The first thing you notice as you walk into the Spaghetti Club is the gorgeous pine bar and the rustic mass that frames it. This time-worn collection of brick, board and plank looks as if it might have once served in some ancient and storied Lowcountry watering hole – a speakeasy, perhaps – rescued from the wrecking ball to be pieced back together on this genteel corner of Habersham.

The Moveable Feast gang finds that membership has its privileges...

Story & photos by Mark Shaffer

Let's cut to the chase. Right now you're wondering, "So how's the spaghetti at the Spaghetti Club?" It's the obvious question. The short answer is assolutamente fantastico, un lavoro d'amore. And as my colleagues noted many, many times during this meal, both the meatballs and the Alfredo Sauce are "to die for." To. Die. For. But we'll get to that.

Back in my Boston days, I was fortunate enough to have had a terrific job in sales with lots of interesting customers and very few grumpy purchasing managers to deal with. Business was very good and held up quite nicely for a good number of years. But – and there is always a BUT – there was a task that was part of the job description that took some discipline.