Hot Dish Review

One of my all-time favorites, Floataway Cafe, remains an Atlanta classic after twelve years in business. With so many new restaurants constantly opening, it’s often hard for me to get back to my old standbys.

To be honest, after Anne’s expansion and renovation a couple of years ago, I was afraid the space may have lost its charm. However, when I finally visited a few months later, I found the main dining room’s whimsical atmosphere intact.

Along with the physical renovation came a new chef, Drew Belline, who renovated the somewhat static menu. My favorite dish, the chicken with warm bread salad, was taken off. I would be boycotting Floataway until it was back. But that would turn out to be unnecessary as I called Anne (Quatrano, who owns Floataway, Baccanalia, and Abattoir with partner/husband Clifford Harrison, but you already knew that, right?) and she said I could simply request the brined chicken a day ahead if I wanted it. Fabulous.

That too, would turn out to be unnecessary. By the time I finally revisited last weekend the chicken was back on the menu. From what Anne said, I wasn’t the only one in love with that bird. Funny, I don’t order chicken anywhere else.

Floataway’s menu has both an Italian accent and a Southern one. Having little affection for either, the restaurant and I are an odd couple. There is a section devoted to pastas and another to pizzas. Sweet corn, crowder peas, and a strudel made with apples from Elijay bring it down home. Many of Atlanta’s food writers seem to have some bizarre love affair with their grilled chicken livers but I promise you I won’t be among them.

LC and I made our way through the warehouses on Zonolite to the restaurant’s unlikely location. It was his first Floataway visit and my first time seated in the addition. The newer dining room is spacious but I still prefer the original space.

Clifford Harrison does the wine program and keeps the list well-edited and affordable. We chose the $42 Chateauneuf du Pape Lazaret, a softer red with subtle spice and cherry notes, and ordered an appetizer. Normally I get a few cheeses. Floataway, and now Abattoir, are Atlanta’s culinary stars of cheese and accompaniments. Having studied their compositions, now I do a pretty good rendition at my house. So instead we tried the ridiculously irresistible sounding pizza with roasted figs, prosciutto, gorgonzola, and balsamic.

Anne and Clifford’s people can make bread. And they can make pizza dough too. Chewy and crunchy, the pizza crust held the orgasmic combination of ingredients above topped with bright arugula. Salty, sweet, and sharp. Big enough for a meal for two, we took half of it home. Just wish I had requested it cooked well-done so the center of the crust would have been crisper.

And then there was the entree. Described as wood oven roasted Springer Mountain chicken with warm bread salad. The charred skin covered juicy meat that begged to be eaten with fingers. We obliged. The bread salad lacked the intense vinegary bite it had in its former incarnation, but it was delicious nonetheless. There were pinenuts and wilted arugula but it seems something was missing. Something sweet. Cranberries?

We paired the chicken with a side of fried okra. As you may know, like fried green tomatoes, fried okra can be one of my pet peeves when prepared incorrectly. Just like Miller Union, Floataway buys only local and organic produce. Unlike Miller Union, however, their okra had flavor. Although it was cut lengthwise which is just plain weird, the breading was very light, and didn’t mask the ubergreen freshness of the okra. Damn, it was good.

My dessert experiences at Floataway have been far from stellar including a grainy semifreddo and other somewhat boring cakes and such. Suffice it to say I have taken to skipping dessert there altogether. But the blueberry brown butter tart with buttermilk sorbeto sounded yummy, so we gave it a try.

A thin slice was full of blueberries complemented by the slightly tangy sorbeto. Probably the best dessert I’ve had there but I’m still not swooning over it.

The service, as always, was exceptional. Hopefully I can return before another year passes!

1123 Zonolite Road 404-892-1414

This is one of those events that I would not believe existed if I didn’t see it with my own eyes. Imagine….a packed stadium of 1200 guests watching a wild west show complete with horses jumping through rings of fire and lumberjacks pitted against each other in friendly competition.

Our group of six sat a few rows back….a better view and less smell from the horses, according to DC. Indeed, I would prefer not to smell manure while eating. Dinner is prix fix and served without utensils. From the folks we talked to at Dollywood, both the ride operators and the visitors, it was clear that food in Pigeon Forge would be best if it didn’t require chewing. Attention: all dentists please report to the Smoky Mountains!

Here’s how the Dixie Stampede works: you have a choice of Pepsi or iced tea (would you like some tea with your sugar, sugar?) a creamy vegetable soup is poured from a pitcher into a bowl with a little handle. It tasted like cream of mushroom to me. Another server placed biscuits on each plate with practiced speed.

Shortly after the last sip of soup was slurped, the bowls were whisked away and replaced by a whole rotisserie chicken, which sits all alone on each plate until it is joined by half a potato. Moments later a dry slice of pork joins in, then a half ear of corn on the cob. All the while, horses are pulling wagons with cowgirls singing along to country tunes, all recorded by, you guessed it, Dolly Parton. If there was a story line, I wasn’t paying attention, only that the opposite side of the stadium represented the North, while our side was for the South. Good.

Horses galloped, a woman from the audience was hidden in a barrel, and everyone tore their chickens apart by hand. The skin was not crisp so I pulled it off, picking off bits of leg and thigh. With meat under my nails, I took a big gulp of my tea before gnawing the kernels off the corn cob. The tasteless potato was simply filler. In fact, the entire dinner was filler, designed to entice the hungry masses to see a show at dinnertime.

Our plates were cleared as we packed up the leftover chicken in a doggie bag. The show continued as another wave of servers came by with dessert, huge apple turnovers that could have browned in the oven a few more minutes, but were nonetheless hot and crispy.

At the conclusion, a huge video screen appeared with Dolly singing a patriotic song in a sequined red, white, and blue costume. Yes, it was a spectacle to behold.

Speaking of spectacles, I almost forgot the buffalo! A small herd of well-trained buffalo made a special appearance….don’t ask me why, I can’t explain it.

The show, including food service, was complete in 1 1/2 hours, like clockwork. Also, no photos are allowed so I only took nine or so. Notably, there is no alcohol served during the Dixie Stampede, so make sure to get liquored up beforehand. You’re gonna need it.

Not a pretty sight. Like my trip to Brazil last year, I flew to Germany in First Class and suffered through coach on the way back. If you have never flown First Class, I can assure you the difference in physical comfort and the food service are worth the extra bucks, especially on international flights.

You know how you hear the clanking of silverware as you are stowing your carry-on bags in coach? That’s when service begins in First Class….before the plane even leaves the ground!

In coach, the cart is rolled up to the front, full of heated trays covered in thick foil. Chicken or pasta? Me and Mom laughed because that is always the choice. It’s never steak, or duck, or shrimp. We both chose the chicken which was unceramoniously placed on our trays. No white tablecloths here.

There was a salad topped with flavorless julienned radish, a doughy roll wrapped in plastic, crackers and cheese in wrappers, and a chocolate cookie for dessert, in a wrapper. Classy.

We ate our entrees with plastic forks and knives. To be honest, the chicken entree was quite tasty, paired with a gooey mushroom risotto and baby green beans and carrots. The chocolate cookie was pretty awesome, too.

But Delta saved the worst for last. What seemed like a lifetime after our lunch, they came around with a snack. Once again, Mom accurately predicted what we would be served….a sandwich on an enormous white roll, wrapped in plastic, of course. Plus a little cup of ice cream for dessert.

Separated by a flimsy blue curtain, we were seated just one row behind First Class, yet a world away.

Recently, I had the opportunity to sample a meal from Good Measure Meals, a local company that prepares and delivers healthy gourmet meals.

They offer several calorie options and plans, from dinner only to a full day’s worth of meals and snacks. The best part is that 100% of the profits go to Atlanta nonprofit Open Hand. Seriously cool.

My dinner selection was chicken roulade Florencia topped with mushroom sauce, served with bulgar and lentil pilaf with caramelized onions and Brussels sprouts. Part of a 1200 calorie plan, the meal had 380 calories made up of 11 grams of fat, 43 grams of carbs, and 29 grams of protein. It was relatively high in sodium, 800 mg, compared to many frozen entrees I purchase that hover around the 600 mg mark.

Although a typical dinner that I prepare myself is closer to 300 calories, being lower in carbs and protein, I was pleased with the quality and flavor of this meal. As the name suggests, the chicken was a thin breast piece, rolled up with a spinach filling. The Brussels sprouts were steamed tender but lacked excitement. Bulgur and lentil pilaf was earthy with a nice toothsome quality, contributing to the whopping 11 grams of fiber in the meal. It was hearty and satisfying.

If I were a busy dieter, I would definitely consider using Good Measure Meals. They are fresh and creative, plus I admire their efforts to give back to the community.

We tried to go to Sound Table. Really, we did. But our friend CL was out of sorts and swore I said Top Flr. So, of course, that is where we ended up.

It was late-ish and I was hungry-ish. B and I made our entrance, said our hellos, and quickly ordered some wine. Quick, however, wasn’t the manner of delivery. It wasn’t N’s fault, all of the glasses were dirty. My lack of patience made the wait seem like forever but it was probably only ten minutes.

Once we each had a glass of Bordeaux, we were ready to order food. The roasted chicken and kimchee plate at Taste of Atlanta had me craving the actual dish. B decided on the pappardelle, the current version with mushrooms. Both of us love Brussels sprouts so we had the Brussels au gratin and the irresistible mac ‘n’ cheese on the side.

As is often the case, seated at the bar, meals at Top Flr become a communal experience. Folks show up, pull up a chair and by the end of the evening you’ve sampled food from friends and strangers alike.

PLB was there with his awesome wife J. JM was running the show. O popped in and joined us, ordering the mouthwatering duck confit pizza. Our entrees and smoldering sides came. My chicken was a tiny little thing, more like a Cornish game hen, however, the portion was rather large. Its crispy brown skin covered the succulent dark meat (did I have three leg quarters?) atop a soy reduction, paired with perfectly spicy kimchee made with Brussels sprouts.

The other preparation of Brussels sprouts, gratin with bacon, cream and fennel was one of the most amazing dishes I’ve had in recent memory. O took a bite and said “I got a big chunk of pork and it was goooooood!” I commented to Dinner Party sommelier JD who was working the bar that I could eat a bowl of it for breakfast and he concurred.

B’s pappardelle was the very definition of comfort food, rich and earthy with chanterelle, oyster, and lobster mushrooms in a creamy truffle jus. The simplicity of the pappardelle belies the hours of labor it takes to make it in-house. It is easy for diners to take the flawless pasta for granted.

An acquaintance of O’s was seated an few stools down from me and we got to chatting about our mutual love of food. Later he offered me a taste of his roasted squash.

My least favorite dish of the evening was the mac ‘n’ cheese. It was a little drier than usual. O shared his duck confit pizza which was as decadent and delicious as ever.

Sound Table, sorry we stood you up. We’ll be back soon, I promise!

674 Myrtle Street 404-685-3110

Piedmont Park’s Green concert last week featured legendary band The Eagles, an event to benefit the park’s Conservancy. There were general admission lawn tickets for around $65 and VIP tickets for over $250. The difference? Food and drinks.

VIP ticket holders were treated to a pre-party at the W Midtown with complimentary cocktails and passed hors d’oeuvres, then they were whisked to the concert via Cooper Atlanta Transportation chauffered executive coach. By “whisked” I mean “a slow crawl in ridiculously thick traffic”. Despite the delay everyone arrived in time for the show.

Once at the park, VIP’s could enter through a side gate and go directly to the hospitality tent where tables of boxed meals labeled “chicken”, “salmon”, or “veggie” were ready to be taken as well as a chili station with fixin’s like shredded cheese, salsa, and sour cream. The chili was good and meaty, and especially comforting with the weather getting a bit nippy.

Both LC and I took a chicken meal, got a beer and made our way to the assigned VIP seats which were, ironically, in the back. Neither of us were hungry but I had to sample what was in the box. Grilled chicken on field greens with champagne vinaigrette, potato salad, enormous blackberries, a roll, and a small brownie. I nibbled on the chicken and salad while LC retrieved more drinks. Everything was super-fresh. Only failure was the crunchy, undercooked potatoes in the salad. The chewy brownie more than made up for it. I wish I knew who was responsible for the catering but there is no hint on the website. I thought they did a very good job, although I’ve heard reports they ran out of food later. (Note to complainers: You might want to consider arriving on time. Food isn’t unlimited).

We took a bathroom break in the designated VIP bathroom trailers, then made our way through the crowd to the stage just in time for The Eagles. Familiar aromas wafted through the air as the band launched into spooky favorites like Hotel California and Witchy Woman. Great show!

Home cooked meals don’t have to be all home cooked. It’s not the ’60′s anymore honey, we got jobs now!

A couple of years ago I met Sandra Lee, the queen of semi-homemade, at the South Beach Wine & Food Festival in Miami. Rumor has it she’s a little on the wild side. Some of her autrocities were clearly concocted while tripping like the now-infamous Kwanzaa Celebration Cake.

Regardless, using some store bought parts is just smart cooking. So when recently planning a home cooked dinner for a friend I decided to use Sandra’s strategy.

I put together a lovely spread of cheeses and accompaniments to nibble on as the appetizer, perfect with a bottle of Marquis Philips Sarah’s Blend.

A rotisserie chicken from Whole Foods would be the centerpiece with baked sweet potatoes and fried green tomatoes on the side. Obviously the only thing I had to do with the sweet potatoes was to wrap them in foil, leaving the bulk of the real cooking for the green tomatoes.

You might think the chicken requires no work but that would be incorrect. My complaint with Whole Foods rotisserie chickens is that they are often missing lots of skin which is the best part! If the skin is intact it is soggy, not crispy. What can you expect when it’s getting all steamed up inside a bag? So I always put the bird under the broiler for a bit to make the skin crispy.

Thankfully, this was my third batch of fried green tomatoes. Even after having most of the bottle of wine, I found my technique fool-proof.

It wasn’t the prettiest meal but it was really delicious. The chicken’s skin was intact (until I got my hands on it!), and the sweet potatoes were a wonderful sweet and buttery counterpart to the tangy fried green tomatoes.

So do like Sandra says and “Keep it simple, keep it smart, and always keep it semi-homemade!” Then do like Sandra does and have a cocktail.

When anyone asks my opinion on the best new restaurant in Atlanta, I invariably say Miller Union. Not only for its cool yet comfortable atmosphere but for its fresher than fresh local produce and chef Satterfield’s creative takes on simple Southern dishes.

I fell in love with Miller Union on my first visit with B, seduced by the fragrant broth that surrounded clams in a big white bowl, lured in by the richness of an egg baked in celery cream, comforted by the warm embrace of a rustic pear tart. Yes, every dish we had was truly stellar.

That was in the Winter. In fact, it was snowing the night we dined there. I mention this for two reasons: my folly in judging any restaurant based upon one visit is becoming evident, and I simply don’t like Summer menus nearly as much as Fall ones.

With a first meeting like that, disillusionment was sure to follow. Common sense would tell you that multiple visits to a restaurant, or anywhere for that matter, affords a more rounded experience, and therefore allows one to make a qualified assessment of the food, the wine, the service, the scene. But me, I’m the idiot that falls in love on the first date. Then I find out he is unemployed, married, stupid, or all of the above.

My second date with MU didn’t go quite as well as our first. It started off promising with an exceptional blueberry cocktail called Tangled up in Blue. Wanting to introduce my friend BB to my new love, I had high hopes that they, too, would find affection for one another.

Seasonal menus like MU’s feature local produce so naturally one finds awesomeness like apples, sweet potatoes, and Brussels sprouts in the Fall and Winter. Likewise, Summer menus are ripe with tomatoes, corn, and okra.

There is a special place in my heart for okra. I grew up eating fried okra just picked from the garden. My grandma, who was as Southern as poke salad, taught my Mom how to make it properly. Just like fried green tomatoes, I have a real disdain for improperly cooked fried okra.

But first things first. Seated at the bar, BB and I started off with a pork terrine served with pickled okra and their fantastic toasted bread. Not terrible although BB thinks he can find a comparable terrine at Publix.

The magical farm egg baked in celery cream also awaited my lips. I took a knife and pierced its soft yellow yolk, spreading the sublime mixture on the crispy sourdough. Pure heaven.

BB and I decided to split an entree. This is where things went downhill as we noted practically every dish featured corn and/or tomatoes. Fish and tomatoes don’t work for me so that automatically eliminated all the fish dishes. As we made our way down the list, we decided upon the chicken. And God help me if it didn’t come with tomatoes too, disguised as eggplant caponata! The dish was simply prepared. Too simple.

Our side of okra literally took me aback. Chefs deserve plenty of room for creativity. I don’t expect every Southern dish to be like my Grandma’s in Tennessee, as long as it’s good. Miller Union’s okra was not good. Whole okra with a thick beige coating (only flour, no cornmeal?) was neither delicious nor authentic. As BB and I nibbled on the deep fried vegetable, he noted how the batter “skin” could be pulled off. Unfortunately I had consumed several of them prior to this discovery.

Another cocktail was ordered and consumed. BB was on his second Pimm’s Cup.

Note: check out my method for making authentic fried okra by clicking here.

Southern desserts. For me, generally unappealling like the hideous traditional banana pudding or sugar bombs like pecan pie. Miller Union offers similar atrocities: coconut cream pie, lemon layer cake. Before eyeing the dessert list I bet my left forearm (yeah, I know that’s weird) that there would be at least one peach dessert on the menu, after all, what could be more seasonal than Georgia peaches?

There was just one, peach shortcake. If I could have chosen anything made with peaches, that would not have been it. So we opted for the two homemade ice creams of the day, ginger and caramel. I found the caramel so cloyingly sweet that I could barely eat it. BB liked it, however, I preferred the ginger. Neither compared to the ingenuity of the thyme, sage, and rosemary ice creams B and I sampled in the Winter.

I’m not going to break up with you MU. But I think we need some time apart, like maybe three or four months.

999 Brady Avenue NW 678-733-8550

For the second year in a row I ended up at Shaun’s during the Inman Park Festival. Last year I made a reservation. My previous experiences at Shaun’s were not spectacular so I thought this was a prime opportunity for the restaurant to redeem itself, despite the burden of the festival crowds.

I’ve yet to be impressed. In fact, neither last year’s or this year’s visit was nearly as good as my first visit. I remember having the shrimp and grits then, seated in the front room by the bar when it was still used as a dining room. The dish was so incredibly rich that it almost made me nauseous. But it was impossible to deny that the shrimp were perfectly cooked, the flavors were pure Southern comfort, with a stick of butter.

Last year my companion and I, seated in the main dining room opposite the semi-open kitchen, shared the Sardinian flatbread that Doty has become known for since his Mumbo Jumbo days. Basically a huge cracker topped with arugula, cheese and olive oil, with occasional variations. Our flatbread was supposed to have goat cheese but we got parmesan instead….not even a reasonable substitution, but I chalked it up to their being so busy. We also ordered the Berkshire pork buns….sliders with pork. I can’t remember if it was shredded pork but I do remember that they were rather uninspired. Our entrees were so boring I don’t recall them at all. But I do remember the dessert, the sticky toffee pudding. A dry clump of cake doused with a cloying sweet (and I guess sticky) toffee syrup. Just plain bad.

Doty was one of the first young Atlanta chefs to re-introduce diners to liver. After 3 1/2 years in business (I swear it seems like 7) he still serves his chopped liver, East Village style, and the chicken liver fettuccini. I hate chicken liver so I won’t be sampling those dishes, although it is possible that my companion last year ordered the chopped liver, after all, he is a New York Jew.

This year LG and I stopped by purely by chance, hoping to score a table outside for a drink. It took me 20 minutes to get her mojito and my mimosa, but the weather was great and the people watching was entertaining. Promptly at 5:00 we were asked to move, so we took a table in the pretty, yet secluded, back patio. Seated on mod plastic chairs next to a wall of jasmine, the setting was very pleasant.

We ordered a bottle of Lambrusco bianco. Sold out. LG ordered a prosecco and I ordered another Mistral Mimosa. Sold out of anything sparkling. After years of being centrally located during the festival you would think they would have their shit together by now. How about a glass of tempranillo for me and the simply red for LG? Our server inadvertantly switched them, but we figured it out. She had already delivered a delicious sesame bread basket with butter.

It was Sunday which is pasta night at Shaun’s. For a mere $12 guests can dine on salad, pasta, and dessert. Chopped salad with buttermilk dressing, celery, and sprouts and your choice of goat cheese raviolis with wild nettle pesto, rigatoni with organic turkey bolognese, or spaghetti with marinara and pork meatballs. I almost went with the goat cheese raviolis. They did look good at a nearby table.

But instead, I ordered the roasted chicken. The menu description says “Benton’s smoked ham, black trumpet mushrooms, grilled ramps, smoked olive oil”. So I’m thinking it is perhaps a half skin-on roasted chicken with mushrooms and ramps. Uh, no. I asked if the skin was crispy and our server said “well….not really. But I can request that for you”. Bad idea. The chicken was boneless breasts stuffed with the mushrooms and ham served over a huge plate of polenta and turnip greens. WTF? The beige skin on the chicken was mushy….the farthest thing from crispy imaginable.

The overwhelming issue at Shaun’s is the misrepresentation of dishes on the menu. Or rather, unclear descriptions, substitutions, and missing ingredients. There’s just no excuse, really. Shouldn’t the chicken dish be described as “stuffed chicken breast with polenta and turnip greens”? Even the ramps were missing, but delivered in a side dish. They were scallions.

LG’s burger was ordinary. With Doty’s Yeah! Burger opening any day one would think the burger here would be kickass. Not so much. It was a thick hunk of meat on an ordinary bun with ordinary cheese. Even the promise of duck-fat fries fell flat. I can name lots of trendy restaurants with better fries, regardless of the type of fat they are fried in. I’m not looking forward to reviewing his new burger joint which is on my roster for an upcoming issue of Atlanta’s Finest Dining.

What’s good about Shaun’s? Doty is a trend-setter with his gluten-free dinners and an early supporter of Slow Food and Georgia Organics. That’s about it.

The service wasn’t bad. The food wasn’t bad. It’s just consistently mediocre.

Upscale boutique hotels are springing up all over Atlanta, from midtown’s Georgian Terrace to the newly renovated Ellis Hotel downtown. Each one has a restaurant that serves the hotel guests breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It would seem as though that alone would provide automatic success to these restaurants, however, it isn’t enough to serve out-of-town guests, they need to draw in locals to stay afloat.

The Terrace is serious about local, sustainable produce. Much smaller in scale than Mennie’s Livingston, it is probably easier for chef Joel Young to maintain this level of excellence. B and I recently stopped by the W Downtown to see Bill Hallman and his new cocktail dresses for the waitstaff at the Lobby Bar, then proceeded on to The Ellis for dinner.

Our hostess allowed us to choose our table as the place had pretty much cleared out by the time we arrived. The restaurant does indeed have a terrace, probably fabulous for breakfast and lunch, but a bit chilly for dinner so we sat inside in the adjacent intimate dining area. Chef Joel joined us, chatting about his background and love of local and sustainable dining.

Not a difficult task here in Atlanta with numerous farms providing fresh produce and locally grown proteins to our prestigious restaurants like Woodfire Grill, Dynamic Dish, Livingston, and many more. Chef Joel visits the farmer’s markets each day to find the best of ingredients for the menu at The Terrace, which automatically gives the menu a bit of Southern flair despite chef’s Connecticut roots.

B and I were two hungry chicks upon our late arrival. We started with the Terrace crab cake and sweet potato ravioli. Served upon a large mound of sauteed spinach and muchrooms, the ravioli was almost an entree portion for me, sweet and savory. The crab cake was stellar, exhibiting very little filler and very much chunky crab. But it was the accompanying salad that received my adoration…..just a simple citrus vinaigrette with a sweet note, awesome.

A wonderful bottle of Colores de Sol Malbec was spicy, peppery, yet very smooth and drinkable.

We opted for two entrees, the flatiron steak and the Amish chicken, and two more sides, collards and mac and cheese. Their beef is grass-fed….a big deal to me, having interviewed Bill Kurtis (the dude with the kickass internet commercials right now) who owns a grass-fed cattle ranch in Kansas called Tallgrass. Cattle was meant to eat grass, not corn, so the grass-fed beef is totally free of antibiotics to treat illnesses brought on by grain diets and also naturally rich in Omega 3 fatty acids. We ordered it medium rare, served sliced on a bed of caramelized Vidalia and carrot slaw. I loved the slaw. There was a copius amount so I took it home, having it the next day with sausage balls!

The Amish chicken was served with mushroom risotto. With a crisped skin and tender meat, the chicken was flavorful and paired perfectly with the creamy risotto. B said the collards were some of the best she had ever had (hey, this coming from a Southern girl!), they were mellow and smoky with bacon. The macaroni and cheese was topped with bread crumbs and baked with Lamb Chopper from Cypress Grove in California, the maker of my favorite Humboldt Fog. What could be better? Not a damn thing.

Dessert was determined even before the entrees….bread pudding? Yes sir! I love it, as long as it is not covered with a cloying syrup. True to form, Chef Joel presented a dense bread pudding with raisins, sliced fresh pear beneath it to cut the richness. We also tried the apple cranberry crumble which was so delicious. But the serving was definitely for sharing….enormous! The homemade vanilla ice cream on top was great.

I know folks are daunted by going “downtown”. Stop being a pussy! Parking is valet, the food is phenomenal, the setting is romantic. And if you drink too much you can always get a room there.