Hot Dish Review

OK, it was not from my garden or even my parents’ garden, but it grew somewhere in the US, presumably in a garden. Publix had this packaged okra, vibrant and fresh. I grew up eating okra, in gumbo or fried….love it!

My parents are growing okra too, in addition to zucchini, tomatoes, green beans, squash, and cucumbers. Mom has already canned her first batch of beans which we had with grilled pork tenderloin, onions, zucchini, and peppers in Helen, along with a salad of cous cous, edamame, and black olives. Healthy and delicious!

Like the fried green tomatoes, this is my first attempt at frying okra. Mom usually makes and freezes several bags for me but today I decided to cook up a mess of it myself!

Talk about easy! Here is the method: wash the okra, cut into pieces 3/8″-1/2″, toss with cornmeal, season with a little salt and pepper and panfry over medium heat in about 2 tbsp. canola oil for 20-25 minutes, until tender and browned.

I made a big batch so I froze half of it. So good!

On a recent Sunday, LC and I were on our way to my rental property near Turner Field when I suddenly remembered the Braves were playing a day game, so we diverted off the Boulevard exit and went to Six Feet Under instead. Nothing like a few cold beers to chill out a sweltering Summer day!

It was my first visit to the seafood restaurant with views of downtown Atlanta and famous Oakland Cemetery from their rooftop deck. Does the name refer to the depth of the water where the fish are caught or is it a not-so-subtle reference to the graves across the street? Perhaps a bit of both.

Despite the heat, LC and I chose to sit at the bar on the deck. It felt a little like being at the beach. We ordered a couple of beers and an appetizer called spicy rat toes….three baked jalapenos stuffed with shrimp then wrapped with bacon, plus one habanero (extra spicy rat toe, sold individually for $2.25). My mouth was on fire, cooled off by the Blue Moon draft with a slice of orange….a refreshing twist as well as a clever marketing gimmick.

We followed that up with a cup of seafood gumbo, a spicy roux filled with oysters, shrimp, sausage, and rice, topped with cheese and scallions. Cornmeal crusted okra halves (awesome!) and a subtley sweet cornbread fritter accompanied the gumbo, making it one of the best renditions of this classic I’ve tasted in years.

LC ordered a couple of juicy sliders with a side of killer coleslaw (yes, that is what it’s called on the menu and was also his assessment of it). Having visited with a business associate a few months back, LC recommended I try one of their blackened shrimp tacos, filled with fresh spinach, mixed cheeses, cucumbers, sweet onion relish, and fried leeks, with salsa verde on the side. Intriguing. I ordered one a la carte sans the cucumbers. Six Feet Under doesn’t use corn tortillas so I was stuck with the flour variety. When it arrived, an abundance of shrimp sat upon a bed of vibrant greens, completely covering the tortilla. My first bite revealed a bright freshness that one rarely finds. The kind of tortilla was irrelevant. Not authentic Mexican, but I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the intention. Their list of creative American tacos include fried calamari and grilled catfish, both of which are probably kickass.

In addition to spicy appetizers and tasty tacos, the restaurant has a large selection of steamed or fried seafood and over fifteen sides to choose from, including that awesome fried okra. I shall return!

437 Memorial Drive SE 404-523-6664

OK, so my cousin RW was not lost, exactly. But it’s been twenty-some long years since we’ve laid eyes on each other. He’s an Airforce guy, living in Japan for ten years where he met his beautiful wife. Now they live in Hawaii.

On his rare visits to the mainland over the years, I have always been out of town or otherwise unavailable, so when he emailed me a couple of weeks ago about his upcoming trip, I was intent on seeing him.

With a 6:50am arrival time, then plans to rent a car and drive to Helen, it was definitely a challenge. Since I live close to the airport, the best option was to meet there for breakfast. So I set my alarm for an ungodly hour, jumped in my car and headed to Hartsfield. Upon arrival, he texted me his location at Atlanta Bread Company in the airport’s atrium. I made my way through the security lines, spotting him clear across the way, which I believe I would have been able to do even without the benefit of the video he sent of himself eating stinky tofu in Taiwan.

We ordered bacon, egg, and cheddar sandwiches, mine on a croissant and his on a sunflower seed bagel. And I added to my caffeine intake for the morning with a large vanilla nut coffee.

It was so great to laugh and reminisce, I hardly noticed how greasy my sandwich was, likely due to the butter in the croissant. And unfortunately, wrapping a croissant in foil softens the delicate, crispy crust. With that said, I love fatty breakfast sandwiches. We polished ‘em off, then asked a chick at a nearby table to take our picture.

I hope we have the opportunity to visit again before another twenty years go by….perhaps in Hawaii.

For tweens in the Virginia Highlands, Yogli Mogli is the equivalent of a trendy bar. Groups of them, some as young as eight, hang out in front of the store and squeal with delight when their parents show up with their wallets. The older kids awkwardly stare at the opposite sex as they spend their dog-sitting money on cake batter flavored yogurt with chocolate sprinkles and gummie worms.

Little T loves frozen yogurt, especially the stores where you can create your own concoction from a dozen or more self-serve flavors and an array of fun toppings. The containers are pretty big allowing for multiple flavors in one serving….a recipe for disaster (and possibly a tummy ache).

After a light dinner at Diesel, Little T, LC, and I stopped by the YM down the street for dessert, each of us mixing and matching flavors and toppings. I usually go for cappuccino and French vanilla, dropping in a lone gummie worm at the bottom per the franchise owner’s recommendation (Why you ask? Try it!). Chocolate chips, chopped nuts, and a few marshmallows scattered on top add just the right textural excitement.

Little T discovered a Cool-Whip canister in a wine chiller near the register. Unfortunately, we had already paid, but I’ve made a mental note for my next visit. I’m not sure exactly what she chose, but her creation is the colorful one….with gummie worms.

1002 N. Highland Avenue 404-347-3100

The drive back from Alabama was uneventful, conveniently ending in my neighborhood right at dinner time. Little T wanted Yogli Mogli for dinner (not a terrible idea) but LC and I thought it might be prudent to have it for dessert. So we stopped by an old favorite, Diesel, for a bite.

I tend to forget that Diesel is a smoky bar, full of tattooed dudes and chicks with multiple body piercings since we always sit on the patio. Its rock ‘n’ roll vibe doesn’t quite fit into the preppy persona of the Virginia Highlands. We ordered a couple of Miller Lites and watched a zombie movie marathon on the flat screen TV.

Little T ordered the house salad while LC and I decided to split the special, pork tenderloin stuffed with a mixture of dried apricots and walnuts, then wrapped in bacon and smoked in their Big Green Egg. irresistible! We chose corn on the cob and jicama coleslaw as our sides.

At first I was disappointed with the pork. The stuffing was beige with no discernable flavor. However, LC pointed out that the meat was very tender. A bright cranberry liquid was spooned on top giving a dish a somewhat “bloody” appearance (maybe it was a side effect of the zombie’s munching on each other’s limbs) and lending a tangy sweetness to the dish. We enjoyed the crunchy slaw but the corn lacked the spicy seasoning promised on the menu. And butter.

Considering where we were, I decided it was a passable dinner. Next up, Yogli Mogli!

870 N. Highland Avenue 404-815-1820

When friends or relatives visit from out of state, it is the host’s duty to show them a good time, from visiting the city’s attractions to choosing the perfect restaurants. This can be challenging since time is usually short. Prime example….LC’s cousin from Austin flew in for five days with his girlfriend and two young sons. After several days of fun-filled activities including the aquarium and Stone Mountain park, his cousin was ready for an adult night out. As the family foodie, I wanted to come up with a place that would be fun with great food too. I immediately thought of Barcelona, Atlanta’s hottest tapas restaurant and wine bar in Inman Park.

LC’s sister and her husband joined us as we arrived in style, drinking cava in a Chrysler stretch (that’s what happens when your guy’s family owns a transportation company). Initially, our group considered dining on the patio, but it began to drizzle, so we took a table inside.

Sangria sounded refreshing and is an easy transition from cava, so we ordered a caraf of white and another called flora, which the menu described as full of fruit. I confirmed with our server that it did indeed have chunks of fruit in each glass. However, when it arrived, the liquid was practically clear, made with rose’ instead of red wine…and not a piece of fruit in sight. Extremely watered down, this was the worst sangria I have ever had. Compared to the fantastic, spicy red sangria with chunks of fruit at CineBistro (yes, CineBistro!), Barcelona’s was a surprising failure from a wine bar. I expressed my displeasure and ordered a glass of cava.

We initially chose ten tapas to share plus a couple of medium plates. First arrivals: crunchy calamari and crisy cabbage drizzled with honey and topped with crumbled feta cheese. Hanger steak, grouper ceviche and mussels followed, the fresh, zingy ceviche earning a double reorder. LC and I were rather fond of the cabbage.

Two orders of my favorite dish from my birthday visit, luscious chorizo with sweet and sour figs, arrived next along with a vibrant looking gaspacho. A bowl of mussels were devoured but I only had one…too much tomato for my taste. Having worked our way through much of the tapas menu, we moved on to the scallops and lamb chops, both tasty but the lamb chops were certainly on the rare side. A stray watermelon salad finally showed up.

In true tapas style, we simply kept ordering until I stopped the madness with two orders of churros, long strips of dough piped into a deep fryer and served with hot chocolate dipping sauce. Despite being fried they are light at air. Everyone enjoyed our dinner experience, even the usually cranky RT.

After our meal we took a ride down the street to Blind Willie’s for some live blues and a couple of ill-advised shots (that’s what happens when your guy’s family owns a transportation company).

240 N. Highland Avenue 404-589-1010

Backyard Burger is yet another fast casual burger concept that may be coming our way. We stumbled upon it on our way back from Alabama last weekend. The space is arranged like a Wendy’s with counter service. Much like Smashburger, they have a few popular combos, but most folks build their own sandwich starting with a choice of Angus beef, turkey, or chicken breast, then add cheese and toppings, which is then delivered to your table piping hot.

Sticking with our turkey burger routine, LC and I both ordered one with bacon, cheese, guacamole, and mayo, completely eliminating the health benefits of the lower fat meat. I also added some harmless lettuce, tomatoes, and sauteed onions. Little T was craving a chicken sandwich with bacon and got her wish, then promptly removed the bacon.

My burger was a mess, especially with half the bun tossed aside, making it difficult to distinguish juiciness from sloppiness. All of our sandwiches had great grilled flavor with quality toppings. Little T and LC got combos with sweet potato fries that I gladly shared. Only a few dollars more than other fast food chains, Backyard Burger was a great alternative.

Our weekend trip to Smith Lake in Alabama was relaxing. There was no TV or computer at the lakehouse, a bare-bones trailer perched atop a hill overlooking one of the cleanest lakes in the U.S. Normally, this would cause me some angst but I honestly didn’t even notice until it was brought to my attention.

After a night on comfy foam cots, and a day of floating and boating, we drove back into town where our hosts have a lovely house with a pool. We stopped by a Mexican restaurant called Lupe’ on the way. LC and I started with their lime margaritas with Patron, an $2 upgrade to the regular $7.99 price. Our little Mexican server promised they contained no sour mix. When he brought them out they were enormous! Not only that, but very strong and made with fresh lime juice.

We ordered cheese dip and guacamole to start, delivered swiftly with thin hot tortilla chips. The cheese dip was very watery and it was questioned whether or not the guacamole was pre-packaged or made in-house, but I forgave those minor inadequacies after a few sips of my colossal margarita.

I had an unusual craving for enchiladas oozing with cheese. After disecting the lengthy menu, I found they made enchiladas suiza, three for only $6.49. Stuffed with chicken and topped with salsa verde and a smattering of cheese, they simply weren’t as cheesy as I had envisioned. The rice and beans filled the plate, but not my belly.

LC and I also ordered a variety of tacos in corn tortillas, gringo style with cheese. My steak taco was very tasty, topped with lettuce, tomato, and guacamole. LC also requested their hottest sauce, the kind they would serve to their relatives. It was chili-based, and with the pickled jalapenos, added the spice that is often lacking in Mexican restaurants this side of the border.

A couple of orders of fajitas were enough for everyone else at the table to share, with extra to take home. So, if you find yourself hankerin’ for Mexican in Cullman, Alabama, head to Lupe’!

There we were, driving through the woods in Alabama looking for LC’s friends’ place on Smith Lake. It’s the kind of area with poorly marked, winding county roads. LC has a fantastic sense of direction, instinctively getting us wherever we are going with little effort. But this destination required a search party to come find us.

When we finally arrived, we both needed a shot of tequila! Our hosts, another couple from Nashville, and me and LC hung out while all the kids played in the lake. They had stocked up on groceries for an awesome grilled dinner including a pork tenderloin and yellow squash. But first, the Nashvilles prepared an appetizer that blew our socks off.

While I enjoyed my second Corona with lime, they were cutting banana peppers in half and stuffing them with cream cheese. Then, each half was wrapped with a piece of bacon, skewered, and put on the grill.

Our host JM grilled them low and slow, allowing the bacon to get crispy without charring the delicate peppers inside. I took a bite, expecting the mild flavor of banana peppers, but the damn things were spicy as hell, tempered only slightly by the mellow cream cheese. I probably ate a dozen of ‘em….crazy good!

Try these the next time you grill out to really spice things up!

First of all, let me tell you how I feel about buffets. Once, I was the lucky winner of a Carnival cruise to the Bahamas. Sounds great, right?

Not so much. I dreaded the seven days on this floating Walmart with breakfast and lunch buffets, all contaminated with the germs from thousands of obese hillbillies. I was standing in the buffet line on the third day when one of them sneezed in my ear. I held my breath, then grabbed a ladel to scoop up some flavorless luke-warm scrambled eggs.

The next day I was standing in a torrential downpour in St. Martin and realized I was getting sick. Very sick. The following days were pure misery. When I told my Mom of my misfortune she literally asked “How did you get sick?”, as if I could pinpoint the moment I was infected. So I said “I touched a filthy ladel at the buffet, then rubbed my eye”. Ridiculous, but it could be true.

So buffets make me a bit squeamish. That’s why I was not excited to hear that breakfast at Lake Lanier Resort was buffet style. A group of us had spent the day before on the family houseboat, and LC, myself, and another couple stayed in one of their secluded lake cabins, equipped with a full kitchen, hot tub (which we did not use), and creaky wood frame beds behind paper thin doors (LC and I were oblivious to this, but were informed by the couple staying with us).

Once, I had an amazing breakfast buffet at The Peninsula Hotel in Chicago, so I was hoping (but not expecting) this buffet would be comparable. We met another couple in the dining room off the resort’s lobby. White tablecloths and an omelette and waffle station elevated this buffet above the cruise ship variety. Coffee all around started us off, then we each made our way to the long table of silver chafing dishes. I wasn’t impressed with the omelette fillings, opting instead for the standard scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and fruit. I dropped a half sesame bagel in the toaster on my way, but someone snagged it before I returned, so I promptly toasted another. All edible, but not remarkable.

There were no croissants or English muffins, no lox for the bagels, no grapefruit or fresh squeezed orange juice, no eggs benedict with hollandaise. There was a noticable absence of creme fraiche or macerated figs. And no mimosas!

But of course there were grits, potatoes, biscuits, gravy, yogurt, and cereal….everything you’d expect at a Southern breakfast buffet. I saved my berries for my extra crispy Belgian waffle I had for dessert.

7000 Lanier Islands Parkway, Buford 800-677-5304