Live Like a Local in Richmond, Kentucky: Hidden Gems and Insider Tips

My grandfather always said you could tell a town's soul by its record shops, and Richmond delivers with unexpected vinyl treasures tucked between the chain stores and campus hangouts. My first stop is always Cosmic Vinyl Outpost on Water Street, where owner Frank (a former astronomy professor with stories for days) curates an impressive selection of bluegrass, classic country, and indie gems. The shop's back room houses a collection of rare Kentucky-pressed records that would make any collector's heart race.

Last summer, I scored an original pressing of Bill Monroe's 'Kentucky Waltz' that now holds a place of honor in my collection. Before digging through crates, I always fuel up at Apollo Pizza across the street, where the thin crust rivals anything I've had in Chicago (don't tell my Midwest friends). Their outdoor patio makes the perfect spot to review your vinyl scores while enjoying a local West Sixth IPA.

If you're serious about record hunting, pack your finds in a vinyl record tote to keep them protected during your travels. I learned this lesson the hard way after a summer rainstorm nearly ruined my Bill Monroe find!

Richmond might not have a major league stadium, but it harbors a baseball history that would make Ken Burns weep with joy. My grandfather would have loved Turkey Hughes Field at Eastern Kentucky University, not just for the college games, but for its connection to the Negro League barnstorming era. In the 1940s, teams like the Indianapolis Clowns would stop here during southern tours.

The real gem, though, is the unmarked field behind the Madison County Historical Society. Local historians told me this was once the home of the Richmond Pioneers, a semi-pro team from the 1920s that featured several players who eventually made it to the majors. I spent a golden afternoon photographing the barely-visible outline of the infield, now just subtle depressions in the grass that most visitors walk right past.

For serious baseball history buffs, visit the small but mighty display at the Madison County Public Library. They keep a collection of vintage equipment, including a glove reportedly used by Kentucky native and Hall of Famer Pee Wee Reese during a exhibition game here. I always bring my baseball scorebook to document these historical sites—there's something deeply satisfying about connecting to baseball's past through the ritual of pencil and paper.

One of Richmond's best-kept secrets is its surprisingly dark skies just minutes from downtown. When I first visited EKU's Hummel Planetarium, I expected the typical college facility. Instead, I found the second-largest planetarium in Kentucky with a passionate staff running exceptional programs. But the real astronomical treasure lies about 15 minutes outside town.

Head south on Highway 421 to the Maywoods Environmental and Educational Laboratory, a 1700-acre EKU research forest where light pollution fades into spectacular dark skies. The local astronomy club hosts monthly star parties here (check the Richmond Register for dates), but you can access the main field anytime. During my last visit, I captured a stunning Milky Way panorama rising over the rolling hills—a shot that had my Instagram followers convinced I was in some remote mountain range, not just outside a Kentucky college town.

I always pack my red light headlamp for nighttime astronomy sessions—the red light mode preserves your night vision while giving you enough light to set up equipment or just find your way around. And don't forget to bring a foldable camp chair for comfortable stargazing. Your neck will thank you after hours of looking up!

Richmond's food scene won't make any national lists, but that's precisely why it's perfect for travelers seeking authentic local flavor without the tourist markups. My standard breakfast routine starts at Purdy's Coffee on Main Street, where barista Eliza remembers regular customers' orders and the cold brew packs enough caffeine to jumpstart a locomotive. Their homemade pumpkin bread is worth the trip alone.

For lunch, skip the campus chains and head to Baldwin's BBQ on East Main—a tiny spot with exactly three tables and the kind of slow-smoked brisket that makes Texans nervous. Mr. Baldwin has been smoking meat for over 40 years, and his sauce recipe remains such a secret that employees sign NDAs. I'm not even exaggerating.

Dinner presents the ultimate local choice: Babylon Café, where owner Zuhair serves Iraqi family recipes with Kentucky hospitality. The lamb kabobs with saffron rice have sustained me through many late-night editing sessions. For dessert, Dreaming Creek Brewery offers beer floats using local Creamery ice cream—their stout float with bourbon vanilla is basically Kentucky in a glass.

I always keep a food journal to document memorable meals during my travels. It's become both a personal food diary and a reference guide for future trips—I can flip back and remember exactly what to order when I return.

While Battle of Richmond sites get the tourist attention, the real historical treasures require a bit more exploration. The White Hall State Historic Site offers the expected guided tours, but ask about access to the rarely visited servant quarters and underground passages. My camera has documented corners of this mansion that even some locals don't know exist.

Downtown Richmond's architecture tells stories that span centuries if you know where to look. The Rogers Building on Main Street features one of the most beautiful cast-iron facades in Kentucky, but its real treasure is inside—original tin ceilings preserved in what's now a local art gallery. I spent an entire afternoon photographing the intricate patterns, marveling at craftsmanship that's survived nearly 150 years.

My favorite historical discovery came from a chance conversation with an elderly gentleman at Purdy's Coffee. He directed me to the unmarked Maple Grove Cemetery, where handmade tombstones from the 1800s feature folk art carvings and poetic epitaphs that offer intimate glimpses into frontier life. I always carry my stone rubbing kit to document these fragile pieces of history—though always with permission and extreme care to avoid damaging the stones.