Hot Dish Review

German food is not the most popular world cuisine. Personally, I love it….but I was born in Frankfurt. For those of us in Atlanta, it’s a quick drive to the faux Bavarian village of Helen in north Georgia for an occassional schnitzel fix. During Oktoberfest, we often visit to celebrate with men in lederhosen (and men with mullets in tight acid-washed denim shorts), drink mugs of German beer, and eat the inevitable bratwurst.

But there is an alternative smack in the middle of Marietta Street in downtown Atlanta called Der Biergarten. Their patio upstairs is reminiscent of Helen’s Festhalle, with picnic table seating and festive lights strung about. Inside, the walls are painted with murals depicting idyllic scenes of castles and forests…..very Brothers Grimm.

I met LC there recently, at the tail-end of a friend’s birthday party. It was late and I was starving. With plans to drive to Helen in a few days, I wasn’t too keen on having German food, but curiosity and hunger prevailed. Guests seated at the bar dined on generous plates of schweinebraten with spaetzle. Tempting, but I chose my standard bratwurst and knockwurst with sauerkraut and potato salad….no schnitzel.

But first, the bartender poured me a pint of Warsteiner draught. Wursts were delivered quickly along with a trio of mustards for dipping….smooth and creamy, somewhat grainy, and slightly sweet with whole mustard seeds. LC noted that none of them were spicy, to which I replied that Germans don’t do spicy. The sauerkraut had a nice vinegary twang. American potato salad was nothing special. Weiners are always wonderful.

A few days later at Old Heidelberg in Helen, LC and I ordered the wurst trio to share, along with some additional sides. Seated on the tiny balcony, we took in the sun and pollen while drinking more Warsteiner and checking out the bikers and their buxom babes eating funnel cakes.

In addition to a knockwurst and bratwurst was a long skinny bauernwurst, flavored with garlic and herbs. Of our sides, the anemic, crunchy kraut was a total contrast to the golden variety at Der Biergarten. Their red cabbage, which often suffers from too much sugar, nutmeg, and cloves, had no such issues on this visit. Spaetzle was greasy and toothsome, drizzled with a little gravy. Green beans provided the only color on our otherwise beige and brown plate.

Satisfied with our sodium and fat intake, we strolled through town, beyond the gift shops and cheesy bars, straight to my parents’ sofa for a brief snooze before heading back to the city.

300 Marietta Street NW 404-521-2728

Despite being less than five minutes from my condo, I hadn’t visited Park Tavern in over five years. There was a time when AD and I frequented the place, sitting by the fence that separates the restaurant from Piedmont Park, our bare feet in the sand, drinking cheap beer and chain smoking. Then we’d go across the way to The Highlander to play Nudie Mega Touch. If you don’t know, don’t ask.

Park Tavern was also the scene of a couple of Halloween parties that I can’t actually remember, but the photos are proof I was there….once as a pregnant majorette with pigtails, smoking a cigarette. Super classy.

The warm weather had LC and I hankerin’ for a relaxing afternoon on a patio. Tired of our regular Mexican patios he suggested Park Tavern….perfect for April Fools Day, I thought. The place was always full of ‘em.

A few things had changed over the years. Soft sand was replaced with big pebbles. An entire Asian section, including sushi, had been added to their otherwise standard bar food menu. Other things had not changed at all, like the crowd of young wannabees, trustafarians, and dogs. Yes, schnauzers, terriers, corgis, and great danes shared the sunny patio with us silly humans.

Our brief wait for a table gave us the opportunity to grab a drink at the bar inside. LC tried one of their specialty brews that the bartender swore tasted like Fruity Pebbles….and it did! I finally decided on a glass of bubbly. Just then, the hostess escorted us to our table, one of the hightops with cushy brown pleather barstools. At last we could take a deep breath and reeeelaaaax as we watched the sun set.

I couldn’t bear the thought of another plate of hot wings, onion rings, or crispy fried things, so we opted for the Asian side of the menu, starting with the Baja California roll and the Wagyu beef lettuce wraps. The roll, requested without cucumber, was packed with crab stick and avocado, then topped with more crab and avocado, drizzled with wasabi mayo and sprinkled with sesame seeds. We added a good dose of bright green wasabi that made our eyes water.

After polishing off my glass of prosecco I switched to nigori to compliment our Asian snacks on order. Nigori is cold unfiltered sake with a mild, milky, nutty flavor and a surprisingly high alcohol content.

Served with strangely bland kimchi and flacid, flavorless sauteed mushrooms, the strip of sinewy steak was doubtfully the pricey cut of Wagyu advertised. The cilantro mentioned (and quite likely the deciding factor in my wanting to order this appetizer) was nowhere to be found. Nonetheless, we wrapped the ingredients in the cups of butter lettuce. A great idea, but not well-executed.

Still feeling a twinge of hunger, LC and I decided on one final Asian appetizer, the tuna tacos. Now, you know I don’t even like tuna, but sometimes if it’s good quality and served rare (or raw), I’ll give it a go, like the fantastic tuna tartare chef Scott Serpas makes at his restaurant. I was apprehensive about it, sorta like ordering foie gras at Chili’s.

Imagine my surprise at the five little triangular tacos, crispy wontons filled with thick slices of seared tuna, avocado, lots of cilantro, radicchio slaw with a slightly sweet dressing, and wafer-thin slices of fresh, hot jalapenos. They were awesome! I could have eaten ten of them.

As the sky grew darker the patio became illuminated, alternating between green, blue, and red lights. My tiny sake cup was empty. I promised LC we would return on a lazy Summer day sometime soon for more people and dog watching. As for the ghosts, there were a few, but they turned out to be harmless.

500 10th Street NE 404-249-0001

On my recent trip to Cancun, I was just as excited about the tacos as I was about the sun and sand. Not the chain restaurant variety often passed off as authentic in the states, but real Mexican tacos!

Another recommendation by our hotel, Taco Grill was across the street at the open-air mall smack in the middle of the hotel zone. You have to question the authenticity of mall restaurants, particularly those catering to tourists. But with its sunny setting directly on the water, the quality of the food was almost secondary.

On our first visit we were in full vacation mode, ordering margaritas with salt at lunch, lazily munching on chips and a variety of salsas, including one made with avocados….too thin and too spicy to be guacamole. We loved it. LC ordered the taco special, a choice of four, while I tried two a la carte: carne asada and pork, all on corn tortillas. Like most gringos, we requested them with cheese.

Shredded lettuce and sliced tomatoes topped our tacos. Little ramekins of cilantro, jalapenos, and diced onion were served with them, along with the salsas and guacamole. The tortillas had decent corn flavor, although they were probably not made fresh at the restaurant. My pork and beef were unremarkable, as were LC’s fish and tiny shrimp, but topped with the spicy fixin’s they were better than most in the states.

On our last day in Cancun we had about an hour to grab a quick bite and decided to return to Taco Grill. We ordered the exact same thing but this time, the tacos came to the table utterly unadorned. We had forgotten to order the cheese and the kitchen apparently forgot the lettuce and tomatoes. They did pile the tortillas with tons of meat to which we added tons of the salsas. We sucked up our drinks, inhaled the tacos, then ran across the street to our awaiting taxi.

So I started thinking….here we are, eating tacos in Mexico, so aren’t they authentic by default? Yes they are. But sometimes authentic is not amazing, it’s just OK.

Atlanta is ethnically diverse, with expanding Asian and Latino populations, bringing with them authentic cuisines from Vietnam to Brazil. Yet, there are many countries and cultures that are still under-represented. Only a handful of Ethiopian restaurants are available for adventurous eaters in Atlanta and even fewer Moroccan restaurants featuring the unique dishes from that North African country.

Imperial Fez is a fine dining experience. Entering the dimly lit space in Buckhead feels like stepping into an exotic fantasy, with ornate tapestry fabrics decorating the walls, ceiling and cushions. Guests were seated on the low benches along the walls and in legless chairs just slightly elevated from the carpeted floor. Mosaic glass lanterns puncuated the draped fabric giving it the look of a sheik’s tent in the dessert.

Some Moroccan dishes are influenced by the nearby Mediterranean featuring black olives, cucumbers, preserved lemon, and chickpeas, while others combine unusual spices like cumin, cinnamon, ginger and garlic to create dishes that are both sweet and savory like the traditional b’stella. Imperial Fez serves it third in a five course feast, filling the pastry with ground Cornish hen and nuts, then blanketing it with powdered sugar.

Just like the belly dancers’ routines, the meal itself is carefully choreographed. Warm water is poured over your hands before bread and thick crackers called Fekkas are delivered, used to scoop up your first course, a sublime lentil soup. Guests are instructed to eat with their right hand, but forks are provided for those set in their American ways.

Perhaps it was the intense burgundy decor of the restaurant or the promise of rich and spicy flavors that made red wine seem like an appropriate drink selection. I chose the fruit sangria while LC surprisingly decided on the Moroccan red wine, which I fully intended to drink. This sangria, served without ice, was unlike any I have had before, with a distinctive cinnamon flavor, and a strong note of rum.

Once we had finished our soup, our server brought out a large square plate with a sampling of colorful Moroccan salads. Pickled carrots, pureed eggplant, and mashed chickpeas, were among our favorites, providing an excellent means by which to devour the remaining crispy fekkas. I was especially excited to try chef Rafih’s signature red harissa, an intensely hot chili sauce, which came out with the salads. A sweet dish made of julienned carrot, raisins, and pineapple was described as a palate cleanser to be eaten after the salads. I ate it hoping to extinguish my lips on fire!

At this point our hunger had disappeared, much like the intrigueingly sweet and savory b’stella that came out next. Chef and owner Rafih Benjelloun joined us briefly. I ordered another sangria as I polished off the rest of LC’s wine. We tried to stop nibbling on bread so we would have room for our entrees.

Intending to share our selections, I ordered the Cornish hen tajine baked with honey, ginger and saffron and topped with apricots, raisins, sweet onions and roasted almonds and LC tried the lamb shank m’choui roasted with cumin, garlic, paprika, and accented with exotic mushrooms. Cut into managable pieces, the meat fell off the little chicken’s bones and into the fragrant sauce. I scooped up delectable bites with my fingers. Meanwhile, LC preferring a more civilized approach was using his fork and knife to cut pieces of lamb. Hardly necessary, the meat was unimaginably tender with a rich flavor complimented by the earthiness of the mushrooms.

Our server returned to wash our hands before bringing out dessert, which was thankfully light….fruit with simple syrup and small pastries with nuts and powdered sugar. We watched the fire dancers as we sipped the sweet and soothing mint tea.

I went to bed satisfied, memories of fragrant spices and visions of belly dancers whirling in my head. When I awoke, I wondered if it had all been a dream….until I saw my fingernails, stained with saffron.

2285 Peachtree Road NE 404-351-0870

No matter where you are, it’s There.
You can eat some deer, if you dare.
Where “upscale” and “dive” go hand in hand.
A favorite of the E Street Band.

Where am I? There,of course! Brookhaven’s new restaurant and pub, catering to foodies and the occasional rock star, is making quite an impression. A fresh, organic menu features several items that are smoked, pickled, or otherwise laboriously manufactured in-house, from the trail mix with bacon (yes indeed!), to the mysteriously light smoked oyster chowder.

Me and B stopped by recently for a laid-back dinner and drinks. We chose seats at the bar. Being her first visit, B was disappointed to discover the barstools do not actually vibrate as I had reported in a previous post….LOL! Proprietor BB was There with his new prized possession, the guitar left to him by the legendary Clarence Clemens who, sadly, passed away last year.

Chef Ryan Hickey was There as well, bringing out an appetizer sampler including his devine smoked trout deviled eggs topped with duck prosciutto and pickled shallots. A small bowl of crab dip was baked until the manchego bubbled on top. Another small bowl contained his stellar smoked oyster chowder, brimming with perfectly diced potatoes, carrots, and bits of bacon.

We munched on a trio of bar snacks….roasted pepitas, smoked almonds, and the best damn trail mix I’ve ever had, made with peanuts, cashews, candied pineapple and bacon, then sprinkled with sesame seeds. BB delivered housemade fried pickles, a dish of crispy greasy goodness. All an excellent compliment to any beer, like our Coronas with lime served in real mugs with salted rims.

Next we tried the artisanal boar sausage and aptly named “mountain man” sausage made with a variety of wild game, including venison. Both were sliced and served with a grainy mustard and garlic aioli for dipping. A salty, caloric, meaty, manly snack.

Still not quite full, we ventured on to the sandwiches. I’ve tried nearly everything on the abbreviated opening menu except the mahi Cubano, recommended by BB and the chef. A thick filet topped with melted gruyere, pickles, garlic aioli and mustard pressed between two halves of a H & F roll tasted like something you would find at a boardwalk fish house in New England. Excellent fries seasoned with rosemary and garlic came with a wonderful dill-spiked dipping sauce.

There was no room for dessert, but alas, it did not matter. Chef asked if we would like to try a Guinness float. Ya think? B and I took turns sucking the thick and frothy concoction through the straws….yum!

Now I’m just waiting on the duck salad. Bring it on!

This pub cuisine is beyond compare,
So grad your friends, I’ll see you There!

305 Brookhaven Avenue 404-949-9677

Back to Mexico…..

The staff at the Westin Lagunamar, along with the other hotels along Cancun’s main drag, recommend the same restaurants to every visitor, probably single-handedly responsible for keeping these places in business. Not to say that the food is inferior, but chances are it is not very authentic, catering specifically to tourists. One of them is called El Fish Fritanga, located nearby on the beach.

Although it was a little chilly, LC and I sat outside where the mariachi serenaded us. Nothing fancy, the decor was reminiscent of the casual restaurants that dot any beach in the states, with palm trees wrapped in lights and sand beneath your feet.

Naturally, we started off with margaritas and tried the ceviche with fish and shrimp. Served in a cute dish shaped like a shell, the ceviche was fresh and bright, with a decisive citrus tang. An abundance of cilantro and slices of avocado on top sealed the deal. We transferred spoonfuls of the marinated seafood to individual fish shaped dishes.

For my main dish I ordered the signature fish fritanga, a departure from my usual lobster or shrimp. I was hoping for a recreation of the incredibly spicy fish rubbed with hot chilis then grilled like I had on the beach in Playa del Carmen a few years back. The fritanga, however, was not seasoned with a dry rub but rather topped with a slightly spicy chili sauce. I requested guacamole alongside. It was light and tasty, but not very spicy.

LC ordered shrimp kebabs, simply served with rice and the dreaded Mexican crinkle-cut fries. Although the dish wasn’t terribly exciting, he enjoyed the smoky grilled flavor of the shrimp.

With our healthy appetizer and entree choices, there was plenty of room for dessert! We chose the homemade corn ice cream served in a corn husk. Subtly sweet, we both loved it. Happy and full, we hopped the bus for the brief ride back to our resort.

Lately, the only time I stop by Babette’s is to pick up a sinfully rich dried cherry tart….my very favorite dessert on the planet! But a recent Sunday night found us craving something different, yet in the neighborhood.

Babette’s charming atmosphere makes it the perfect choice for a romantic date. Located in a renovated house, the interior is rustic and charming with creaky, weathered wood floors and vintage fixtures.

The cuisine at Babette’s is mostly French influenced, puncuated with a few Mediterranean dishes. In keeping with tradition, I started with a glass of spicy Cote du Rhone. Surprisingly, LC chose the same which we sipped while nibbling on hunks of their freshly baked baguettes, delivered standing straight up in a little pail….very phallic. Very French.

A selection of small plates is usually the best way to go at this cafe’. After my lengthy absence, chef and owner Marla Adams had added some interesting new ones, as well as deleted a couple of old standbys. No worries, the entrees were calling our names, so we decided to split one and start with the (new) lobster spinach crepes, (old standby) artichoke and olive raviolis, and roasted cauliflower (new).

Not at all what I expected, the crepes themselves were made with spinach, simply filled with succulent chunks of lobster, delicately folded and resting in a light truffle butter sauce with a little mound of sauteed mushrooms on top. LC and I loved them!

The raviolis were as delicious as I remembered….about six pasta pouches filled with pureed artichokes and olives in a deceptively light wine butter sauce.

I think of cauliflower as white and bland, but the vegetable dish offered a small plate was the surprise of the evening. Roasted florets were drizzled with a bit of butter sauce and topped with slivers of toasted almonds.

For our entree we chose the pan roasted pork chop with onion sauce, paired with roasted Brussels sprouts and horseradish mashed potatoes. I ordered a second glass of wine as we waited on its arrival. The large bone-in chop was tender and flavorful, but the best part was the sauce….not a sauce at all but a generous helping of sweet caramelized onions. Brussels sprouts displayed an earthy, smoky flavor, although not quite tender enough. I don’t even remember the mashed potatoes but I’m pretty sure we cleaned our plate.

My second choice was the roast half duck with rutabaga compote and farro. Maybe next time, if the next time is soon, as chef changes her menu seasonally, and sometimes daily.

Which brings me to the dried cherry tart, a decadent treat only available in the Fall and Winter months. As if it wasn’t rich enough, we added a scoop of homemade vanilla ice cream on the side. Dried cherries plumped up with liquor fill the crust made with crushed almonds. It is at once sweet and tart, chewy and crunchy….ridiculously amazing!

573 North Highland Avenue 404-523-9121

Gotta love a place with a name like Fig Jam. From the owners of Baraonda and Publik Draft House, this relatively new spot occupies the corner vacated by Baroni at Brookwood Station. This is where I celebrated my birthday….for the third time.

LC and I worked up our appetites early and couldn’t wait for our 8 o’clock reservation, instead arriving around 7:15 to find the place unusually quiet for a Saturday night. The space was warm and inviting as we settled into a private table in the back.

First things first….what to drink? A list of signature cocktails caught our attention. The Fig Jam made with vanilla infused organic vodka, fig preserve, lemon juice, maple syrup, and rhubarb bitters sounded irresistible. We also ordered the mini cheddar cheese sandwich, one of the nine small plates offered.

Served with an amazing apple chutney, we polished off the delectible little sammies lickety split, as well as our subtly sweet and deceptively strong cocktails. With no clear plan in mind, we moved on to one of the medium plates, mussles in coconut lemongrass curry broth.

When it comes to mussels, I’m spoiled. Noche used to have gigantic ones swimming in a very spicy chili broth with cilantro and hominy. These days, however, no one can hold a candle to chef Shane Devereux’ at Top Flr. Although their description is almost identicle to Fig Jam’s, Devereux adds a serious dose of heat. I request a spoon for the broth every time….seriously. So, although the mussels were very good indeed, the flavor of the broth at Fig Jam lacked the intensity that I love.

Enjoying grazing dish by dish, we decided on the lamb belly with bourbon maple sauce. Another medium plate, there was enough meat for two entrees, with pickled veggies providing a perfect contrast to the sweet glaze.

Having reviewed the menu prior to making the reservation, I was fixated on the duck confit entree. I know duck doesn’t make LC swoon, but he’s a good sport and will usually (and wisely) allow me to make the final decision where food is concerned. LC was, likewise, fixated on the flat breads. So, in an effort to compromise, we ordered both, despite the fact that we were already full. We also ordered two more of the Fig Jam cocktails.

The flatbread was literally half the size of the table and turned out to be the least impressive dish of the evening. It was like an enormous Saltine cracker topped with cubes of dry steak, a smattering of blue cheese, and not enough caramelized onions.

I was much more pleased with the duck confit, an appropriately crispy, fatty leg and thigh served over braised parsnips, with a drizzle of cherry au jus. Beets normally accompany the duck but I requested it without. As if that weren’t enough, we tried the Jefferson mac & cheese as a side, baked in a shallow dish with crunchy bread crumbs on top. Why Jefferson? I don’t know, but I do know that I would have enjoyed the duck and mac more if I had been hungry.

And what’s a birthday celebration without dessert! We barely made a dent in the bread pudding with raisins and cinnamon accented with a bourbon caramel sauce. It went home with us.

An abbreviated wine list shows depth and variety, with a nice selection by the glass. When you visit (as you should) just keep in the mind the portions are oversized. LC and I ordered enough for six and left in a food coma.

1745 Peachtree Street NE 404-724-9100

Patience is a virtue I lack. Or, perhaps I am simply efficient. When I shop I can cover a department store in under 20 minutes. I’m in and out of the grocery store in a flash. And, my disdain for the suburbs is legendary. So spending over two hours at Kohl’s in Alpharetta recently was less than ideal.

Later, I accompanied LC to the neighborhood AT & T store, after which we went in search of an afternoon snack. We passed one strip mall after another, each anchored by a pasteurized, homogenized big-box retailer….Costco, Walmart, Target, Home Depot. Alpharetta’s got ‘em all.

Ditto for restaurant chains that surround them. After thirty minutes of driving around, I didn’t see even one independently owned, non-franchise restaurant. We settled for Hudson Grille, a local sportsbar chain with four locations in the Atlanta area, owned by Metrotainment who’s holdings also include Garrison’s, Einstein’s, and Cowtippers.

It was almost warm enough to sit outside, but alas, we couldn’t see the big screen due to the sun’s glare, so we moved inside where we were surrounded by multipled big screens, each showing a different college basketball game. At this point, I was in need of an alcoholic beverage.

Hudson Grille offers your typical sportsbar fare with a good amount of Texican dishes much like Taco Mac. As a rule, I usually don’t order tacos unless I’m at a Mexican restaurant, but our server did such a great job she almost sold me on their chicken tacos. Unfortunately, we had tacos the night before so I ordered sliders and LC went with his standard hot wings, and we shared a side of onion rings.

Although they were topped with caramelized onions and pepper jack, the sliders didn’t deliver much flavor. Perhaps it was the proportion of bread to meat….about 90/10. Honestly, Krystals are much better. Onion rings were good and crispy, but LC was disappointed with the lack of spice on his hot wings. To their credit, they serve the wings with high quality chunky blue cheese dressing for dipping the traditional celery sticks.

Our experience at Hudson Grille was not a bad one. The service was excellent (and efficient!) and they have an absurd amount of flat screen TV’s which would be great for March madness. But at the end of the day, it’s your typical sports bar, set in the suburban sprawl of Alpharetta.

865 North Main Street 770-777-4127

Following my haute dog lunch, I continued to celebrate my birthday with food and wine at Barcelona Wine Bar. It’s the hottest new restaurant in town, experiencing its 15 minutes of uber-trendiness, making it nearly impossible to get a reservation.

You might expect this place to be the brainchild of one of Atlanta’s genius restaurateurs, but in fact, it is the seventh location, with the original six strewn about Connecticut.

Each with a vastly different decor and layout, Atlanta’s Barcelona is made for partying, with a lively bar on one side, rows of tightly packed tables on the other, and a patio with communal seating and a fireplace. Wood plank walls give the space warmth and provide a rustic contrast to the industrial white tiles with black grout that surround the open kitchen. Lighting is perfect for a sexy rendezvous.

Having been to Barcelona, Spain, a few years ago, I was expecting plates of fried seafood laden with grease, lots of boring potatoes, marinated baby fish, and meatballs with tomatoes. I know, the food in Spain is supposed to be amazing, but that’s just like saying the food in New York City is amazing. Sure it is….if you know where to go. Even with the best advice, I stumbled upon some rather unappetizing dishes in Barcelona.

But the reviews said otherwise. Me, B and C squeezed ourselves into a tiny corner table, birthday gift bags in tow. C kindly agreed to be our designated driver, so B and I began scouring the wine list for an appropriately spicy bottle of red. Perhaps a malbec or temperanillo? B asked our server to recommend one that would suit our taste and pocketbook, but he insisted that we would not be happy with the less expensive bottles and finally persuaded us to go with a Spanish cab. It was rather tasty.

We decided to order a selection of tapas to share. B and I love Brussels sprouts so we started with a bowl of them, grilled until tender with crispy charred edges. Then the octopus arrived, prepared with peppers and fingerling potatoes….great flavor.

A dish of chorizo with sweet and sour figs was certainly more sweet than sour, but delicious nonetheless. I wasn’t as impressed with the chicken empanadas or the grilled hanger steak, but B and C enjoyed them. Our final dish of mushrooms with herbed goat cheese was sublime but turned out to be one dish too many….we were stuffed.

But that didn’t stop us from ending my birthday dinner with, not one, but two desserts. Dulce de leche crepes with chocolate sauce was an enormous portion and the fleur de sel vanilla ice cream that topped them tasted like plain ol’ vanilla. A bucket of churros with chocolate dipping sauce were etherial in their lightness despite being fried dough.

Our tapas experience was just the tip of the culinary iceberg at Barcelona. Offerings include an entire selection of charcuterie and Spanish cheeses, medium plates like lobster risotto and rabbit roulade, and entrees ranging from serrano ham wrapped monkfish to pepper-rubbed filet mignon. Paella for a table of two to six is also available.
And yes, of course the restaurant serves crispy fried calamari, marinated boquerones, traditional albondigas, and patatas bravas.

It could take me a year to work through this menu. Thankfully, the fervor will have subsided by then and I will likely be able to walk in without a reservation at all.

240 N. Highland Avenue NE 404-589-1010