Hot Dish Review

Having dined and enjoyed some cocktails at Grace 17.20, I was ready to call it an early evening. But the guys had other ideas. JH, who orchestrated the recent PGA Championship at the Atlanta Athletic Club, wanted to drop by Viande Rouge for one more martini. I couldn’t complain since I’m friends with one of the partners and know the manager Brian as well.

The aroma of seared steaks mingling with rich sauces was intoxicating as we entered the dimly lit space. Their dinner service was nearly complete, leaving a few stragglers at the intimate bar. We joined them and ordered three martinis, two “vodka martinis” and one genuine, full-blooded Bombay Sapphire martini for me.

Brian appeared, all dapper in a suit, and we said our hellos. His generous offer of a complimentary Grand Marnier souffle (that he jokingly pronounced soo’ full) would not be turned away. We polished off our first round of martinis as we waited for dessert.

When it arrived, our server/bartender poked a hole in the top with the back of a spoon, then proceeded to slowly pour a little glass of molten creme Anglaise into the center. Three spoons dug in, each bite a combination of crispy crust, airy souffle, and creamy vanilla sauce. Texturally awesome, but I’m not a big fan of citrus in sweets, so I would have preferred a flavor other than orange.

Meanwhile, JH had his eye on the sweet thing across the bar, but she was with her parents.

Dessert was lovely but the next time I walk into Viande Rouge it’s gonna be all about the restaurant’s namesake…. a big bloody steak!

9810 Medlock Bridge Road #900, Duluth 770-623-4959

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

My third dessert last night….These are scrumptious! I think LG introduced me to the little schoolboys (petit ecolier in French). Little schoolboys? Not surprising that I would find them irresistible. They go great with red wines and make a perfect dessert with an impromptu cheese and baguette dinner that I’ve become so fond of. Everyone loves them, even ST.

Petit Ecolier are chic little European biscuits topped with chocolate embossed with a schoolboy in his uniform. The box states, “Our signature design invites admiring glances: deep, dark European chocolate, paired with an oh-so-French butter biscuit. A luxurious cookie and chocolate experience like no other.”

It is true. As the crisp cookie snaps between your teeth, the chocolate begins to melt in your mouth. The textural contrast is brilliant.

Initially I bought the dark chocolate but soon discovered the extra-dark (extra noir), which I took to Thanksgiving dinner at my parents’ place in Florida a couple of years back. They only eat dark chocolate for health reasons, but I’m finding I prefer the flavor of dark to milk these days.

Petit Ecolier are still made in France….how charming! Kroger and Publix carry them so bring some home to your sweetheart for Valentine’s Day (along with some wine, roses, card, and romantic dinner plans that you’ve surely already made. What, no plans? Dude.)

Alright then, just buy ‘em and eat ‘em in the car on the way home. Whatever.

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.

Over a month after the actual day, B and I finally got together for her birthday dinner. We decided on The Sound Table for a variety of reasons, including a chance to visit with owner Darren and savor their kickass Brussels sprouts.

The concept of dinner upstairs, drinks and dancing downstairs has shifted a bit over the last year. Food is mostly served downstairs now, certainly a less intimate setting since the DJ booth is constantly pumping out the beats at a conversation-prohibitive level.

We chatted with Darren (he is English, so one must “chat”), then took our seats at a table along the exposed brick wall. Our peppy server was cute, with tattoos and black-rimmed glasses, offering suggestions for a cocktail to start off our evening.

I chose a drink made with tequila, lime, and maraschino….sort of a fancy margarita without salt, while B ordered a glass of red wine, an obscure varietal that turned out to be rich and deep.

Our perusement of the menu uncovered several disappointing changes. Naturally, the roasted Brussels were off the menu, after all, it is Summer. I had considered trying the Spatchcock chicken, a menu mainstay since the restaurant’s inception, but it too was gone.

Regrouping, we decided to split the green salad composed of local lettuces, blue cheese, and spiced pecans. For my entree, I chose the porkchop with baby peas and greens of some sort, while B ordered the salmon special with baby carrots. For an amuse bouche, we discussed the failures of men….it was a substantial serving, full of grizzle. I needed another drink.

When the salad arrived, I was surprised to see the beautiful green lettuces covered with a creamy dressing. It wasn’t mentioned and seemed an odd pairing with the two toppings. A balsamic would have made more sense, and likely would have tasted better. B described the salad as “not special”.

Then our entrees arrived, all dainty and innocent looking. But beneath the pretty exterior was the harsh truth. My two small porkchops were cooked to the consistency of shoe leather and sat upon flavorless peas and bok choy. Bok choy? I’m rather certain that was not what the menu said. Regardless, I tried to eat a bite or two but B convinced me that I should not eat it. Christ, I hate sending food back!

While not thrilled with her selection, B managed to eat almost a third of her salmon. The skin was left on, a pet peave of mine, which made it extra-fishy tasty and smelling. Two baby carrots were the saving grace of the dish.

My sad chops were replaced by our old standby, the hanger steak, medium-rare. We chose an additional side of squash to make up for the underwhelming veggies that accompanied our entrees. Both of these dishes were winners, especially the baked squash, topped with crispy shallots. The steak is usually drizzled with a good quantity of salsa verde but this one arrived almost naked, so I asked our server for extra on the side.

We were ready for a happy ending so we tried the pistachio pot de creme with mascerated figs….amazingly delicious! We should have skipped the two entrees and went straight for the steak, squash, and two of these desserts!

On another bright note, we took a peek at the new patio out back, which used to be a renegade smoking area. Had we known, we would have chosen to sit out there where conversation wasn’t drowned out by the pulsating music.

483 Edgewood Avenue

Few things can compel a girl to change her eating habits faster than spotting that skimpy bikini in the lingerie drawer a week before a beach vacation! Happy (official) Summer!

Always looking for low-calorie snacks that mimic my favorite calorie-dense treats, I discovered a lighter version of Starbuck’s Javachip ice cream, using Weight Watchers Giant Latte Bars.

With only 90 calories per bar, they are made with low-fat ice cream and coffee. It’s not a super-nutritious product, full of hard to pronounce crap, but it tastes indulgent. I cut the ice cream off the stick and top it with light Cool-Whip. Then I chop a chunk of dark chocolate for chips and sprinkle them on top. Voila!

The total calories are only around 150, depending on how much chocolate I use. Not bad at all.

Something sweet to cool us off in this record heat! News from Caryn at Melissa Libby & Associates:

Slow Food Atlanta Hosts Fifth Annual Ice Cream Social

Bring Your Own Spoon!

ATLANTA (June 2, 2011) — Slow Food Atlanta is hosting its Fifth Annual Old-Fashioned Ice Cream Social fundraiser on Saturday, June 18, at the Peachtree Road Farmers Market. From 12:30 pm. to 2 p.m. Slow Foodies and ice cream fans alike will have the chance to taste their way through dozens of delicious homemade ice creams and sorbets from some of Atlanta’s favorite chefs and home cooks.

This year’s participating chefs come from some of Atlanta’s most well-known restaurants including Spice Market, Morelli’s, YEAH! Burger, Rosebud, Cakes & Ale, High Road Craft Ice Cream, Parish, Miller Union, Murphy’s, Canoe and Five & Ten.

All guests will get the opportunity to vote for the most delicious homemade, not-necessarily-traditional flavor. Winning categories include “Fan Favorite,” “Favorite Classic Flavor” and “Favorite Innovative Flavor”.

Ice cream makers are asked to create an original ice cream or sorbet flavor using local, natural ingredients where possible. Last year’s event drew in almost 200 ice cream lovers of all ages. This year newcomers like Morelli’s, Spice Market and High Road Craft Ice Cream are sure to provide even more unique and delicious flavors.

Tickets for the event are $15 each (children ages 5-10 are $5 and children under five are free), and will earn Slow Food fans a taste of each flavor and a ballot. Proceeds benefit the Atlanta chapter of Slow Food International and the Peachtree Road Farmers Market.

Attendance is limited, so guests are encouraged to buy their tickets early. Tickets are available online or at the Peachtree Road Farmers Market on Saturday, June 4 and Saturday, June 11. In the event of rain, this year’s Ice Cream Social will be moved inside to St. Philips Cathedral.

To help reduce unsightly waste, attending guests are encouraged to bring a spoon from home. $1 compostable spoons will also be for sale for those that forget their spoon.

Sometimes me and LC are just too lazy to leave the house. Like that night a couple of weeks ago after a particularly grueling nap. Sleeping makes me hungry! So I suggested ordering delivery. We both love spicy food so Thai was the perfect choice. Top Spice is nearby and they regularly put menus at my door.

I always order basil rolls as an appetizer. We also decided to try the basil lettuce wraps, a dish that sounds like the traditional Thai dish called larb, made with ground chicken and spices and served with big leaves of lettuce to wrap around the flavorful meat.

From fiery green papaya salad served at a dive in New York to Bangkok style “street food” in a swanky local restaurant, my experience with Thai food is pretty extensive. I often order a Malaysian curry from Top Spice, made with shrimp, okra, and onions or spicy basil sauce with seafood, extra hot. But on that night I had to compromise, so we tried the pork pad prik. Gotta love the name.

Described as “spicy hot”, the dish was an unimpressive mix of peppers, onions, and mushrooms in a sauce that left me yearning for the sweet hotness of spicy basil or the smooth burn of curry. We tempered the heat with plain white rice. They do offer sticky rice, but unfortunately, only as a dessert, with mango. I’ve had it….trust me, you do not want it.

Sharing two appetizers and one entree saved room for dessert so I could not resist an all-time favorite, green tea ice cream. Although I love red bean (azuki) ice cream even more, most restaurants on this side of Buford Highway do not serve it. I retrieved the big container of the light green stuff from the freezer and topped it with whipped cream, then proceeded to eat every bite.

Yes, the food was hot indeed but it was the company that made the evening sizzle.

Baseball is more than just sport. It has proven to be a pivotal force in the history of our country, putting African Americans in positions of adoration and respect at a time when discrimination was commonplace.

Working closely with the Atlanta Braves, my company was invited to attend the Major League Baseball Beacon Awards that took place on May 14th at the Omni’s Grand Ballroom. The Civil Rights Game was played the following day at Turner Field.

This year the award was given to Ernie Banks, Carlos Santana, and Morgan Freeman, three men that have made a difference in promoting civil rights throughout their lives. LC and I made our way to our table where a salad awaited each guest’s arrival. Wine was poured by attentive servers.

Desserts were already presented, providing a temptation throughout the ceremony. Or perhaps it was the proverbial carrot dangling in front of us, intended to keep us awake for numerous speeches. Unfortunately, the facility was air-conditioned to a fridgid 55 degrees, making all the ladies wearing dresses shiver uncomfortably the entire time. If that didn’t keep us awake, nothing would, not even the promise of sugar.

Dressed with a slightly sweet citrus vinaigrette, I was very impressed with the salad composed of field greens, poached pear, herbed goat cheese, and candied pecans. The greens were mostly frissee….my favorite!

Every civil rights leader made an appearance, from Rev. Al Sharpton to Rev. Jesse Jackson. But it was keynote speaker Rev. Joseph Lowery who’s words were both inspiring and entertaining.

Beatifully presented entrees arrived, seared beef tenderloin served with potatoes au gratin and sauteed haricot verts and baby carrots. Serving beef to hundreds of people is tricky at best. Some like it rare, some like it well, but everyone likes it their way. So how is it possible to make a beef dish that will please a crowd? Make sure the meat is tender! This thick cut was well-done yet juicy. Accompanying sides paired nicely.

When we finally made it to dessert, I was somewhat disappointed. Creme fraiche topped with fresh berries filled a cup made of white and milk chocolate. Although it was pretty, the dessert’s downfall was the overpowering flavor of lemon in the creme fraiche which didn’t work with the chocolate and berries.

From the diverse attendees to the well-executed dinner, the event was a success, but it would have been much more enjoyable if I was wearing a parka.

After spending a few hours at the Inman Park Festival, me, LC and his folks had a bite to eat at Pure nearby. Not surprisingly, LC had a sweet tooth and wanted to stop by Paolo’s (click here for my previous full review) for some gelato on the way home.

I knew it was a recipe for certain disappointment, having just returned from Germany where the best authentic Italian gelato can be found on every corner, like at Eiscafe Capri, a stone’s throw from my Oma’s haus.

Paolo’s is so quaint, just like a little gelato shop one might find in Italy. But I have always found the product to be too sweet, too rich, too American. Yet I continue to hope that someday the gelato will magically improve, but alas, it never has.

We went in, mesmerized by the display of gelato flavors behind the glass case. My favorite, stracciatella, was not available so I ordered a cup of cappuccino. LC tried a couple of mini cones and we got a cup of pistacchio for his Dad, which in hind sight, was probably the best flavor on offer.

As for me, my cappuccino was just like any other coffee flavored ice cream. Not bad, just not the light, icy texture of gelato in Europe. I’ve often thought it is the difference in ingredients available here that makes it impossible to duplicate, although it could also be America’s taste for fat and sugar that overrides the need for authenticity.

In the end, Paolo’s makes good ice cream, but it simply isn’t gelato to me.

1025 Virginia Avenue 404-607-0055