Omnivore Atlanta

A New York Times staffer, Amanda Hesser, thinks it’s dandy that Michelle Obama planted an organic garden but she wants Michelle to get more savvy about cooking:

When The Washington Post asked Mrs. Obama for her favorite recipe, she replied, “You know, cooking isn’t one of my huge things.” And last month, when a boy who was visiting the White House asked her if she liked to cook, she replied: “I don’t miss cooking. I’m just fine with other people cooking.” Though delivered lightheartedly, and by someone with a very busy schedule, the message was unmistakable: everyday cooking is a chore.

Both times Mrs. Obama missed a great opportunity to get people talking about a crucial yet neglected aspect of the food discussion: cooking. Because terrific local ingredients aren’t much use if people are cooking less and less; cooking is to gardening what parenting is to childbirth. Research by the NPD Group showed that Americans ate takeout meals an average of 125 times a year in 2008, up from 72 a year in 1983. And a recent U.C.L.A. study of 32 working families found that the subjects viewed cooking from scratch as a kind of rarefied hobby.

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My mom’s a spirited tree hugger spiked with a shot of worried parent syndrome. She’s always calling me in the middle of the day to explain that she has found yet another environmental threat to my health. Here’s what she sent to my inbox this morning: it’s a list of the “dirty dozen” foods that you should buy organic from thedailygreen.com.

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Light Beer: Stone Levitation Ale

It’s that time of year again, where Bud Light Lime pulls its “seasons change, tastes don’t”ads and starts running its “Summer. Not just a season, but a taste” ads. Well, I’ve tasted summer and it is way better than Bud Light Lime. Commercials like these give the impression that summer beers have to taste like Gatorade so as not to interfere with your pickup game of football with the Girls of the Southeast Conference.

Certainly, summer calls for beer with a lighter body, a drier finish, moderate alcohol, and perhaps a bit of citric tartness. Sweet, thick, roasty, and potent beers do lose some of their appeal in hot weather. Still, the desired characteristics can be achieved without sucking out all the flavor. Additions of specialty malts, spices, and fruit can all make a beer more palatable on a hot day. More importantly perhaps, the right hops can add citrus, spice, and floral aromas and flavors, along with quenching bitterness. (more…)

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The third annual “Taste of Sandy Springs” festival will take place this Saturday in Atlanta’s newest city, featuring samplings from local restaurants, live music, and a silent auction. All proceeds will go to community charities. Restaurant participants include Eclipse di Luna, Wildfire, and The Flying Biscuit Cafe. Children 10 and under are admitted free.

(Photo courtesy of City of Sandy Springs)

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Those eighth-graders spelled some serious food words last night at the National Spelling Bee finals. NYC blog The Life Vicarious put up some of the highlights. They include:

Neufchatel: a soft cheese from Normandy.

Palatschinken: The Austrian and Central Bavarian name for a central European pancake.

Simnel: a light fruit cake covered in marzipan.

Check out the whole list at The Life Vicarious, but take their quiz first to see if you can match the food names to their pictures.

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New York Magazine’s food blog Grub Street has named Knife’s Edge columnist and Atlanta chef Richard Blais “The Baddest Effin’ Chef on Twitter.” The nod was due to Blais’ at times charged tweets about his patrons, staff, and his cooking demo with chef Stefan Richter.

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I’m stalking Jennifer Zyman and lunched today at Tiny Bistro (which, I swear, I did not notice she reviewed earlier this week). The bistro is a relatively new operation of Figs and Honey Catering.

I second Jennifer’s comments about the meatloaf and mashed potato sandwich with bacon and cheddar (above). I was prepared to be disgusted but swallowed it whole.

My friend Michael ordered the Cuban sandwich flavored with some guava. I also ordered some pasta salad. I’ve never liked pasta salad anywhere and I’m afraid Tiny Bistro didn’t change my mind. The tasteless black olives — not kalamatas — didn’t help.

On the other hand, a dark, fudgy, chocolate-iced brownie would make a great facial mask or pillow.

Michael and I both bought jars of local honey the shop sells. I’ll report later.

(Photos by Cliff Bostock)

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This just appeared as Riccardo Ullio’s Facebook status:

Cuerno will be closing its doors this Sunday, so for all of you that have enjoyed dining there in the past, please stop by this weekend for a farewell.

No word yet on the reason for the closing.

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Here’s a scene from my early career. I was living in a small town in rural Georgia, a place where my big-city senses underwent continual shock. One very early morning, I awoke to the sound of screams. I’m talking blood-curdling screams. They seemed to come from several directions.

I threw on some clothes and hopped in the car. After all, I was a reporter and it appeared a mass murder was underway. What I found was that people were engaging in an annual ritual of the first freeze: butchering hogs. I’ve never forgotten the sound and the bloody scene I observed.

I suppose I am overly sentimental about animals. After that experience, it was many months before I could eat pork. I went years, too, without eating veal when I saw the conditions of crate-raised calves.

(Photo by James Camp)

Continue reading the latest Grazing.

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This post by Jennifer Leslie on 11Alive.com, qualifies as one of the most disturbing local restaurant stories I’ve ever come across — and if you’ve got a weak stomach I don’t recommend you click the link. The story’s opening:

DORAVILLE, Ga. — A local restaurant with a loyal following and rave reviews is under the microscope.

Doraville Police took pictures a few months ago of a skinned cat and raw meat stacked in the back of Ming’s BBQ on Buford Highway.

The pictures, taken on January 23, forced Ming’s to make big changes.

They showed grease traps overflowing, pigs stacked in buckets, boxes of raw meat sitting outside and pieces of raw meat hanging from a fence.

“One of the employees was taking, we don’t know what kind of meat it was, but he was tossing it over a fence, and we did get pictures of that,” said Officer Rosemary Martin.

The numerous comments at the end of the article are quite interesting, with many accusing the media of sensationalizing the story, particularly in implying that the restaurant had butchered a cat. There are quite a few posts also (understandably) alleging ethnic stereotyping. (Hat tip to our commenter, FoodieMan.)

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A vegan bake sale to benefit a very worthy cause, CatSnip, will be held 12 noon-4 p.m. Sunday, June 21, in front of Criminal Records in Little Five Points. This is part of a worldwide event. Be there or Nubs and the Baby will scratch your eyes out.

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We hit the Shed at Glenwood’s weekly $3 slider night yesterday and Chef Lance Gummere’s latest, one made with barbacoa, was fantastico. I also ordered schnitzel with pear preserves and an Angus burger. And here’s a shot, too, of the trio of beignets with maple syrup and crumbled bacon that I ordered at Abattoir. (”Beignet” is French for “donut,” just like “abattoir” is French for “slaughterhouse.” Yes, there are varieties of beignets. Thus it would be as correct to say, “I got me some donuts at the slaughterhouse after I ate the kidneys.”)

(Photos by Cliff Bostock)

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Stains are the mundane bane of many red wine drinkers. Inevitably, juice dribbles down the shirt, drips on the carpet, or spills on the clean — mostly likely new — white tablecloth. It’s inevitable and a buzz kill. One of my cream-colored couches, which I bought long before wine controlled my life, is now dotted with pinkish splotches, whispering tales of half-drunken accidents that weren’t mopped up. But my spill knowledge has grown and I’m ready to share my expert spotty advice on remedying red wine messes.

Read the rest of Corkscrew: How to avoid and clean up red wine stains.

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A bill was introduced in the House of Representatives yesterday that would give the FDA much greater oversight on where food additives come from, what they go into, and who violates cleanliness standards along the way.

The legislation is a response to the salmonella outbreak due to contaminated peanuts that left nine dead earlier this year. Inspectors found that a Georgia plant for the Peanut Corporation of America had not been inspected for seven years, and that the company had not disclosed contaminants when they found them in their products.

Under the new bill, the FDA will charge every food facility $1000 to pay for the new system of checks. Private laboratories used to test products will report to the governmental agency, and manufacturers and handlers will have to identify and document contamination risks. The hope is that the FDA will be able to trace any product from source to a consumer’ stomach — the lack of such ability was one of the major issues in the recent salmonella outbreak.

(Photo by Alice Welch)

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Bon Appétit’s “Foodist” visits Atlanta and files rave reviews, replete with pics, of near-neighbors Varasano’s and Holeman & Finch. Excerpts:

Varasano’s won’t win any design awards for hipness; it’s a few steps up from an airport food court. (I was reassured, though, to notice the girl sitting next to me wearing a t-shirt that read “Shakespeare hates your emo poems.”) But never mind that. I challenge you to find me a better pizza pie…

H + F’s menu is devoted to small plates: trad Southern meets trad pub. Cornmeal Fried Oysters were perfect. One poached egg served with a small, thick piece of house bacon and a Johnnycake was satisfying–and just right size. Best of all was the house-made currywurst served with Savannah Red Pea dahl, a brilliantly balanced melding of flavors and smart nod to England’s love of Indian food.

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I just devoured a great pizza with burrata, balsamic reduction, chopped tomatoes and (way too much) roasted garlic at Stella.

I’m in training for the Carnivore Challenge at Big Pie in the Sky, but need a partner.  (Hat tip, Brian Cohn)

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The following e-mail is from a visitor to our city:

Tonight my family of five dined at the chef’s table at Nan Thai Fine Dining.
The bill came to $739 and I wish we had ordered a pizza instead.

My sister has dined at Nan several times and had eaten at the chef’s table
a few months back. I am from Philadelphia and have eaten at Tamarind
previously. We were expecting a terrific meal and I had flown up from Philly
for the holiday and my parents had driven to Atlanta. My mother is a
vegetarian who eats seafood. My father eats chicken and seafood, and the
remaining three of us eat beef, shrimp and chicken, but not pork.

The first course was a crepe accompanied with a shumai stuffed with one
shrimp. It was ok. Course two: noodles with shrimp. Not bad. Course three:
short rib soup for the three of us and tofu soup for the two of them — it
was very good. Course four: Intermezzo: lychee sorbet served with dry ice –
very nice. Course five: sea bass for the three of us and it was good. My
parents were saddled with tofu mixed with shrimp and it was too salty.
They were given an alternative: two shrimps and an okra, which was a step up.

Course six: green curry with guess what ….two shrimps. Although it was
good, my dad, a physician — actually, three of us at the table were
physicians — joked that we all should have our cholesterol checked in the
morning. Course seven and the last course per our server: flan. Not good.
We asked about course eight as we were told there were eight courses. We
were given a Bailey’s equivalent with a scoop of ice cream.

At the end of the meal, we spoke to the manager about our disappointing
experience. Is chicken an endangered species in Atlanta? It was
nowhere to be seen on our menu. Almost every dish had shrimp. Where was
the lobster, lamb (my favorite), and where was the rice. We never got any
rice or vegetables! Where was the satay? This is a Thai place after
all. It was a total rip off. I am a foodie. I eat at all of the Philly
restaurants and in NYC and I think Nan is a waste of my time and my family’s
money. The manager did nothing to alleviate our pitiful experience.

And, finally, where was the chef? Not even a hello? Maybe the chef at Nan
was too busy to grace us with their presence. In the end, the meal was ok,
very overpriced, and terribly disappointing. I will never go back and I
recommend you don’t either.

A Google search reveals that the writer has sent the same comments to many review sites, like Urban
Spoon and Yelp.

I also find that Nan’s website says the cost of the chef’s table includes “beer, wine and champagne.” The writer doesn’t mention whether or how much her family drank. The website also says that the chef’s table requires a minimum of six people, so that may have affected the overall cost for the writer’s party of five. Finally, I note that the website says meals at the chef’s table include six to eight courses, not necessarily eight.

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I happened to browse through the June issue of Men’s Journal at the barbershop today and noticed an article about the 30 best neighborhoods in America. Writer Jonathan Lerner penned the Atlanta entry and bestowed the award on the Old Fourth Ward. The article featured a photo of Lotta Frutta, the kinky little cafe at 590 Auburn Ave.

The article isn’t online yet, but I did find a couple of other manly foodie items. There’s a brief piece on Chef David Conn’s version of the  “Bacon Explosion” at New York’s Channel 4 pub. He serves slices of the artery-clogger on slider buns. Perhaps Lance Gummere of the Shed on Glenwood could adopt the recipe for his Wednesday night menu of various sliders for $3 each.

The magazine’s May issue featured a piece about hunting and cooking wild boar in South Carolina. Author Manny Howard opens with a scene that would titillate Michael Vick:

“Manny, if this is gonna happen, it’s gonna have to happen very soon,” Allan Boyd, our guide, calls from the opposite bank of a five-foot-wide canal, where the water is so black there’s no telling how deep it is. With both hands he’s gripping the left hind leg of a 200-pound Russian boar sow. Cornered between two cypress, the pig hammers back at the four hunting dogs attacking it. One of them has locked onto its snout. With a vigorous, elliptical sweep of its broad neck and shoulders the sow swings the dog high above its head and slams it savagely onto the cypress roots on the swamp floor. The dog doesn’t loosen its grip. This happens four more times, even as the three other dogs tear at the boar’s face and ears. Now Boyd is annoyed: “Manny, these dogs are getting hurt. They’ve been up on her too long.”

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TINY Bistro (1039 Marietta St., 404-745-9561, www.figsandhoneycatering.com) is one of the latest restaurants to open its doors on the booming Westside. The little lunch spot, owned by Karen and Robert Haan, is tucked away behind Octane Coffee. While it’s minimally decorated, flourishes like the ironically capitalized “TINY” sign, faux silver flatware, the vibrant pink floral dining room and the infectiously cheery staff make it exceedingly warm (and kind of precious). In a weird way, the bistro feels like it’s been around forever; this is undoubtedly due to its eight-year history as a catering company (in this same location) whose name recently changed to Figs & Honey Catering.

Continue reading Cheap Eats.

(Photo by Jennifer Zyman)

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OOOHH BABY BABY: The baby octopus salad at Taverna

All but the best menus should be approached as one would a treasure hunt or a detective novel — as a search for clues, ingredients, and preparations that might make for the most enjoyable meal. Where most chefs showcase their best dishes with bravado, Taverna Fiorentina’s Andreas Montobbio tends to hide his authentic, soul-pleasing Italian dishes behind the veneer of suburbia-friendly comfort. It’s real Italian food posing as watered-down Italian food.

Little information can be garnered from the restaurant’s generic strip-mall façade, or from the classic dining room bedecked in dark wood and muted accents. A large flatscreen TV hovers over the bar playing a slideshow of dramatic Italian villas and vistas. Even the menu’s antipasto platters, fritto misto, green salads and veal saltimbocca give the comforting impression that there’s not many risks being taken here.

But in the pasta section, clues start to arise signaling a more serious Italian heart in the kitchen than appearances would have you believe.

Continue reading “Restaurant review: Taverna Fiorentina”

(Photo by James Camp)

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Wayne and I hit the new Abattoir last night. I know the restaurant is literally located in a former slaughter house. But, honestly, I have very mixed feelings about a name that reminds me of Upton Sinclair’s harrowing novel, The Jungle, about the Chicago meatpacking industry in the early 1900s. And then there was Bob Herbert’s campaign against the Smithfield Packing Company in the New York Times a few years ago.

Abattoir, rather like Holeman & Finch, is part of the “whole animal” movement. As its website says: “Abattoir will feature dishes redolent of head cheese, innards, feet and tongue.”

Boy howdy. This starter of chicken liver pate served in a jar with an armagnac glaze was tame beside our lamb kidneys and tripe stew. We didn’t taste anything that wasn’t impressive, even if it was offal (laugh, damn it).

Abattoir had only been open a few days when we visited but is already operating smoothly. We did have one rather out-of-the-ordinary experience, but you’ll have to read about that later this week in Grazing.

(Photos by Cliff Bostock)

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First sign of the times: Cheap food. I can’t think of a better bargain in Midtown than a meal at Eats on Ponce de Leon Avenue. Here’s half a chicken roasted with jerk seasonings, an ear of fresh corn, a bowl of lima beans and some collards — for just under $10. And it all tastes good

Second sign of the times: This warning is affixed to the door of Eats.

Third sign of the times: Ansley Mall is doomed to eventual redevelopment but the Piccadilly Cafeteria there is closing this week or next, I’m told. I wonder where the area’s church groups will go for dinner now. The parade of hats and suits in colors unknown to nature has long been a favorite Sunday spectacle there.

(Photos by Cliff Bostock)

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La Pietra Cucina has reopened after three weeks of remodeling the main dining room. It’s hard to communicate what a startling difference there is in this rather formal-feeling space and the original, which was ensconced in the private dining room of the original tenant, Midcity Cuisine.

The new dining room is absolutely huge and rather darkly lit, with walls painted a reddish-brown that looks purple in darker areas. As soon as we took our seats in rather throne-like wingback chairs, my friend Frank Miller remarked that he felt like we should be swirling brandy snifters and puffing on cigars.

The wait staff has more than doubled and Chef Bruce Logue has added a former associate to the kitchen staff. The food is as good as ever — at least at lunchtime Friday when the Memorial Day weekend kept the crowd sparse.

The menu is about the same for now but Logue will be adding more dishes as the staff hits its stride. I ordered this slice of Tiella Gaetana (top), which is two layers of unleavened pizza dough stuffed with escarole, capers, olives and ricotta cheese. The crust is deliciously crispy and the filling slightly acidic and a bit sweet too. I’d never had the dish before and was expecting something more like traditional pizza (because I only half-listened to the server’s description).

When I asked Logue why he wasn’t doing pizza, he replied, “I wouldn’t even attempt to compete with Varasano’s. There should be no other pizza on Peachtree Street.” In other words, he loves Varasano’s — especially the dough — and called it the closest thing in Atlanta to the pizzas he ate in Italy. That’s quite an endorsement.

I also ordered this salad (above right) of porchetta with pickled fennel, baby arugula and aged piave. It was a huge portion, especially with the tiella, and Frank helped me finish it. His own entree was classic trenette al pesto, which included potatoes and wild nettles as well as pesto Genovese.

(Photos by Cliff Bostock)

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HANIL KWAN: Unlike many Korean barbecue establishments, this restaurant shies away from the dark, cavernous look and feel. Instead, the dining room is filled with natural light that pours in from the many windows. Any of the marinated beef selections are tops. But step outside of your comfort zone and order the “bread skin,” thin slices of marbled beef that curl and caramelize on the charcoal grill. The banchan is the only drawback, as it tends to be a little limp on most occasions. However, the large varieties of beef and excellent service make up for this shortcoming. 5458 Buford Highway, Doraville. 770-457-3217.

Continue reading Mouthful.

(Photo by Jennifer Zyman)

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I had the week’s best meal last night at Dynamic Dish. It’s been a couple of months since we’ve eaten there. Every time we’ve gone by, the restaurant has been booked full. Unless it’s a meal for review, I don’t do reservations.

I ordered baby eggplants stuffed with pureed artichokes, topped with a bit of cheese. On the side was steamed kale in EVOO and some wedges of roasted Gold Yukons. Wayne got a zucchini quiche that was a bit too oniony but otherwise perfect. It was served with some mixed greens.

For our starter, we split a caesar salad. The romaine lettuce was topped with sliced avocados sprinkled with black sesame seeds. Crunchy “nutritional yeast croutons” garnished the salad, whose dressing was made from a vegan mayo spiked with a hot chili powder. Delicious.

The restaurant has five matching community tables now and looks better than ever. …

We hit Spoon in East Atlanta again Tuesday night. I’m addicted, but I have to admit the nearby presence of Morelli’s Ice Cream reinforces my compulsion. You get a 20-percent discount after 6 p.m. Tuesdays, if you dance for nine seconds. I wish I’d had my camera to record what people will do for a 20-percent discount. I remained in control of myself but Wayne danced at least 27 seconds, expecting a 60-percent reduction. …

Grant Central has perfected its puttanesca sauce, available as an occasional special. Yay!

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