurant—Norah’s Café—I didn’t have to. I was curious to discover whether the Taubman’s cuisine was of the same caliber as its collection.
Named after the subject of the John Singer Sargent portrait (of Mrs. Norah Gribble) hanging proudly upstairs, Norah’s does a fine job of feeding museum-goers as well as downtowners in style. In addition to a bustling lunch business, the café is also open for the occasional Sunday brunch as well as dinner (tapas, wine flights) in the warmer months, when diners can enjoy the outdoor patio as well as the interior café, with its floor-to-ceiling windows and urban-elegant feel.
My companions and I decided to share a few salads and sandwiches, not realizing how hungry we were until we dug in. Norah’s Cobb has chunks of lobster tail, bacon and avocado on top of mixed greens, while the spicier Old Southwest salad starred chicken, sweet corn, black beans and a delicious house-made chipotle ranch dressing. Tempted by the salami and provolone of the Conductor sandwich, we went vegetarian with the Raleigh Court—hummus, raw veggies and piquant peppers in warm flatbread. For dessert, hot coffee and warm, homemade carrot cake hit the spot.
Dazzled by the setting and satisfied by my lunch, I still couldn’t help wishing that the café’s menu reflected more local and seasonal ingredients, such as those showcased just a few blocks away at Roanoke’s City (a.k.a. farmers’) Market. But culinary revolutions tend to be slower than artistic ones, so it’ll likely just be a matter of time.

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