Omnivore Atlanta

MILLER UNION: The restaurant's décor keeps it simple

It’s a grand game of incest and intrigue, the restaurant biz. Chefs, managers and servers follow one another from restaurant to restaurant. The gossip may get nasty and the knives may end up in back after back, but at the end of a Saturday night, everyone’s just one big happy family.

It was something of a shock when I walked through the door of the new Miller Union (999 Brady Ave., 678-733-8550) and found myself face-to-face with Neal McCarthy, longtime manager of Sotto Sotto under Riccardo Ullio. I knew my cover was blown instantly and, in case I had any doubt, chef Steven Satterfield, a longtime chef for Scott Peacock at Watershed, came out to our table to say hey later. The two have opened this restaurant, named after the old Miller Union Stock Yards, in Atlanta’s Westside.

There was no back-stabbing in this encounter. Both men have received the best on-the-job educations they could get in Atlanta. But I was chagrinned at how difficult the game of critical anonymity has become in our city. Critics -  and I don’t know one who isn’t recognized frequently – have become part of the incestuous game. At least I had not met McCarthy’s amazingly beautiful (and towering) wife Carolyn before.

The new restaurant – organic, local, sustainable when possible – reflects Satterfield’s nine years with Peacock. The menu of straightforward dishes is heavy on the Southern accent, but subtly so. There’s “griddled” poulet rouge on the menu but no fried chicken.

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(Photo by James Camp)

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BURGER CLUB: The Artery Annihilator is an 8-ounce Angus patty on two Krispy Kreme doughnuts

It arrived like any other hamburger of its type, crowding the plate, oozing melted cheddar cheese from which lengths of crispy bacon jutted. Above all, it glowed with the nostalgia of every American kid’s favorite meal. The economy has tanked, the plutocrats bid the lawmakers to let us eat cake, the teabaggers exhort us literally to vote against our own interests. The world has gone mad, but we’ve still got hamburgers.

Sort of. I took a closer look, as did those sitting at nearby tables in the bar of the new Burger Club (4300 Paces Ferry Road, Vinings, 678-888-9036). There was a barely discernible gasp. A woman’s hand flew to her chest. “Yeah,” I said, “it’s the ‘Artery Annihilator.’”

The 8-ounce Angus patty’s bun wasn’t a bun at all – it was two Krispy Kreme doughnuts. As my gaze took in the concoction, childhood nostalgia melted – like the sugar glaze on the doughnuts, the globes of fat in the burger, the crystallized fat in the bacon and the drooping fat of the cheese – into an adult’s vision of slow suicide. Why wasn’t it served with Lipitor and beta-blockers?

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(Photo by James Camp)

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THREE'S COMPANY: The shrimp, carne asada and fish tacos at Pure Taqueria

Isn’t assimilation a wonderful thing? America wouldn’t be America if we didn’t invite immigrants to jump into our melting pot (unless they happen to look like terrorists, have really dark skin, or expect to do anything but pick our lettuce).

More than half a million Hispanics have settled in Georgia. The state’s Hispanic population increased more than 200 percent between 1980 and 2000 – the third-largest increase in the nation. The 2010 census is likely to report the same kind of growth.

I mention this because a large percentage of the Hispanic population here is Mexican and that poses a perennial question to me: Why is so much Mexican food in our city repulsively malo? I’m not talking about the mami-y-papi taquerias on Buford Highway that cater mainly to Mexicans. I’m talking about the restaurants that attract mainly gringos. Why, no matter the ethnicity of their owners and cooks, do they almost all serve bad Tex-Mex border cuisine?

Continue Reading “First Look: Pure Taqueria and El Toro”

(Photo by James Camp)

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AMUSE: The charred octopus with seaweed

Certain restaurants evoke sweet memories. One is Anis in Buckhead. I lunched there every Friday for years with friends and still often do. Another evocative one no longer exists — at least not in its original form. I’m referring to Café Diem, which was replaced by Après Diem.

Café Diem was a favorite for light French food and an evening of listening to poetry back in the early ’90s. Created by Andy Alibaksh, it was the city’s most boho setting, and it seems that people enjoyed working there as much as hanging out there. There’s even a Facebook page titled “I worked at Café Diem Atlanta, GA, and still remember some of it.”

Among those who worked there was Arnaud Michel, who went on to open the aforementioned Anis (and several other restaurants) with business partners. Now, he has teamed up with Alibaksh, to open Amuse (560 Dutch Valley Road, 404-888-1890), an Anis-style bistro in the space vacated by Allegro.

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(Photo by James Camp)

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LUPE TAQUERIA: The trio of guacamole

This is a cautionary tale about first impressions and foodies. The protagonist is Riccardo Ullio’s new Lupe Taqueria (905 Juniper St., 678-904-4584). The antagonist is the foodie community, including its bloggers and critics like me.

I long ago learned that a first impression of a new restaurant – the usual subject of this column – is not reliable if the visit turns out to feature extremes.  In such a case, particularly when the extreme is negative, I usually go back, hoping for better. Contrary to popular opinion, most critics don’t enjoy thoroughly panning a restaurant, which is typically a huge investment and provides a livelihood for its staff.

On the other hand, I think the effect any one critic has on a restaurant is short-lived. Of course, if the critic does pan a restaurant that ends up failing, he gets the blame. Typically, though, the restaurateur has not heeded any of the criticism directed his way.

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(Photo by James Camp)

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LUNCH WITH FRIENDS: Bocado's dining room

Bocado (887 Howell Mill Road, 404-815-1399) is the latest restaurant to open on the city’s Westside. Its location — across from Octane, at the corner of Howell Mill Road and Marietta Street — is the first evidence of the way the restaurant typifies a significant shift in the city’s restaurant community. The Westside is booming — at least compared to more expensive real estate in the city. Lower rent and smaller spaces are essential to most restaurants’ survival in this economy.

And that’s also produced a shift in restaurant appearance. Bocado’s design is by ai3, the people whose first project was the (defunct) Globe, my favorite interior in recent years. They’ve also designed 4th & Swift, Holeman & Finch and the particularly wonderful Flip.

Rather than the theatrical, large spaces that typify the Johnson Studio designs (Aria, Two Urban Licks), for example, ai3’s are spare in utilization of uncluttered open space, but the firm also employs natural (and recycled) materials that conversely add an intimate glow, especially after sunset. Communal tables also seem to be part of ai3’s play with space.

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(Photo by James Camp)

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COMBO PLATTER: Royal South Indian thali at Udipi Cafe

Some restaurants get better with time. Some get worse. I’m looking at one of each this week and we’ll start with the one that’s gotten worse.

Udipi Cafe(1707 Church St., Decatur, 404-296-6771) moved a few months ago from its original location on Lawrenceville Highway across the street to the shopping center that houses mainly Indian businesses.

The first shock here is the appearance of the place. The original was a rather picturesque spot – a bit gloomy – with quirky architectural details. This new location is completely undecorated unless you count a color scheme that would never occur in nature. I’m talking orange – OK, maybe saffron – with bright red in equal portions. Even the booths are red. There’s one of those glass waterfall things out front, but not a bit more decoration.

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(Photo by James Camp)

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HAMMING IT UP: The jamón Ibérico at the Iberian Pig

I’ve spent a lot of time in Spain, mainly in Sevilla. My favorite restaurant there is Casa Salva, a hole-in-the-wall near the Museo de Bellas Artes. It’s been a few years since I visited, but it was open only 1-6 p.m. and the menu was mainly a list of specials that changed daily.

The Spanish love of ham becomes clear as soon as you gaze through restaurant windows anywhere in Spain and see hams festooning the ceilings. But it was at Casa Salva that I began to see the true dimensions of that love. The owner often came to my table and — no joke — recited the pedigree of the ham he was featuring that day. He told me where the pig was raised, on which side of a certain mountain, what it ate and how the ham had been cured.

So, it’s no surprise that I was excited to visit the Iberian Pig (121 Sycamore St., 404-371-8800) in Decatur. It takes its name from the famous black Iberian pig that is the source of arguably Spain’s finest ham. The restaurant has been opened by Federico and Stephanie Castellucci, the husband-wife team who also own the three popular Sugo restaurants that specialize in mainly Italian and Greek food. The restaurant’s managing partner and chef is Chad Crete.

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(Photo by James Camp)

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THE DAILY GRIND: The Apache burger at Grindhouse Killer Burgers

The adult renaissance of the hamburger isn’t difficult to explain. Nothing (besides maybe pizza) comes close to fulfilling an aging population’s insatiable appetite for nostalgia. And God knows baby boomers are nothing if not nostalgic.

Then, too, there’s the recession. (I’m referring to the little depression that we keep reading is over.) Hamburgers are typically inexpensive, which is why McDonald’s is prospering in a wretched economy. Still, it’s a bit mysterious that if you scan the average menu of a full-service restaurant, the burger will usually cost less than dishes that have cheaper ingredients and require less time to prepare. I suppose the burger has simply retained its rep as cheap, no matter the quality of the contents.

The latest in the absolute epidemic of burger joints to open here is Grindhouse Killer Burgers (209 Edgewood Ave., 404-522-3444) at Sweet Auburn Curb Market.

Continue reading “Grazing: First Look: Grindhouse Killer Burgers and Wonderful World of Burgers”

(Photo by Joeff Davis)

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I recently re-read Satyricon, often regarded as the western world’s first novel, written by Petronius, a member of the court of Nero, toward the end of the 1st century CE. The longest chapter of the satirical book is a description of a banquet hosted by Trimalchio, a freed slave who has become immensely wealthy.

Although Petronius’ motives are controversial, it’s impossible to read the banquet description without thinking of  life in our own culture during the last few years. Generally, the banquet satirizes the excesses of the nouveau riche. Eerily, like dining trends in our own time, Trimalchio is interested in changing the form of food, dressing up offal and turning dining into theater. He’s even into local food – it’s all from his own estates – and he psychologizes dining by pairing his guests with dishes appropriate to their astrological sign.

It is a measure of our time that we observe most of these same phenomena and, with rare exception, regard them only as completely positive, undeserving of even mild critical scrutiny. But I’m taking my cue from Petronius for citing some of the most dubious dining trends of late.

Continue reading Grazing: The Satyricon and modern dining.

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DRINK UP!: The dining room at Prickly Pear Taqueria

It was Sunday night at the Prickly Pear Taqueria (950 W. Peachtree St., 404-881-8887) in Midtown Plaza. The restaurant, which opened in June, was packed and there’s little doubt that its 100-plus varieties of tequila had a lot to do with turning out a crowd.

We were sitting at a small table outside. Our server seemed pretty frazzled by the crowd but when I ordered my entrée, chicken mole, he grew suddenly focused and took a step closer. “Don’t order that,” he said.

“Why not?” I asked.

“It’s not authentic. The chicken is not cooked in the mole. They just pour the mole over roasted chicken,” he said.

I thanked him for the heads up. Needless to say, the warning did little to calm my suspicions that I was about to eat the usual neo-Tex-Mex-Southwestern food whose flavors depend on downing a couple of large margaritas. I worried more when the server suggested I order one of the wood-fired “Southwestern pizzas.” I followed his advice, choosing the pollo al carbon — one featuring grilled chicken.

Continue reading “Grazing: Searching for flavor at the Prickly Pear Taqueria”

(Photo by James Camp)

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STEP UP TO THE PLATE: The scallops entree at Urban pL8

Remember when the only destination on the Westside was the Atlanta Humane Society? It was something of a shock when Bacchanalia moved there from its cottage on Piedmont a decade ago. Then Taqueria del Sol followed, and now the area is prime real estate for restaurants that cater to the downtown lunch crowd and the inhabitants of a zillion condos that stretch from 10th Street to downtown.

One of the latest to open is Urban pL8 (1082 Huff Road, 404-367-0312). Apparently, its location attracts restaurants with strange names. The first tenant there was Pangaea, a popular café serving sandwiches from around the world. I’m not exactly sure why Urban pL8 has chosen this abbreviation of the word “plate,” but I am aware that it’s spelled differently all over the place, sometimes using a capital ‘P” and lowercase “l.” Oh, well. As long as Top Flr or TOP FLR or Top Floor exists in Midtown, Urban pL8 is safe from having the most confusing name.

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(Photo by James Camp)

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ATMOSPHERIC: The rack of lamb at Atmosphere

“Have you seen Julie & Julia?” our server asked us as we took our seat at Atmosphere (1620 Piedmont Ave., 678-702-1620).

We explained that we had seen the film about Julia Child the day before and that it was, in fact, our inspiration to dine there. Atmosphere has consistently ranked among the best French restaurants in our city.

“You’re not alone,” the server, Andrew, replied. He explained that business had been booming since the film opened. I looked around the dining room and noted to Wayne that it wasn’t exactly a young crowd. It was more like … our age.

Like most Baby Boomers, I grew up with a mother who watched Julia Child’s cooking program on public TV. Michael Pollan recently argued in a New York Times magazine essay that Child, unlike TV’s current celebrity chefs, distinguished herself by actually teaching people how to cook. The Food Network’s chefs, Pollan wrote, mainly serve as performers. They cater to people’s love of eating, whereas Child catered to what Pollan identifies as the natural but disappearing love of cooking itself.

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(Photo by James Camp)

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Bon Appétit has named Decatur’s Cakes and Ale one of 2009’s top 10 best new restaurants:

At the age of 27, Billy Allin gave up his job as a money manager and enrolled in culinary school. After graduation, his cooking skills landed him gigs at renowned restaurants, including Chez Panisse in Berkeley and Watershed in Decatur. With his farm-to-table cooking philosophy fully established, Allin and his wife, Kristin, decided it was time to open “the restaurant where we would want to eat,” he says.

That restaurant is Cakes & Ale (from a phrase in Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night meaning “the good things in life”), located east of downtown Atlanta. The couple’s ideal restaurant turns out to be a 50-seat neighborhood spot where the kitchen staff often answers the phone when you call to make a reservation, and a chalkboard announces the daily menu, which features simple, precise dishes like braised rabbit grits with saba vinegar and spring onion; buttermilk-rhubarb fool; and the addictive arancine here.

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OPA!: A selection of dishes at Mykonos Taverna

It’s not often that a flock of 20 or so geese greets you outside an Atlanta restaurant, but that was our experience in the parking lot of Mykonos Taverna (2901 Clairmont Road, 404-638-6770) last week.

The geese seemed completely unfazed by our presence. In fact, one quickly waddled toward the car, hoping for a taste of spanakopita. My guess is that they actually live at the office park adjoining Sam’s Club, behind which Mykonos is located.

This restaurant has been opened by the same people who operate Mykonos Grill on Cobb Parkway. As the hostess showed us to a table inside the garishly neon-lit restaurant, she issued an apology. “Have you been waiting months for us to open like everyone else?” she asked. “I apologize.”

Well, frankly, no. I haven’t been waiting. The truth is that of all the world’s cuisines, Greek food is my least favorite. Oh, I love Kyma, because it’s all about whole wood-grilled fish. But I have no taste for the super-garlicky, often excessively oily casserole dishes. Once upon a time, Evelyn’s Café made some of these palatable to me, but that restaurant closed years ago.

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(Photo by James Camp)

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VEGGIE TALES: The vegetable plate at Atkins Park

It wasn’t that long ago in the urban South that you heard can openers whirring in the summer heat.  My assumption is that people became so accustomed to the convenience and taste of canned vegetables, they weren’t really attracted to garden-grown produce.

When fresh produce did show up on urban tables, it usually came from the grocery store and was typically cooked beyond recognition — often to the degree that it was indistinguishable from canned food. I’m thinking about green beans in particular. Yellow summer squash was boiled and mashed with butter and bacon fat. Tomatoes, thanks to the miracle of hydroponic greenhouses, were mealy and flavorless year round. It was not until I was in my 20s, living in Elberton, that I tasted a garden-grown tomato.

Happily, restaurants have turned local produce into a virtual fad during the last few years. One of those is Atkins Park Restaurant (794 N. Highland Ave., 404-876-7249), well-known as the longest continually licensed bar in the city. The chef is Andrew Smith, who earlier worked for Scott Peacock of Watershed and Shaun Doty of Shaun’s.

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(Photo by James Camp)

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DEVIL IN THE DETAILS: The bar area at Rí Rá Irish Pub

Remember when Vickery’s was the only restaurant on Crescent Avenue in Midtown? It was considered an edgy location — the kind of place that magnetized urban hipsters, resplendent in black and redolent of cannabis. It was a great scene. Later, South City Kitchen opened on Crescent and attracted a more serious foodie crowd.

Now, more than 25 years since Vickery’s opened, the street has become the backside of the explosive high-rise development along Peachtree Street that real estate people call the Midtown Mile. It starts with the mixed use 1010 Midtown building, whose rear is home to three restaurants: Noon, RA Sushi and Rí Rá Irish Pub (1080 Peachtree St., 404-477-1700).

Rí Rá  is catty-corner to the new Joia (1100 Crescent Ave., 404-537-5000), which occupies one of the older buildings on Vickery’s side of the street. It has been opened by Marco Betti, owner of Antica Posta in Buckhead. Rí Rá is part of a large national chain. The two restaurants are, naturally, vastly different.

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(Photo by James Camp)

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ANOTHER DAY ANOTHER PIZZA: The margherita at Max's Coal Oven Pizzeria

As soon as we walked through the door at Max’s Coal Oven Pizzeria (300 Marietta St., 404-974-2941), several staff members shouted “Hi, guys! Welcome!”

I’m not sure if it was my response — looking around to see who they were yelling at — or their own discomfort with apparently being trained to impersonate Moe’s employees, but the bubbly enthusiasm quickly diminished. I was relieved. Contrived effervescence makes me hostile.

Max’s is yet another project of the gigantic Concentrics Restaurants group. In fact, it’s located next to Stats, the company’s sports bar. Wayne, being a statistical analyst, prefers to call it “the flagship of Atlanta’s burgeoning statistics community.” It’s located in a turn-of-the-last-century building with lots of brick and warehouse ambiance. It was doing quite a brisk business when we visited on a Sunday night, especially with large family groups.

Our server, John H., let us know that the restaurant features Georgia’s first coal-burning pizza oven. This actually is kind of a big deal. Coal ovens are popular in New York City where many regard them as essential since they reach a temperature of 1,000 degrees. John explained that the super-hot oven produces the blistery, charred crust that pizza aficionados crave. Or perhaps not everyone craves that. “I like to warn people that the crust is going to be kind of black,” John said.

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(Photo by James Camp)

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TOAST OF THE TOWN: Chicken liver on toast at Rosebud

Rosebud (1397 N. Highland Ave., 404-347-9747) is the new name of Food 101 in Morningside. Executive chef Ron Eyester bought out the co-owners recently and rechristened the restaurant. The name derives from one of the guitars played by Jerry Garcia of the Grateful Dead.

Ordinarily, any reference to the Grateful Dead is immediately alienating to me. I used to write an annual column in which I invited people to send me their tie-dyed clothing to destroy in a ritual bonfire. I usually got far more angry e-mails than clothing.

There is nothing very Deadhead about Eyester’s restaurant. A few cosmetic changes, including fresh paint and refinished tables, have been made, but the effect remains elegantly cozy, a feeling that is reinforced by an unusually good staff of friendly servers who can talk articulately about the menu. Lizzie is server of the week.

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(Photo by James Camp)

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“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” our server yelled. She had just dumped a glass of water on our table and it was trickling into my lap to produce that unmistakable look of adult incontinence.

“Don’t worry about it,” Wayne said as about five men attacked our table with their rags.

“She told me she was going to do that,” one of them said.

We laughed. Ha ha. The server was still pleading for forgiveness. We told her not to worry. Mistakes happen. “We are amused.” I asked for some tonic water. She left to fetch it.

We were seated on the patio of the new RA Sushi (1080 Peachtree St., 404-267-0114). Open about three weeks, the restaurant already seems to be something of a hit. The vibe is youthful, the look is Disney-meets-Vegas-in-Tokyo. This is part of a chain out of Arizona and it seems to be quite popular in all nine states where it’s opened.

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(Photo by James Camp)

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The latest entry in the city’s pizza war is Nonna Mia (980 Piedmont Ave., 404-532-2815), a Sicilian-inspired café that’s part of a new chain out of New Orleans.

The restaurant has taken over the space last occupied by Sweet Devil Moon and many others before that. In the 1970s, when I lived a few blocks from there, it was the original location of Proof of the Pudding, now a huge catering company, which at the time also served unique sandwiches and salads.

In my recollection, the longest-lived restaurant here after Proof moved was the Big Red Tomato, a New York-style Italian café with an entertaining vibe and fairly good food. Nobody has succeeded with the location since.

I might as well say at the outset that the pizza here simply does not measure up to the standard prevailing in the city now, thanks to Varasano’s and Fritti. We ordered one of the signature pies, the Siciliana, which is topped with roasted red peppers, prosciutto, kalamata olives, mozzarella and tomato sauce. Sounds great, eh?

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(Photo by James Camp)

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BIRDS OF A FEATHER: Vegetable crunch sandwich with chicken

The recession poses particular problems for the restaurant trade. Before it arrived, many of us were eating dinner out several times a week. At the same time, we’d become sensitive to the health effects of what we eat and come to appreciate a “green” perspective in a restaurant’s management.

The problem, as anyone who’s seen McDonald’s sales figures knows, is that eating healthy and worrying about the environmental impact of a restaurant’s takeout containers is a lot easier when you’ve got plenty of disposable income. It isn’t lack of willpower that so often makes poor people obese. The simple fact is that the unhealthier food is, as a general rule, the more affordable it is.

So it’s no surprise that we’re seeing a sudden spurt of fast-food restaurants offering healthier choices. These restaurants frequently offer vegetarian alternatives, along with the chemical-free meat of humanely raised animals. They also operate as green businesses, mindful of their effect on the environment.

Continue reading “Grazing: Evos and Sprouts Green Café”

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NEW 'CUE: The combo plate at D.B.A. Barbecue

Let’s go ahead. Let’s commit foodie suicide, Southern-style. Let’s express opinions about barbecue, the stuff that provokes more manly passions than guns and breasts. And let’s talk about effete intown barbecue!

Everyone knows that the once-popular Dusty’s on Briarcliff Road has closed. When it opened, 27 years ago, it was a complete novelty in Atlanta because it served ‘cue in the style of eastern North Carolina. That means the sauce was untainted by ketchup, featuring mainly vinegar and varying degrees of hot pepper. Since I spent a good bit of my childhood in Charlotte, I loved the place.

But I quit going to Dusty’s when its flavors made a decided turn toward the sweeter Georgia-style. I wasn’t alone in my observation and complaints about this, and I’m not sure if the restaurant ever returned to its roots.

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Remember the ‘70s? Probably not, but if you were dining out then, you remember the revolution in Atlanta’s restaurant scene, courtesy of the Pleasant Peasant. Owners Steve Nygren and Dick Dailey opened the restaurant on Peachtree in Midtown in 1973. It featured creative cooking, an informal atmosphere and theatrical waiters who flashed blackboard menus in your face and recited the menu.

The following year, Nygren and Dailey were joined by Bob Amick (whose father gave his name to Mick’s, the Peasant Group’s retro diners). Eventually, the Peasant Group spawned 40-odd restaurants that were sold in 1989. The chain was so pervasive that both John Kessler and Meridith Ford Goldman, food writers at the AJC, worked for it during their respective restaurant careers.

Continue reading the Grazing on 30 Tables.

(Photo by James Camp)

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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)

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