Omnivore Atlanta

This just in from the PR folks:

On Friday, May 15, Restaurateur Joe McCarthy will open his new seasonally-inspired restaurant, called WaterHaven, within Midtown Atlanta’s Technology Square. Serving lunch and dinner Monday through Saturday, with lunch service beginning on May 18, WaterHaven offers a welcoming retreat from the hustle and bustle of Atlanta’s urban activity.
Executive Chef Chris Lee’s menu features contemporary American fare that highlights local farms and purveyors. Focusing on two to three components per dish, Lee lets his local ingredients shine for sustainable and Southern-inspired meals.
WaterHaven’s décor, created by Marc Moscript, features mustard and olive green hues and a warm, cozy ambience. The restaurant offers 150 seats indoors and an additional 80 on the patio, as well as a semi-private room that seats up to 65 people and features a transparent wine wall separating it from the main dining room. A large stone water feature is the focal point of WaterHaven’s bar area, which also contains a long zinc bar for guests to gather while sipping and snacking.

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Heard from Jennifer Zyman that Noon, the highly anticipated (at least amongst rabid foodies) gourmet sandwich shop finally opened today. She will be covering it in an upcoming Cheap Eats column.

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PUBLIC HOUSE: Most taverns have that worn in feel from years of drunken revelry, but Marlow’s Tavern — a chain with locations all over metro Atlanta — aims for spruced up décor with a laid back vibe. Contemporary touches such as clusters of black-and-white photos in glossy black frames, modern light fixtures, and discretely placed plasma televisions create a posh feel. Sleek, however, doesn’t equal cold here. Cozy dark wood booths and brick walls add the kind of warmth that begs you to linger. Plus, the staff is friendly and attentive.

LIBATIONS: Beers — ubiquitous brands, regional microbrews and imports — abound. Since this is a tavern, the wine selection is small and middling. But the long list of signature and classic cocktails, including a Dirty Vodka Martini made with Level vodka available in “filthy,” is the thing to order here. Look for the seasonal hot drink menu (made with and without alcohol), with choices such as Marlow’s Nip — Caribou coffee spiked with brandy, Kahlua and chocolate liquor.

RAISING THE BAR: The menu holds many familiar pub grub dishes with a slightly upscale twist. Some entrees verge on too creative, so stick with the basics. Filling starters such as crunchy kettle chips topped with blue cheese, scallions, bacon and tomatoes are perfect for sharing with friends. Burgers are always a safe bet, as are a side of hand-cut fries, also available as a starter topped with truffle oil and Parmesan.

Marlow’s Tavern, 950 W. Peachtree St., Suite 215. 404-815-0323. Sun.-Wed., 11:30 a.m.-midnight; Thurs.-Sat., 11:30 a.m.- 2 a.m. www.marlowstavern.com.

(Photo courtesy Marlow’s Tavern)

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MEMORY LANE: Thanks to a recent renovation, the previously dingy digs of the 49-year-old Midtown institution are welcoming once again with plenty of deliciously tacky old-school charm to go around. Each of the 32 state-of-the-art lanes has an assigned table for congregating; an Atari-esque kiosk with various service call buttons; and a mounted TV monitor — complete with those wonderfully cheesy animated bowling shorts — that tallies and boasts which player is the current “Kingpin.”

GUTTER BOMBS: Basic and obscenely cheap items such as hot dogs, burgers, hand-battered wings, fried fish baskets and funnel cakes abound on the large menu. But there’s something simply irresistible about the “Big Nasty,” a sinfully messy and greasy heap of French fries, tater tots and homemade potato chips topped with chili, nacho cheese and pickled jalapeños. Check out the lunch special Mon.-Thurs., 11 a.m.-2 p.m., which includes lane rental, those bitchin’ shoes, your pick from a handful of menu items and a fountain drink for $11.75.

BEER FRAME: This bowling alley doesn’t play around when it comes to booze. The fully stocked bar has an impressive list of more than 84 beers from all over the world, wines, an extensive selection of liquors, and shot specials to warm up your arm and give you the courage to bust out that impression of Jesus from The Big Lebowski. They even sell towels to shine your ball if you’ve forgotten your prop at home.

Midtown Bowl, 1936 Piedmont Circle. 404-874-5703. Daily, 9 a.m.-3 a.m. www.midtownbowl.com.

(Photo by Jennifer Zyman)

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FRATERNAL FUN: “Real World” fans should remember Ace Amerson from the Paris season. The cast member was always throwing parties for his flatmates, which was fitting since he owned a bar back home in Statesboro, Georgia. Amerson recently moved to Atlanta, and (with the help of some buddies) opened Flip Flops in Midtown. The turquoise house contains a dizzying hodgepodge of colorful island decorations including bamboo walls, palm trees and fake grass. The upper deck opens later in the evening with a DJ for dancing, and the guys are working on a menu of classic bar food.

IN A DAIQUIRI DAZE: Don’t come here expecting high-falutin’ cocktails. You’re at the beach, remember? The centerpiece of the bar is a row of neon daiquiri and margarita machines spinning everything from your basic margarita to a concoction made with sweet tea vodka. If a brain-freeze is unappealing, a Patron margarita on the rocks only sets you back $6 and there is plenty of Kentucky Gentleman Bourbon.

SOUTHERN GENTS: The bartenders may seem like your average dudes slinging shots, but don’t be deceived. They’re easy on the eyes and have the uncanny knack of inserting themselves into your conversation at just the right moment. It’s easy to throw the hangout into the “aging frat boy” category, but the place actually has heart. Their mascot, an insanely adorable Golden Retriever, is a nice touch too.

Flip Flops, 1140 Crescent Avenue. 678-705-8555. Wed.-Fri., 5p.m.-2a.m.; Sat., 11a.m.-3a.m. www.myspace.com/flipflopsatl.

(Photo courtesy Flip Flops)

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Wanna buy a restaurant? The folks over at AroundMidtown.com found this ad on Craigslist for Midtown Southern restaurant Sweet Lowdown, which could be yours for three-quarters of a million bucks! Sadly, the restaurant has closed in the meantime. Late 2006 brought us a bunch of places that focused on Southern cooking, including SAGA and Sweet Lowdown, both of which are now closed. JCT Kitchen is still going strong, and I hope the movement doesn’t die.

You can read my review of Sweet Lowdown here. I should note that chef Carmen Cappello left the restaurant long before it closed.

(Photo by James Camp)

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Loca Luna has left its home on Juniper Street and reopened at 550 Amsterdam Ave., in the huge space vacated by the Red Chair. The place is festive. You get your nightly dose of live salsa music. You get your tasty tapas and, if you decide to get full, you get a hefty bill. You also get friendly servers (ask for Brittany, “not Britney!”).

If Edgewood Corner Tavern practices pinwheel aesthetics, Loca Luna excels at lollipop design. My favorite tapa we sampled was the beet lollipops (pictured above). Each juicy rectangle was topped with goat cheese and some microgreens, skewered on a stick. I also liked the lamb lollipops meatballs, similarly presented.

I’ll have more to say in this week’s Grazing column, but if you go before reading that, be sure to try the pistachio flan.

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We paid a visit to Cameli’s Gourmet Pizza Joint at Ford Factory Square (699 Ponce de Leon Ave., 404-249-9020) a few nights ago and found the place much changed. The restaurant has at least doubled in size. It’s added a bar and a cozy lounge area, as well as more tables.

The food was as good as ever. I had pesto-sauced eggplant ravioli, and Wayne ordered a huge pizza with too much stuff on it. Cameli’s crusts are thin and handmade. I’m especially fond of the sun-dried tomato sauce.

We still miss the Cameli’s in East Atlanta Village, which featured a more diverse menu.

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We went to see I’m Not There, the Bob Dylan (sort-of) biopic by Todd Haynes Saturday night, and we ducked into Apres Diem afterward for a light dinner. This in itself was an accomplishment. On Thanksgiving, we went to see No Country for Old Men, with the plan of hitting a Chinese restaurant on Buford Highway afterward to honor the Pilgrims. The violence of the film so nauseated me, I couldn’t think about eating. The Coen Brothers ruined my Thanksgiving!

I still enjoy Apres Diem, but I’m tired of suckering myself into ordering the Salade Nicoise (above). I know the restaurant thinks it’s doing us all a favor by using a chunk of tuna instead of the canned stuff. Despite the server’s insistence that the tuna is ahi-grade, I once again found the stuff repulsively stringy and tasteless. Could it have been … frozen?

I’ve complained about this about 50 times, and I’m obviously in a minority. But I’ll take the salad made with high-quality canned tuna any day, as it’s always been made at Anis, for one example.

I love everything else about Apres Diem, from the ambiance and the hottest servers in the city to the pastas and entree specials. But as God is my witness, I’ll never eat the Salade Nicoise again.

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It’s been about a year since the Silver Grill on Monroe Drive closed after nearly 60 years of operation. Now, to nearly everyone’s shock, the meat-and-three favorite has reopened as the Silver Midtown Grill. The new owners are Stephan Barrani and Sam Scott.

The reopening is as confusing as it is welcome. The official story a year ago was that the restaurant was closing because it had lost its lease and needed significant improvements to meet health and sanitation codes. “Not so,” a reliable source told me. “They didn’t lose their lease and I’m not even sure they had to do extensive repairs to stay open.” Nonetheless, the new owners did find they had to make extensive improvements, even though they’d been told otherwise.

The restaurant was packed today at lunchtime. I used to eat there frequently in the ’80s but hadn’t been a regular for many years. I asked several diners if they found the food similar to the original owners’ cooking. Everyone had the same reply: “It’s identical. They rehired the old chef.” That would be John Fendell. They also rehired manager Vivian Wynn and cook Peggy Mack.

But the most notable rehire is server Peggy Hubbard (above), 74, whose famous eyebrows and motherly character have endeared her to diners for almost 50 years. She is especially famous for her open-hearted treatment of men with AIDS early in the epidemic when many others treated them like lepers.

The space has been repainted and new tables have been installed. The bar, where I ate, has been replaced with fancy, shiny material. Unfortunately, it doesn’t provide sufficient legroom, forcing you to assume the “wide stance” of toilet toe-tapper Larry Craig.

I had the famous fried chicken breast, green beans, mac-n-cheese and peach cobbler. The chicken was as good as ever, the green beans were appropriately overcooked and the mac-n-cheese was a bit runny. The peach cobbler, served room temperature, was as teeth-tinglingly sweet as I remembered it.

There were many happy faces at the restaurant today. It’s great to have them back.

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Wanna know which musicians are playing anywhere in Atlanta? Visit Marco’s Pita (752 Ponce de Leon Ave., 404-607-0071). As the photo above illustrates, the cafe’s main decor is countless fliers about musical events. They paper the walls and windows and cover up tables. Look. There’s Creative Loafing basking in the glow of a roll of paper towels!

The Mediterranean-style food, unfortunately, needs improvement. Hummus and baba ghanouj were fine, but the falafel wrap I ordered was drier than sawdust. It’s too bad, because the preparation was unusual, featuring a piquant tahini sauce and weird little pickles.

Among the acts coming to Atlanta is Barry Manilow, according to one postcard-sized flier there. Ain’t that da bomb? I write the songs, the songs Lola sings, her name was Lola, at the Copa, the Copacabana.

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I’m sure I’m the last foodie in Atlanta to make it to Trois (1180 Peachtree St., 404-815-3337). It’s one of those cases where everybody else reviewed it so thoroughly and positively that I kept putting off going. But I finally made it there for lunch Monday with my friend Jeff.

There’s no doubt about it: The restaurant deserves description as one of the city’s best. It’s not often that I rave about a salad, but this watercress salad (top photo) was amazing, made with roasted piquillos and socca (little rectangles of fried chickpea flour you find everywhere in Provence), served with a light, herbal dressing. Like much good food, it immediately set me to daydreaming, remembering my aunt, who used to grow watercress on the banks of the stream that ran through her yard outside Philadelphia. Yep, we used to eat little watercress sandwiches on white bread with the crust removed — just like Mr. Drysdale’s wife on the “Beverly Hillbillies.”

Jeff had French onion soup and, for an entree, perfect roasted chicken (left). My own entree was beef bourguignon — small chunks of beef with bacon and noodles (above right). The diet plate. Not. I couldn’t eat but half of it, since I was determined to have dessert — cheesecake sorbet with mango chutney, pineapple gelee and coconut crumble (above left). Jeff had a lemon tart with a blueberry creme fraiche sorbet.

I could hardly move after eating so much. It ain’t cheap, about $57 for two with no alcohol. Of course, you don’t have to eat three courses in the middle of the day. The menu here changes daily, by the way.

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Mary Mac’s, the Atlanta institution famous for its Southern atmosphere and Southern food, has undergone a face-lift. The restaurant has added an expanded bar and redecorated the lobby and all five of its dining rooms, repainting in historic colors and adding carpet from the 1940s.

Look out for more changes this fall when Mary Mac’s starts to serve brunch on the weekends.

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We hit Buddha on Sunday night. This new restaurant is in the 100 Midtown Building (100 10th St., 404-874-5158). The name is creating some confusion. Its menu calls it “Chinese Buddha” but the press materials all call it simply “Buddha.”

We found the food much better than the average intown Chinese restaurant catering to American tastes. There’s a lengthy menu of vegetarian choices, including lots of faux meat dishes. I couldn’t face that, but did try some superb vegetarian dumplings.

The restaurant also serves some Thai and Malaysian specialties and, besides the vegetarian choices, these are the only unusual dishes on the menu. We both selected Malaysian entrees — baked squid for Wayne and softshell crab for me.

The place is quite a looker. There’s a window on the kitchen that turns everything in view red — a cinematic touch.

More in a forthcoming issue of the paper.

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The boutique restaurant lives! We visited Top Floor (674 Myrtle St., 404-685-3110) last week and had one of the best, most affordable meals we’ve had in quite some time.

The restaurant, located across from the Mary Mac’s parking lot and behind Papi’s, replaces DaVinci’s and is bound to produce long waits because a) the food is killer and b) the space is tiny. In fact, the restaurant derives its name from the necessity of climbing a staircase to get to the main dining room. There are a couple tables downstairs where the bar is located. Fortunately, the restaurant takes reservations and if you’re disabled or don’t want a lengthy wait, call ahead.

I’ll have plenty to say about the food in next week’s paper. Pictured here is a duck confit pizza that puts Piebar to shame and a simple plate of asparagus with cherry tomatoes. The dessert menu is especially unusual. It’s all chocolate and it’s all addictive.

By the way, the restaurant’s sign says “Top Flr,” as does the menu, but they can’t really mean for us to try to pronounce that, can they?

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Little annoys a dining critic as much as being called a “food snob.” Usually, this appellation is compounded with adjectives like “pretentious” and “arrogant.” The usual employers of this terminology are the owners of restaurants that receive negative reviews.

A few years ago, I was introduced to someone who immediately blurted, “Oh, you’re the pretentious asshole who gave my restaurant a bad review.”

“As it happens,” I said, “I just filed a positive update on your restaurant.”

“Well, I’m glad you developed some taste,” he replied.

“And I’m glad you got a new chef,” I said.

Snobbery is not the only danger, in my opinion. A perhaps more insidious danger is reverse-snobbery, by which critics and foodies become excessively enamored of the mediocre, as if to prove that they are just regular folks with regular but somewhat adventurous palates. A recent example was the Wall Street Journal’s report that Ann’s Snack Bar serves the best burger in America. I love Ann’s myself and have given her our Best of Atlanta award several times. And I’m happy to see Miss Ann collect buckets of cash from customers waiting an hour to eat in her tiny, inexpensive cafe.

That the Journal gave the award to Miss Ann’s “ghetto burger” but actually described a different burger makes me think a bit of reverse snobbery was at play. Eating at Miss Ann’s is very much about the working-class experience as much as the burger itself. The phrase “quintessentially American” echoes inside the head with every bite.

I find myself similarly seduced — almost. I love the fried chicken at Popeyes, but I certainly wouldn’t call it the best in the city. Similarly, I love the Pot ‘n’ Pan (1865 Piedmont Ave., 404-874-0340) for breakfast on weekend mornings, but I wouldn’t call it the best breakfast in town.

I always get the same thing there: two eggs scrambled with feta cheese, bacon, grits and a biscuit. It’s yummy, but there’s no question that a large part of the appeal is the crowd. Midtown boys who have been out all night mingle with young marrieds, drag queens, professional types, blue-collar workers, ad infinitum. Indeed, the staff itself is largely Asian. It’s so, you know, democratic.

We pride ourselves on being a classless society, so many of us reflexively detest anything that smacks of elitism and we constantly look for something “real” or “authentic.” Forrest Gump, a dumbed-down philistine with banal tastes, would be the ideal chef in the culture of reverse-snobbery.

But the banal isn’t more “real” than the extraordinary. It’s just safer. Indeed, its vaunted preservation reinforces class differences rather than transgressing them.

I’m not taking a stand here for a particular perspective, but I do think it’s helpful for us to examine what animates taste. Reverse-snobbery is no more laudable, no less classist, than snobbery itself.

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Has Wolfgang Puck ever eaten at the Atlanta Wolfgang Puck Express (1745 Peachtree St., 404-815-1500)? No? Good for him. I’m sure he has better taste.

I had business in the Brookwood Station area Friday and decided, reluctantly, to grab a salad there — a Caesar with chicken. Look closely at the picture and you can see the cheese with the texture of talcum powder. You cannot see the revolting pool of dressing at the bottom of the bowl. You can see the chicken but you can’t savor its rubbery, dried texture and almost complete absence of flavor.

I really don’t get it. I used to eat well in an Express in Los Angeles pretty frequently and have been to most of Puck’s big-name restaurants in that city. And Puck has not lost his touch at all, apparently. His newest, Red Seven, opened just a few weeks ago in West Hollywood’s Pacific Design Center and the early reports are mainly positive.

The best seats at the Atlanta Express are at the bar, which fronts the completely open kitchen. The staff seems to have a good time and the service is good. But the food does not live up to Puck’s motto, “Live, Love, Eat!” Let’s change that to “Live, Love, Eat Elsewhere!”

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