Omnivore Atlanta

A few weeks ago, I had lunch with my friend John Kessler, a food writer for the AJC. As we pulled up to the restaurant, I could see him getting more and more excited, although I knew it wasn’t about the meal we were about to eat. Once we were settled at the table, he brandished the subject of his elation - a whipped cream canister. “Bring us a plate!” he instructed the waitress. He proceeded to squirt a pile of garish, orange whipped stuff onto the plate in the middle of the table, giggling manically all the while. “Try it,” he demanded.

I took a bite - it was sweet, creamy and … wait … full of booze! It was both the most disgusting and most perversely awesome thing ever — flavored, alcoholic whipped cream. Not just alcoholic, but like, 36 proof, grain alcohol-based orange flavored nastiness. My mind reeled. My eyes watered.

The possibilities were endless.

John gave me a couple of cans, but swore me to secrecy until his story about the whipahol came out, which it did today. Read it and weep tears of joy and disgust. I carried the whipahol around in my purse for a few days, forcing it on any innocent bystander who was close enough. I was the life of the party. I think I also scared some people. I haven’t really been using it at home for whipped cocktails or the like, but it sure is a funny thing to randomly pull out of your purse.

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Our 2008 Food Issue hit the streets today. When conceiving of this year’s food issue, I struggled with whether to do another piece on local eating. I covered the same topic in my 2006 food issue, although from a very different angle. When I arrived in Atlanta in 2006, it seemed that the city was way behind in terms of its awareness of the local eating movement, so I covered the chefs who were at the forefront of bringing awareness to their customers. This year, I wanted to cover local producers - the folks living in Georgia who make local eating possible. So I decided to frame the issue around a week of totally local eating. And it was heartening to find out that even I, who has been thinking about this topic for years, had some things to learn about what we have to offer here in Georgia.

So, while the local eating theme has been visible for a couple of years now, I decided that it was still important enough to cover in a new way. That the issue coincided with the final stretch of this election cycle was a coincidence, but it turns out that the election is spurring others to talk about local food as well. If you haven’t already, you really should check out Michael Pollan’s open letter to the next president, which appeared in the October 9th New York Times Magazine Food Issue. You can also listen to Terry Gross’ Fresh Air interview with Pollan, which aired on Monday. I find the most interesting part of the interview to be where Pollan addresses whether or not the local food movement is an inherently elitist movement, driven by wealthy foodies. Of course, there is that aspect to it, but Pollan makes a convincing argument for how and why we need to move beyond that perception.

Even if you did see CL’s food issue in the paper, make sure to check out the online version, which has tons of extras: a guide to local food resources, recipes from local chefs, and a photo gallery of Mike Buckner milling local flour at his home in Junction City.

(Photo by Joeff Davis)

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This press release just in from Shmaltz Brewing Company:

Shmaltz Brewing Company, handcrafters for well over a decade of HE’BREW - The Chosen Beer, will host a tasting event this Friday, October 17 at Taco Mac (240 W Ponce De Leon Avenue, 6 pm, 404-378-4140, cash bar) featuring the fifth incarnation of their award-winning “extreme” Chanukah seasonal, JEWBELATION: their 12th Chosen Beer in 12 years of Shmaltz.  Coincidence?  Destiny!!  Rising to 12% alc, Jewbelation Twelve is brewed with 12 malts and 12 hops bringing a nearly miraculous warming glow to store shelves nationwide from October 2008 through March 2009. Come join Shmaltz representative Darren Quinlan as he pours Jewbelation Twelve as well as their new Messiah on Rye, HE’BREW’s rich and complex nut brown ale Messiah Bold aged in rye-whiskey barrels.

On Saturday, October 18 at The Great Decatur Beer Festival (On the square in downtown Decatur, GA, Noon - 5 pm, $35, Sold Out, http://decaturbeerfestival.com ), Darren Quinlan will also feature select attractions from Shmaltz’s new line of sideshow-inspired Coney Island Craft Lagers(TM) including their flagship Coney Island Lager(TM) (5.5% alc), Albino Python(TM) (White Lager w/ Spices, 6% alc) and Sword Swallower(TM) (Steel Hop Lager, 6.8% alc). HE’BREW’s Origin Pomegranate Strong Ale, Bittersweet Lenny’s RIPA (Lenny Bruce tribute beer) and Messiah Bold will be available for tasting as well.

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In the midst of our city’s Southern restaurant boom, let us pause to admire one of the cuisine’s staples, a dish that’s been elevated from down-home comfort food to high-end food magazine cover model: the grit. Versatile, appropriate for any time of day, and able to put a Southern pedigree on a dish in a single bound, grits are the superhero of New Southern cooking.

At Dogwood, they’ve been given their own menu section. The “grits bar” offers a plate of warm grits with a choice of one of three toppings, which have ranged from fried oysters to butter-poached lobster to ham and pimento cheese. The toppings vary in extravagance, but they aren’t the stars of this show. The grits are rich with corn flavor, and their coarse, substantial texture delivers maximum impact to the surface area of your taste buds. Take a bow, grits; encore, encore.

Dogwood sits across from Emory Crawford Long Hospital in the Reynolds condominium building. The few blocks of Peachtree Avenue between North Avenue and the Connector exist in a locational paradox. The city has tried to brand the area SoNo, although I’ve never heard anyone call it that. It’s not really Midtown, but it doesn’t fit neatly into downtown, either. So a restaurant here must tread a carefully plotted path to appeal to both the tourists and conventioneers staying in downtown hotels, and the finicky trend followers who make or break Midtown restaurants. Whether by lucky accident or by design, Dogwood looks poised to pull off both. The striking decor, soft-jazz ambiance, fancy plating compositions and eager service will no doubt please the expense-account set and out-of-towners. But chef Shane Touhy’s thoughtful flavor profiles and attention to quality ingredients should put Dogwood squarely on the radar of Atlanta foodies as well.

Read the rest of this article here.

(Photo by James Camp)

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I got this from the New York Times dining blog.

There’s a million obvious jokes to make here, but having been a waiter for years and still having a huge amount of respect for service professionals, I’m going to refrain and let this speak for itself. Check out these Japanese monkey waiters.

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Back in March, I declared that Dynamic Dish was a canary in the coal mine for Edgewood Avenue, and to see that restaurant thrive boded well for the street in general. Today, Dynamic Dish is still alive and well, and a slew of other new restaurants have sprouted, or are about to sprout up, along the moderately bedraggled avenue. I’m tempted, this time, to resist expounding upon fast-track gentrification’s numerous dichotomies. But with Noni’s Bar and Deli, the elegant scene inside clashes so entirely with the somewhat depressing and somewhat endearing street life outside, I’d be doing a disservice by refusing to mention it.

Yes, Edgewood Avenue is changing. And no, it has not changed that much. You may be asked for money by a woman with her wig askew, and the handsome young men who frequent the barber shop a few doors down may be lounging on your car by the time you come to retrieve it. But stepping into Noni’s is like stepping through a portal into another … well, not another world, but certainly another part of town.

Read more.

(Photo by James Camp)

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Over the past three years, I have become so disgusted by Fox’s “Hell’s Kitchen” that I gave up watching it at least three seasons ago. I don’t mind Gordon Ramsay’s incessant screaming at contestants, or his foul mouth, or his disdain for  his customers and viewers (I thought it was hysterical, at the end of one season, when, after a kind-of sincere monologue about how happy he was about the winner he turned to the camera and said, “Now you can all go fuck yourselves.”) What bothers me is the casting. I hate that the show deliberately casts contestants who are not up to the task, who can’t cook, and who’s main purpose is to entertain us with their abject humiliation. I feel that as a viewer, my intelligence and genuine interest in food and cooking is being insulted. Also it’s boring.

So, with that said, you wanna be on “Hell’s Kitchen”?? Here’s the press release:

FOX’s HELL’S KITCHEN is looking for top-notch Chefs, 21 and over, who are passionate about cooking and skilled at their craft.
Can YOU stand the heat?
OPEN CALL:   October 10th, 2008
10:00am - 3:00pm
The Artistry
942 Peachtree St. NE
Atlanta, GA 30309
For more information go to www.fox.com/hellskitchen
Call: 424.216.2880 // HK hotline 866.226.2226
Email: LCastmaster@gmail.com

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Meredith Ford Goldman, the AJC’s dining critic, has named Tierra as the paper’s restaurant of the year. It’s a great choice — I’ve long considered Tierra to be one of our city’s great, under appreciated restaurants. Perhaps now they’ll get the crowds they deserve. Read the AJC story here.

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Rathbun’s 2009 cooking classes were announced this morning - you can take a look at the lineup here. Last year, 75% of these classes sold out in the first 3 days and the rest sold out over the following few weeks.

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Learning kimchee, by trial and error

By Gene Lee

Kimchi… People either love or hate it. If you were born into it like I was, 99.99% of the time you love it. Koreans, especially older ones, are so fanatically addicted to this dish that they are probably the only race group that will immediately go looking for a Korean restaurant in their first hours on vacation in Rome. I am not kidding.

I am not quite as obsessed as the older generation but understand this craving. Over a decade ago I lived in Aspen, CO, which is hundreds of miles away from Denver - the closest city that I knew of (at the time) that had Korean restaurants. One month into being fortified in that little Hollywood ski town, the cravings for the hot Korean stews, various Banchan (small side dishes) vegetables, steaming bowl of rice and the addictive sour crunchiness of Baechu (cabbage) kimchi started scratching at my salivary glands. I could make the barbeque meats, substandard versions of the soups, and steam the Mahatma white rice that you see in every grocery store in America, but I could not make nor find kimchi anywhere.

Three months into my stay there my cravings for better Korean food, and especially the tangy and fiery flavors of kimchi, reached a fever pitch. That was that. I set out for Denver alone on a Saturday morning with a few scribbled restaurant listings from the cities’ Yellow Pages (the internet and wi-fi foothold really was not common in households at that time). When I got there, I found myself in a part of town akin to Atlanta’s Buford Highway. One long road with all sorts of ethnic eateries, peppered with a few Korean restaurants here and there. It even had the same sort of run-down look to it.

Needless to say, I got my fill that day and then some. Imagine if you’ve been lost in the desert for 3 days without food and water and you cross over a sand hill, and lo and behold there’s a Denny’s. Gorging ensued.

Even though I am closer to places that sell it pre-made in abundance, something always gnawed at me to be able to execute this recipe. Empty store-bought kimchi jars were overflowing in my condo reused as dry food storage, kitchen utensil holders or makeshift grease traps. And I was tired of having to drive 20-30 minutes out of my way on a bi-monthly basis just to buy it (even though it sure beats the 4 hour drive I had to make in Colorado).

Presently, I have made feeble to whole-hearted attempts at making my own version of Baechu kimchi. I have referenced multiple online and print recipes and sought advice from ex-pats and family friends all over. I was met with disaster in my first attempt, and miscalculated disappointments in later efforts. Eleven attempts, multiple hours, and a skinnier wallet later, I have finally made a batch that I personally deem worthy to eat. My recipe has been a hybrid of all written and verbal research that I have collected over the years combined with a sense of “trial and error” intuition that none of the online or cookbook recipes ever conveyed.

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After a spring and summer that seemed like one long stampede of high-end restaurant openings, it’s nice to remember that Atlanta’s true culinary treasures are often well-hidden and underexposed. If you’re in need of an antidote (as I often am) to the expensive meals found in the gleaming towers along Peachtree, check out Falafel Café, hidden behind a Waffle House on Cobb Parkway in Marietta.

Falafel Café’s endurance is a hotbed of contradictions. The impossible-to-locate location is only the beginning. What was once a campus take-out joint mainly patronized by Life University students is now a family restaurant serving hearty Persian cuisine. That change took place years ago, when current owner Reza Gharaat took over. But still, the restaurant was reminiscent of a poorly lit, slightly grubby dining hall.

That space still exists, but two years ago, Gharaat expanded, adding a swanky dining room with brocade-covered chairs, chandeliers and a large TV that inexplicably plays a constant rotation of fashion shows and random red-carpet moments. The newer space is hardly slick, and looks as though its main purpose is to hold wedding receptions, but it’s a nice upgrade from the drab room adjacent to the kitchen.

Read more here. 

(Photo by James Camp)

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A few weeks back, Scott Freeman wrote about the troubles 5 Seasons was having with the Sembler company at their Prado location. It appears the legal part of the disagreement is over — here’s the official statement:

“Five Seasons, Prado, and The Sembler Company are pleased to announce that all disputes between them have been amicably resolved on terms that the parties have agreed to keep confidential. Five Seasons is open for business, and there is ample and convenient parking available. The redevelopment of the Prado is near completion. The parties look forward to many years of working together to provide the public with an outstanding shopping and dining experience in Sandy Springs. Five Seasons, Prado and the Sembler are very excited about the New Prado. Come see for yourself”

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I loved David Foster Wallace’s writing, and was dismayed to hear of his death last week. His foray into food writing is probably the best thing I have ever read in Gourmet magazine - imagine getting an assignment to cover a lobster festival and writing a tortured treatise on the morality of eating. Check it out here.

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The emergence of upscale Southern cooking in Atlanta has been one of the city’s most welcome trends. Finally, the food of the region we’re in is the food we’re celebrating.

As with any trend, there are downsides to ubiquity. In cooking, the term “organic” should refer to more than just the exclusion of chemicals in growing practices. Atlanta’s best Southern cooks came to the style organically – this was the food they grew up eating, the food they love, the food of their heritages. The Scott Peacocks and Linton Hopkins of this world didn’t decide to use Southern ingredients and cook Southern dishes because they saw it as the next big thing. They did it because when they let their souls speak through cooking, their souls spoke with a Southern accent.

The Feed Store in College Park has had a Southern theme since it opened in 2003. Nothing could seem more organic – the building has a truly Southern history (as an actual feed store owned by the current proprietor’s grandmother) and resides on College Park’s classically Southern Main Street. Its decor is pleasing but slightly schizophrenic – part original exposed brick, part geometric wonderland that resembles an ’80s outfit. Over the years, the restaurant has employed many chefs, including Top Flr’s Mike Schorn, and has had a wildly uneven reputation depending on who was running the kitchen. Since June of 2007, chef Peter Golaszewski has been at the helm, and the response has been overwhelmingly positive.

Read the rest of this article here.

(Photo by James Camp)

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I just came across this, an excerpt from a longer blog post by Russ Marshalek, who recently wrote a post for us on ketchup. I thought it was an interesting point of view about the direction of Southern food and food writing:

This desire/thought of putting things from my head and my past onto paper or into a file to be saved has its’ very, very recent origins in a few places, but I can really point to one. I recently wrote a very, very short piece for Atlanta news and entertainment weekly Creative Loafing condensing my history with Ketchup. This, I thought, placed me firmly amongst those southerners who connect weird food concepts, ideas and issues with a very specific place and time (because, really, the American South has more food identity-as-history than anywhere else, and I will argue and fight this ‘til the last breath). This, I thought, made me a southern food writer.

Insert pounds and hours of laughter here.

No, seriously, don’t worry: if I had more than a momentary aspiration of being a Southern Food Writer (also all with capital letters), I had it taken away very recently.

Last weekend, I was privy to a panel on Southern Food Writing starring (yes, starring, as though ‘twas Southern Food: The Film) legendary, acclaimed etc etc John T. Edge and his Cornbread Nation alumnus of hot-as-hell-right-now poet guy Kevin Young, oh-yeah-that-guy-who-will-be-selling-Coke-soon-he’s-so-damn-famous Roy Blount, JR. and Candice Dyer. The sheer and utter seriousness with which they all took themselves, and this idea that Southern Food needs capital letters and utter silent reverence as though there was a church of it somewhere made me feel completely at odds. At odds with them, at odds with grits and cornbread, at odds with my birthplace. How many of them, I wondered, grew up in a trailer park? I was suddenly so struck with a feeling of inferiority that I didn’t dare tell Candice, whose essay “Scattered, Smothered, Covered and Chunked: Fifty Years of the Waffle House” appears in the newest volume of Cornbread Nation, that I had recently won third place in the “write a short essay about your waffle house memories” contest and was formally honored and recognized by Waffle House, Inc. That matters not compared to having the John T. Edge bump.

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Restaurant openings are notoriously uncertain timing-wise, in part because so many licenses have to be granted. But getting a liquor license is often one of the last hurdles before opening day. These places have just been granted liquor licenses, which may mean they will open any minute (unless their contractor screws up, or one of the myriad other hold-ups occur ):

Aja, Tom Catherall’s Asian spot in the old Emeril’s location.

The Porter, a Little Five Points “gastropub” in the old Grandma Luke’s location.

The Bureau at 327 Edgewood Avenue.

The Bookhouse Pub at 736 Ponce de Leon.

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You may have already heard, but Richard Blais has resigned as chef at Home. You can read the full AJC story here. As I made quite clear in my review of Home, I never thought Blais’ talent was properly showcased there.

Last week I got a new reason to get excited for whatever comes next for Blais. A friend took me to Eno’s foie gras dinner on Thursday - six courses of foie prepared by six Atlanta chefs. It was an interesting night and I feel as though I’m still recovering. I haven’t wanted to eat much since then - each course on its own would probably have been wonderful, but six courses was a bit much.

The one course that stood out was prepared by Richard Blais, and it made me terribly nostalgic for Element and Blais totally unrestrained. It was classic Blais - very lightly poached lobster tail over sweet corn puree with maple foam, pickled lichee, and shaved foie (it had been frozen and grated, and looked like the shaved chocolate on top of a black forest cake). The flavors together were so bizarre and disorienting and ultimately delicious. The lichee made the dish, despite being the weirdest thing on the plate.

As of this post, Blais’ only definite project is Flip, the gourmet burger joint. But I’