Hot Dish Review

An Oktoberfest favorite!
Once again, the signs for hot boiled peanuts on the way to Helen proved to be too tempting to pass by. ST and I stopped at my favorite stand on the way Saturday.

Dale has lots of signs. Coming from both directions, headed to or from GA400, it is hard to miss his hot boiled peanut stand. With two pots bubbling away, one regular, one cajun, we pulled over for a snack.

ST wanted the cajun. Good idea. Dale scoops them up in a giant styrofoam cup and provides a paper sack for the shells. Inside the sack are a couple of tiny Bible scripture booklets….classic. Eating them while driving (the peanuts, not the scripture booklets), however, proved to be quite challenging. ST said my driving became rather ‘iratic’. Whatever. No one died, that’s all that matters.

I wish I had taken a photo of his cat, a beautiful fluffy black boy that his grand-daughter named Hello Kitty Penny Dale….I swear, it’s true.

The cajun peanuts were delicious….just a hint of peppery spice. We finished them off when we arrived at my parents’ place in Helen, with a nice, cold Miller Lite. An appropriate start for the weekend!

Grab your Lederhosen….it’s that time of year again!

Last weekend’s amazing weather provided the perfect backdrop for a visit to Helen, the faux Bavarian village near Dahlonega that gives locals a taste of Germany, in a redneck sort of way.

Their Oktoberfest celebration is actually rather fun. Me, LC and his awesome parents hit the road to check out the Festhalle, dance the polka, and drink a lot of beer!

Since my parents are part-time residents of Helen, it is a frequent destination for me. However, this was their first visit to the quaint and somewhat cheesy North Georgia town. We started off with lunch at Old Heidelberg. My Mom joined us.

We chose a table on the tiny balcony, me and Mom’s new favorite spot. Ice cold beers, Warsteiner draft for me, cooled us off in the blazing Oktober sun. An appetizer described as sauerkraut and bacon rolled in dough sounded both weird and delicious. And it was.

Mom ordered her usual goulash soup while the rest of us split various kinds of wurst. LC and I tried the trio which included bauernwurst, bratwurst, and knockwurst. Served with sauerkraut and whipped potatoes with gravy it was a hearty portion, certainly enough for two.

Old Heidelberg serves some of the best German fare in Helen. A note of trivia: the restaurant is the most photographed building in Georgia. Another beer to wash it down and we were ready to walk around town and see the sights on our way to the Festhalle.

LC’s parents are really cool and laid back. His Dad, KC, shares my birthday so that gives him an automatic advantage where I’m concerned. And his Mom, FC, must be a saint to put up with them both.

At the Festhalle we ordered a pitcher of beer and the parents picked up three bags of candied beer nuts somewhere when we weren’t looking. Soon they were up on the dancefloor doing the polka!

On the drive back to Atlanta we stopped at one of the many farmer’s stands, this one specializing in all kinds of sauces, jams, and condiments….they had a whole room of them. We got some hot boiled peanuts to snack on.

There are only two weeks left of Oktoberfest. This weekend will most likely be the busiest, as the leaves finally begin to change to Fall hues. The weather promises to be stunning once again so hop in the car and head North to enjoy beer and brats in Helen!

As usual, LC had the hookup on all access passes to the PGA Championships last week. He had coordinated much of the transportation for the event and I had worked with several groups as well, so it was both business than pleasure.

The Atlanta Athletic Club hosted the event and I spent a solid nine hours there on Friday, entertaining clients and hanging out with friends and colleagues. There was so much going on that I completely forgot it was August 12th….the second anniversary of this blog!

I arrived with friend BG, the searing heat prompting us to head straight for the clubhouse where we ordered a couple of Corona Lights. It was a beautiful day so we strolled the course for a bit, taking in a few choice shots, but the stagnant heat soon overtook us and we made our way to the next venue, the Wanamaker Club, a vast super air-conditioned space with a centrally located bar, tons of flat-screen TV’s, and a variety of fast food for purchase in the back. It’s hard to fathom how many striped polos I saw in that place!

Having a shiny, all access laminate is nice. For instance, they didn’t search my bag and make me check my camera. Photos were not allowed during the tournament, but I did manage to snap a few of the course, and most importantly, the cheeseburger that BG and I split. It was your typical food stall burger, slapped together with little care. Cold cheese didn’t melt, especially against the cold lettuce and tomato. The bun, however, was expertly removed from the bag. I squirted some mayo from the institutional bucket on the bottom and used lettuce for the top, as always (apres photo).

Shortly after we finished our cheeseburger, BG had to go, but CF was not far behind. She is our marketing guru, and as I found out, can really put away some pulled pork BBQ nachos, made with the sterotypical institutional corn chips and bright orange “cheese” sauce. At least they had jalapenos on them. I ordered a Blue Moon with a slice of orange and a hot dog, simply dressed with mustard. The bun was stale so I used it primarily as a holder for the dog.

By the time LC showed up I was ready to go. One more Blue Moon at the Wanamaker club and a bag of jalapeno kettle chips to complete my day of dietary disaster.

Can’t wait to get to the ballpark!
Although I adore greasy cheeseburgers and institution-grade pizza, I just can’t bring myself to go to a baseball game without eating a hot dog, its casing filled with mysterious meat, frightening yet somehow delicious.

Last night, before the Braves got completely clobbered by the Phillies, LC and I stood in an excrutiatingly long line to get our weiner fix. Luckily we had stopped by the 755 Club for beers to keep us occupied.

Rather than the standard foot long I opted for a bratwurst with sauteed onions. LC got the foot long with cheese and sauteed onions. It was a sloppy mess. My brat was pretty good with the addition of bright yellow mustard. An order of fries complimented our trashy dinner (check out the gaudy packaging!) that we scarfed down at a table near the concessions, watching the game on one of the thousands of TV’s mounted on every surface. Another Miller Lite, and another, washed it all down.

The fries at Turner Field are disappointing. I wish they were shoestring but they are cut a bit too thick. Even more disconcerting, however, is the ketchup. I don’t know how it’s possible to fuck up ketchup, but somehow they have managed to purchase the worst tasting product. Surely delivered in vats, the stuff has a weird sweetness, kinda disgusting.

As the season draws to a riveting close, I’ll be back at the ballpark this afternoon. Today I will most likely get the old reliable foot long simply dressed with raw onions and mustard. And maybe some hot boiled peanuts if I’m in the mood for a sodium-induced coma.

It’s do or die for our Braves. Will there be cause to cheer or will there be a tear in my beer?

Shortly after arriving home on my 9 1/2 hour flight from Frankfurt, LC and I were sitting on the patio at Diesel, enjoying the gorgeous weather, some refreshing beer, and some good food.

Weary of brot und wurst, I needed to refuel on some good ol’ American, starting off with a Miller Lite….can’t get more American than that!

Having already had breakfast, lunch, and dinner on European time, I found myself back in the states in the early afternoon, confusing my mealtime clock. No worries, LC and I would get a few items to share, mix ‘n’ match, like we always do.

The restaurant’s close proximity to my house, plus its spacious patio and laid-back vibe, make it an easy choice. Not to mention, we’ve had some pretty darn tasty food here. A dozen hot wings and sweet potato fries have become our standard order, to which I added the spinach salad.

A big bowl of fresh spinach came out first, topped with bacon, mushrooms, boiled eggs, candied walnuts, and a fried green tomato. It was a brilliant composition of sweet and salty, crunchy and chewy. We both loved it, although there was too much breading on the tomato.

More beer was ordered as we relaxed, leisurely eating the spicy wings and crispy, sweet fries. Happily, I got my second wind. Was it time for dessert? Almost. But first LC wanted to get an order of the BBQ shrimp, swimming in a spicy Cajun broth served with bread for dipping. They were good but I was full so he polished them off.

Now it was time for dessert!

There aren’t many options for eating out in the small town where my family lives in Germany. Within walking distance from Omi’s house, however, is an old house that was renovated years ago as a restaurant.

Ironically, it is her family’s former home, the birthplace of four of my relatives. After many years as a pizza place, the restaurant was recently sold and renamed Salt and Pepper.

They serve a variety of menu choices we would call bar food like nachos, cheese sticks, and chicken wings, and the requisite German “schnitzel”, but also an Austrian specialty called “flammkuchen”. Much like flatbread, it is a very thin crust with toppings including “schmand”, a cross between sour cream and cream cheese that translates literaly to “fat”.

I ordered a Krombacher beer on draft and Mom tried a white wine. There are several options for additional toppings on the flammkuchens. I chose the traditional Alsacian variation with ham and onions while my Mom tried one with ham and mushrooms.

Our large rectangular flammkuchens arrived, the thin crusts singed on the bottom from the stone oven. Toppings were minimal but tasty.

The Germans love to mix drinks that are not meant to be together, like the popular Coke and lemonade drink called a “spezi”. As I was polishing off my beer, I noticed Salt and Pepper offers some specialty drinks, the common mix of beer and Coke called a “radler”, and “weizen”, or wheat beer, mixed with banana or cherry juice. Interesting.

I had to try the weizenkirsch, with cherry. Our server misunderstood and brought one for me and my Mom….a happy mistake as I drank them both! A little fizzy and not too sweet, the drink was awesome. A friend told me they have a similar concoction available at World Market. I’ll let you know if I find it.

Prost!

While I was in Germany, I thought I would rerun a few posts on Helen, North Georgia’s faux Bavarian village! Prost!
This restaurant is an old standby in Helen. I’ve eaten there dozens of times….with my Mom, with friends, take-out. Only today did I realize it is not Old Bavarian Inn, but rather Old Bavaria Inn. Robert, the latest owner, has maintained the highest standards of food quality. I think it’s the best German restaurant in Helen proper!

ST and I drove up to my parents’ place in Helen last weekend to continue his birthday celebration. We dined at Old Bavaria Inn Saturday night on authentic German fare. It had been a while since I had ribchen (smoked pork chops) und sauerkraut. I always loved it when my Mom made it when I was a kid.

I’ve often ordered the spaetzle with cream sauce and ham with a bratwurst for lunch. On this visit I couldn’t pass up this super fatty spaetzle appetizer. Rich, rich, rich.

Old Bavaria Inn offers all of your German favorites from Weiner schnitzel to sauerbraten. I opted for the schlachtplatte (meat plate)…..a selection of bratwurst, knockwurst, and ribchen served with red cabbage, sauerkraut and potato salad. ST ordered the rinder rouladen, thin beef filets rolled and stuffed with pickled veggies and served with red cabbage and spaetzle. Both entrees should come with a side of Gas X too!

The least authentic thing they serve is the potato salad. Not the traditional German style that is served warm, their version is decidedly American made with red skin-on potatoes and served chilled.

We washed it down with lots of beer….Warsteiner, Erdinger, Paulaner, anything that ended in -er.

Robert brought out a complimentary slice of apple strudel for ST’s birthday. They were out of the amazing hazelnut torte that me and my Mom always order….it is not to be missed!

We were stuffed! It was nice to be in Helen again.

Another local favorite in Helen is the Troll Tavern, mainly due to its superior location beneath the bridge and along the river. In the Summer diners and drinkers at the Troll can watch as trampy teenagers in dirty string bikinis and other assorted riffraff float down the Chattahoochie in bright pink innertubes (ST and I included).

The food used to be pretty good, then became completely horrific, but now seems back to pretty good. Historically, I order the wurst platter with a knockwurst, bratwurst, sauerkraut and red cabbage but since I just had that exact meal the night before, I opted for a big fat cheeseburger. I really love cheeseburgers. And fries. Let’s see how the Troll stacks up to some of my Atlanta favorites!

The weather was improving on this pre-Spring day. ST and I tried the Paulaner Oktoberfest draft which we both really enjoyed. Maintaining the Bavarian theme, he ordered their Weiner schnitzel. Served with sauerkraut and red cabbage, naturlich! The crispy breaded schnitzel (I’m assuming veal) was better than I expected, quite delicious actually. I will order it on my next visit.

I ordered my burger medium. It was closer to well-done but still juicy. Topped with two slices of provolone, lettuce, tomato and gobs of mayo, the massive burger was pretty tasty. The double cooked fries were extra crispy. Troll scores a B+ in burger wars. ST didn’t want his cabbage so I was happy to eat it. Troll’s red cabbage is the best in Helen.

We shared a couple more beers as we watched the meandering masses on the bridge over the river, men with bellies wearing tight acid washed denim shorts from 1989, bikers in full gear, and your average chubby chick from Cherrylog.

All together, great people watching and great hangover food!

This gastro pub in the heart of L5P is owned by chef Nick Rutherford, who’s culinary pedigree has earned him and his establishment much praise.

Located in the long, narrow space that was once Bridgetown Grill, I can’t walk into The Porter without being transported back in time to the days when me and the boys in The Tombstones would take up residency in the big booth up front, ordering pitchers of cheap beer, Jamaican veggie patties, jerk chicken, and more beer.

Gone are the bright tropical walls and booths, replaced by warm hues of brown. It’s a cozy space condusive to sampling unusual brews and creative pub fare. And I love the little touches like serving water in Mason jars.

I’ve had stellar mac ‘n’ cheese and crazy good goat cheese fritters on previous visits. Although I’ve heard mostly positive reports on Rutherford’s entrees, I’ve yet to venture past the starters.

LC and I stopped in recently, choosing a secluded booth in the back. The Porter’s beer list can be daunting despite the fact that it is catergorized by type….430 choices from ales to stouts.

Unlike most pubs, however, The Porter’s other focus is the food. We started our visit with the obvious….goat cheese fritters which look unnervingly like cheese sticks of the frozen mozzarella variety, but are rather filled with soft, warm goat cheese. The fritters are finished with a sprinkling of black pepper and a generous drizzle of clover honey. Sweet, savory, and perfect with a beer like my Brooklyn Chocolate Stout.

Wanting to try at least one new dish, I ordered the mussels, in a simple broth made with Dogfish Head 60 Minute and tomato water. Too simple. They were delivered with a smattering of coarsely minced garlic which I found rather off-putting. The crusty bread was good but I didn’t like the broth enough to sop it up. No comparison to the amazing mussels at Top Flr.

LC tried The Porter’s take on the traditional pub meal of fish ‘n’ chips. He enjoyed the flaky fried cod but, again, I didn’t find anything above average in the flavor or presentation, although I thought it was fun that Rutherford uses Terrapin Golden Beer in the batter. Belgian fries seasoned with garlic oil were perfectly crispy, but LC didn’t care for them.

The Porter offers a few beer “flights”, inviting guests to sample beers they may not have tried before. Turns out, the flavor profiles and nuances of beer are much more complicated than wine.

And you thought beer was for dummies.

1156 Euclid Avenue 404-223-0393

There is no chance I would have ever come across this place on my own, but LC lives in Alpharetta and was at Montana’s almost every time we talked last Summer.

It’s the kind of place with something for everyone, including 27 big screen TV’s for sports fans, and live music on the weekends.

Despite a seemingly pedestrian menu, LC raved about their food. Where the menu lacks in originality, it more than makes up for in flavor, like the surprisingly awesome white bean chili.

He talked me into making the drive north with him a couple of weeks ago. I was craving a cigarette and Montana’s is one of the few places left that allows smoking inside, so I was all for it.

The place is huge, with a small bar in front, a dining area that was totally empty on the night of our visit, and the big enclosed “patio” where the bands set up, complete with neon signs, plastic palm trees, and American flags. This is also the smoking area so we settled into a booth. Nearby I spotted an old friend, EC, who is single-handedly responsible for my love of Braves baseball. I told LC the story as we sipped our beers and I lit a smoke from the pack I found at the Widespread Panic show a couple of days earlier.

We decided to share a few random items, tapas style. First, the white bean chili I mentioned before….a slow cooked specialty made with great Northern white beans, chicken, jalapenos, and cilantro. Damn if it wasn’t kickass! It could have used more cilantro on top, but I can hardly complain. A little heat and a ton of flavor.

Another surprise was the macaroni and cheese. The side dish was made with rigatoni drenched in a rich bechamel sauce, then individually baked to melt and brown the cheeses on top. It would give any trendy in-town restaurant some stiff competition.

LC wanted his favorite, hot wings, so we ordered a dozen extra hot. We were disappointed that they came out with carrots instead of celery as listed on the menu, but the crisp veggie did the trick to cool off our tongues, dipped in their chunky blue cheese dressing after each scorching bite of juicy chicken.

Among other predictable menu items, Montana’s serves burgers, quesadillas, nachos, crab cakes, and BBQ ribs. If our meal is any indication, my guess is that many of these items would be equally impressive.

Another beer, another cigarette, as the band was warming up. No wonder LC likes this place….it’s easy, laid-back. I would definitely recommend a visit if you are in the burbs!

13695 Highway 9, Alpharetta 678-366-8928