Hot Dish Review

A holiday rerun, exactly one year ago….Pizza, and who makes the best, is a subject that elicits a great deal of passion from practically everyone. How can anyone claim to be the best? Some folks like it saucy, others like it dry. My parents like cracker-thin crust while my neighbor prefers hand-tossed. The battle between New York and Chicago styles is legendary, each camp fiercely loyal to their pie.

Antico Pizza Napoletana has received more press, mostly positive, than any other new pizza joint in recent memory. Their artisan pies are STG certified “Verace Artiginale” by the European Commission’s Istituto Mediterraneo di Certificazione.

Owner and pizzaiolo Giovanni Di Palma hails from New Jersey and New York, via his obvious Italian heritage. A visit to his grandparents’ village near Naples inspired him to open Antico in October of 2009, using flour from Molino San Felice made in the village of Cimitile.

Antico means “ancient”, and Di Palma adheres to the methods and traditions of true pizza di Napoli, hand-kneading the dough daily and charring the pizzas in one of three hand-made Acunto ovens, world renowned for their intense 900 degree heat contained by ancient Santa Maria brick and volcanic rock from Mount Vesuvius.

Specific ingredients are required for the pizza to be STG certified, including fresh Mozzarella di Bufala from Campania and San Marzano tomatoes.

LC and I visited Antico last Friday, needless to say with a few preconceived expectations based upon all the hoopla. Housed in a free-standing white brick building, the space is industrial, yet exudes a certain warmth, no doubt from the hot-as-hell ovens, and from the man himself, who brings his passion for pizza to the table every single day.

Still without a liquor license, we picked up a six-pack of Peroni and I toted a chilled bottle of Lambrusco….gotta keep it real! The original main dining area is separated from the kitchen only by the counter where Giovanni and his pizzaioli toss and top the dough. Enough wooden picnic tables are available to seat around 60 people comfortably and there were likely that many there on Friday. Each table has a big roll of brown paper towels and plastic cups. Who needs fancy? We relaxed with our drinks and waited as the speakers belted out Italian opera…..classic.

We tried two pizzas, the first a Margherita, topped simply with Mozzarella di Bufala, fresh basil, and San Marzano tomatoes. I had heard Antico’s pizzas were “wet” so I was a bit worried. I’m not a fan of saucy pizzas, and I like the crust extra-crispy.

Giovanni himself brought it out and cut it at our table. It was a big pie, perhaps 18″, so I was impressed that the center was not soggy. However, the ratio of tomato to cheese was certainly heavy on the tomato. In keeping with the casual service, the pizzas are served on metal sheets on brown paper.

Our second pizza was the Capricciosa topped with mushroom, artichoke, prosciutto cotto, and bufala. LC discovered the condiment table with hot pepper flakes, pickled hot red peppers, and parmesan and got us some of each. We both preferred this pie, especially with the addition of more spice! But I found that once I had eaten the central part of a slice, I was left with about 3″ of crust, so I had amassed a pile of “ends”. LC, on the other hand, ate all the crust, causing him to feel “full of dough” later….LOL.

I was on my third slice when Giovanni pulled up a chair at the end of our table, poured himself a glass of my Lambrusco, and started talking about his passion for pizza, commenting “It’s a lot more than great pizza. Look around the room, everyone’s got a smile on their face. Nobody’s texting, they’re enjoying the experience.” So true.

You may have guessed by now, it wasn’t my favorite pizza ever, but I loved the atmosphere. From the music to the frenetic pace of the smiling pizzaioli in the kitchen, Antico feels authentic. Perhaps I would return for the Bianca, or white pizza, with four Italian cheeses. Or maybe I would try of of their calzoni that are so enormous they are cut into individual servings.

But our experience wasn’t over yet….

The biggest culinary revelation of the evening, and perhaps of the year, was the cannolis. Ever since I ate one at a deli in New York, I’ve hated them. I mean loathe them. Quite a bit has been written about Antico’s cannolis so I knew I would have to try one. I thought we’d just take one home to be polite but Giovanni insisted I needed to eat it immediately after he made it.

Di Palma’s cannolis are fresh. He makes the thin, crisp cookie shells and fills them with old fashioned cream that is remarkably light and ethereal. He brought over two huge cannolis, one with chocolate chips and the other flavored with Nutella. I took a bite. Damn! Not even the same species as those tiny, hard, stale things in New York filled with disgusting frosting.

That was my first real cannoli and I can assure you it won’t be my last. The best in Atlanta? Damn straight. But the battle of the pizza pies will surely rage on.

1093 Hemphill Avenue 404-724-2333 (phone orders accepted)

A lovely dinner….
Pour a glass of wine, sit back and relax folks….this is gonna take a while. Nine courses with wine pairings plus a couple of “gifts from the chef” spanned a solid four hours.

Finding the Quinones Room is somewhat of a treasure hunt….BB and I followed the signs, walked through the breezeway, and down the stairs to the door with the big Q. Neutral curtains parted to reveal an elegant seating area furnished in shades of chocolate and cream. The intimate dining room is to the right with only ten tables covered in white linens. Antique mirrors, Venetian glass chandeliers, and lacquered wood frame chairs with a vintage patina lent a quiet air of Southern moneyed aristocracy.

At first, the service seemed too serious for my taste. There was a selection of water and the delivery of four mini cheese bread sticks before our server, Rafael, introduced himself in a barely audible hush. We would be having the prix fixe menu with the wine pairings….a multi-course marathon that began with a kir royale.

Bread service arrived on a wooden skewer. Various sizes and kinds of bread, from sourdough to onion, complimented by soft, sweet cream butter.

Two mini cheese gougeres were devoured tout de suite, as well as a shot of celery root soup with red onion jam, both gifts from Chef de Cuisine David A. Carson. Little bites that packed big flavor.

Krug Grand Cuvee champagne was poured in advance of our first course. I knew it would be a crudo, something ultra-light. Atlantic blue fin tuna, sashimi style, and Kumamoto oysters were paired with tiny cubes of Asian pear, slivers of radish, the bowl decorated with droplets of shoyu, a type of soy sauce. This would be the only dish I didn’t really enjoy.

For lack of a better monicker, the “drink boy” came by with a 2005 sauternes for our next dish, a foie gras terrine. I commented to BB that I usually prefer foie gras seared. I also noted something peculiar….the drink boy once again short-poured my wine. Perhaps that is a standard practice in fine dining? To pour an almost imperceptibly short glass for the lady at the table.

A square plate came out with a square of the foie gras terrine, accompanied by three, questionably four, preparations of Fuyu persimmon and a little mound of spiced cocoa nibs. There was a persimmon puree, a dollop of persimmon preserves, and a slice of candied persimmon. I believe the streak of orange-y powder along the side was freeze-dried persimmon, but I could be wrong. Each little bite of the decadent foie gras was immaculate, with a smudge of sweet persimmon. What could make it even better you ask? Four baby popovers made with a mild cheese and the slightest hint of sweetness. Heaven.

A row of tiny Nantucket Bay scallops sat upon a cauliflower puree, each one topped with black pearls of caviar. Sauvignon blanc, fresh with hints of grapefruit, paired nicely. Rafael had loosened up as I quizzed him about his former employment. Turns out he has always worked for Quatrano and Harrison, the pair that own Baccanalia, Floataway, Abbattoir, and Star Provisions.

Loup de mer, a simple white fish, was made stunning with its toppings of earthy black trumpet mushrooms and baby potato chips made with fingerlings, all resting on a bed of melted Spring onions. Chardonnay was the obvious choice for wine.

Now things would take a turn for the rich, heavy, dark. Drink boy poured glasses of a 2007 pinot noir from Willamette Valley as the dance of service continued with unwavering steadiness. Truffled cabbage and Jerusalem artichoke provided the creamy base for a chunk of braised veal cheek, so tender it fell apart at the mere sight of my fork. But first BB and I sliced into the crispy veal sweetbreads that crowned the meat, lightly fried in a coating with a hint of nutmeg. He loves sweetbreads. If they were always this good and tender, I can see why. Although small, the braised veal was filling, containing quite a bit of fat. It was a very rich dish.

The menu listed loin of loin next. Huh? We chuckled…..was it loin of lion? Hilarious. Turns out it was venison. Louis M. Martini Reserve cabernet sauvignon was poured….still short. Glazed young vegetables like Brussels sprouts, carrots, and beets were scattered beneath two thick slices of roasted venison, cooked perfectly medium rare. Unlike the veal, there was not a speck of fat, yet the dense meat was succulent and smooth, the outside of the roast coated with a spice rub containing a hint of clove. A dollop of caramelized onion stole the show…I savored every sweet bit of it.

On to the cheese course, a segue into dessert. Cumberland, a medium bodied cheese with little holes, reminded me of fontina. It was paired with Ellijay apples, both preserved and cubed, and young arugula.

Time for dessert wine, what appeared to be a Spanish tawney. Our first dessert (yes, there were two!) was a glass cup layered with cranberries, brown sugar streusel, then toasted meringue, providing intense tanginess, crunchy sweetness, and fluffy chewiness, a crazy combo of textures.

Our final course was two dense cubes of Valrhona chocolate ganache with a small scoop of frozen chocolate custard on the side. The best part of the dessert was the thickened sweet potato puree, sprinkled with crispy chocolate nuggets.

Quinones Room lived up to the hype, the seamless execution a study in precision, both in service and in the food itself. Was it the best meal I’ve ever had? Quite possibly.

1198 Howell Mill Road 404-365-0410

A holiday rerun for your enjoyment (or disappointment, whatever the case may be):
Coming off a six year media love-fest, the guys at Muss & Turner’s, Todd Mussman and Ryan Turner, expanded to Joel’s former space, calling it Local Three. The third partner is chef Chris Hall, a self-taught cook and Atlanta native.

First, I must tell you the directions on their website are completely confusing. I was pretty sure I knew how to get there off I-75, remembering my two visits to Joel years ago. But admittedly, I have a condition I call “direction dyslexia”, so I can’t trust my instincts where directions are concerned. B was meeting me there and helped me get to the parking garage, along with a security officer. Once at the right building, we still had a hard time finding the restaurant. It was a little frustrating.

All the frustration melted away as soon as we walked into the warm and inviting space. There was no hint of its former stuffy self. Taupe and deep purple walls are a soothing backdrop to the rustic wood furnishings, a trio of pig paintings, a velvet Elvis, and soft, flattering lighting. It is gorgeous.

The trio’s sense of humor is immediately evident, not only in the kitschy decor but in the hilarious menu descriptions, like the “chicken liver mousse a.k.a. meat butter”. I love it that they don’t take themselves, or the food, too seriously.

Like at M & T’s, these boys use as much locally sourced produce and meat as possible. From the design of the space to the menu, it’s as if Abattoir and Miller Union had a precocious child. You will notice that every price on the drink menu ends in a “3″.

B and I were excited about our dining experience, having heard only good things about Local Three. We wanted to start off with a glass of red wine, both of us choosing the Guenoc Victorian Claret, described as “a Big One”…..no surprise there!

On to appetizers, we tried a couple of cheeses and two selections of charcuterie because they were made in-house by Mussman and listed under the heading “Notorious P.I.G.”. Gotta love it. Served with pear compote, honey, and crisp flatbread, I liked the presentation, and it was just perfect with the wine.

With the current battle of the Brussels sprouts in full swing, we ordered their crispy Brussels, listed under “snacks”. Stay tuned for a separate post on those.

B became fixated by the menu’s section called “Today” featuring items that are limited in quantity. In particular, she had her heart set on the salad of Hammock Hollow Farms baby Spring lettuce, radish, Blue cheese, and herb croutons. It didn’t excite me, but the salad of Winter greens on the regular “Appetizers” section certainly did. I make my own Winter greens salad so I was curious to see how Local Three’s version would compare.

A compilaton of frissee, dried apricots, cherries, raisins, toasted walnuts, and blue cheese, it was not as good as it sounded due to the salty, lackluster dressing. My salad kicks their salad’s ass. B’s greens also suffered under a over-salted dressing she described as juvenile. Both servings were large enough to share.

For soups we again chose one from “Today”, an irresistible dish called “Hot Crab on Crab Action”, Charleston she-crab soup topped with Alaskan King crab claws. If you are unfamiliar with she-crab soup, it is made with the roe from the female crab (hense she-crab), cream and sherry. The soup is usually rich and creamy but I found this version to be somewhat lighter with an abundance of crab meat, both in the soup and on top. I thought it was very good but B was not impressed.

We also ordered a soup from “Appetizers”, the creamy sweet potato soup, a disappointing puree that B compared to baby food. The smoked bacon, peanuts, and scallions on top did little to salvage it.

B tried the Chesapeake Bay wild striped bass for her entree, while I went with the grilled Cervena venison. Her fish, served with honey roasted turnips, rutabega, escarole, lemon, and dates, hit all the right notes. It was a fantastic dish.

I ordered my venison medium-rare. With black pepper spaetzle, spring Vidalia onion and huckleberry jus, it was a hearty plate. My meat was, unfortunately, on the rare side, and not as tender as one would wish for. A solid Winter dish.

Chef Hall stopped by inquiring about our meal. He’s a big dude. I’m not sure if he knew we were food writers but chances are, he would have visited either way.

B and I rarely skip dessert, this time sharing the pecan pie. My first impression was that it was more crust than filling. A few nibbles of it with the vanilla ice cream on top was more than enough sugar.

I wanted to love it, I wanted the three local pigs to wow us. No doubt, I will try Local Three again, if not only for its owners’ sense of humor and commitment to quality. To quote the menu “you can’t argue with delicious”.

But you can argue with mediocre.

3290 Northside Parkway NW 404-968-2700

Have you been to the Botanical Gardens’ holiday light extravaganza? We haven’t either, although we did try to go. When he couldn’t purchase tickets online, LC called to make sure we could just show up. So we piled into two cars and sat on Piedmont for 30 minutes, just to be told it was sold out.

How can walking through a freakin’ garden be sold out for God’s sake? Nature can’t sell out! Dejected, we headed north on 400, not sure where we would land.

Some of us were hungry, others were not. LC and I had planned on getting food at the Botanical Gardens, but alas, it was not to be. We spotted several potential dining destinations, but we had to keep it simple having two kids along.

Then I spotted On The Border, the Tex-Mex spot that sits in the enormous parking lot in front of Old Navy and Nordstrom Rack in Buckhead. My only previous visit was with AD years ago, and our main purpose was drinking margaritas, so I wasn’t sure what to expect from the food, although I suspected it would be rather unimpressive since this is a chain that has invaded all but 12 states in the U.S.

On The Border doesn’t proclaim to be authentic Mexican. They do, however, offer plenty of dishes one would find in my favorite country….tacos, carne asada, grilled fish. And lots of your Americanized standards like nachos, enchiladas, and a thing called a Big Bordurrito that looks like a Burrito on steroids.

We started with tableside guacamole, and the usual chips and salsa, which would suffice for those that weren’t very hungry. Meanwhile, LC ordered the fish tacos, two big corn tortillas with fried whitefish and slaw. Me and TT tried the “street style mini tacos”….three little corn tortillas with jack cheese and fajita steak served with sliced avocado. The tiny tacos were somewhat reminiscent of those in Cabo, except they had melted cheese and recognizable meat. Both taco meals came with rice and black beans, and were under $10.

I must admit, I was surprised by the freshness, flavor, and quality of the food. No, the corn tortillas were not the best ever, but I’ve had worse at some tacquerias in my neighborhood for double the price.
Not surprisingly, nothing was spicy enough for me and LC, even with the addition of diced jalapenos.

We were stuffed but LC just couldn’t pass up dessert, and neither could I since he wanted the sopapillas, fried dough with a hollow center that one traditionally fills with honey. These came with both chocolate and honey for dipping.

Lucky for us, On The Border wasn’t sold out of taste.

1 Buckhead Loop NE #130 404-816-3171

Sadly, we didn’t celebrate Thanksgiving in Florida this year. It’s much more enjoyable having turkey, dressing, and this awesome dessert while wearing shorts and a T-shirt!

Me and the Bunny made our third visit to my parents’ place in Crystal River, Florida for Thanksgiving, feasting on roasted turkey, cornbread dressing, green beans (canned from their garden, of course), and my Mom’s homemade cranberry relish.

Then there are the sweet potatoes, frozen manufactured patties which we cut up and top with a few pecans and sugar-free maple syrup. I add marshmallows to a section for myself and my Dad. It’s the one anomaly in an otherwise healthy version of the traditional holiday meal. I top my green beans with Durkee Fried Onions to trash ‘em up a bit.

And I bought this superb bottle of red zin (2007 Liar’s Dice) from Murphy Goode, the winery where Atlanta’s very own Hardy Wallace landed that sweet job. We ate like escaped prisoners on a Carnival Cruise!

Then we did the unthinkable….we put on our bikinis (a horrific thought even for the skinniest chick) and went to the pool where I proceeded to get bitten over 100 times by no-see-ums. Yes, they do exist, and in fact, I could see ‘em. The next day I was covered with itchy bites to the extent that I thought I might have chicken pox. Happy Thanksgiving.

We rarely have room for dessert after consuming four helpings of turkey and all the fixin’s, but after a few hours we are ready for something sweet (but not cloyingly so). This recipe has become somewhat of a tradition for us. It’s a great apple cranberry crisp adapted from an Andrew Weil recipe and another similar one from a Prevention magazine.

So here’s the recipe! It’s a bit confusing because many of the ingredients are duplicated for the filling and the crumble topping so it’s best to be sober when you make it.

APPLE CRANBERRY CRISP

For the Filling

3 Cups apples, quartered and sliced thin (about 1/8″)
1 Cup fresh cranberries
1 tblsp. lemon juice
2 tblsp. Triple Sec
1 tblsp. agave nectar
1 tblsp. flour
1/4 Cup light brown sugar
1/2 tsp. cinnamon

For the Crumble Topping

3/4 Cup uncooked 1-minute oats
2 tsp. ground flaxseed
1/4 Cup light brown sugar
1/4 Cup agave nectar
1/4 Cup chopped pecans or walnuts
2 tblsp. flour
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. canola oil

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Spray 9 X 9 glass casserole with oil. Combine dry ingredients for topping and set aside.

Mix all ingredients in the filling and spoon evenly into casserole dish. Add the oil and agave nectar to topping, mixing until all of the dry ingredients are incorporated, then spread it over the fruit.

Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes covered, then 30 minutes uncovered, or until brown and bubbly.

Let cool and serve in individual bowls, topped with whipped cream. Makes about 6 servings. Now pour yourself a nice glass of that zin and enjoy!

Just one of 80 restaurants participating in Taste of Atlanta October 22nd and 23rd!The Niyomkul family is to Thai food in Atlanta what the Bastianich family is to Italian food in New York. Charlie and Nan have given us an authentic taste of Thailand for many years with Tamarind (now closed), Tamarind Seed, and Nan.

Now their daughter DeeDee is at the helm of their latest operation, Tuk Tuk Thai Loft in the Brookwood Hills shopping center. Her focus is on street food, some of the same dishes her grandmother prepared as a street food vendor in Bangkok years ago.

Entering the tiny lobby, one is greeted by a shiny new motorized rickshaw, called a tuk tuk, complete with orange and white leather seating. It is surely a prop for many visitor photo opps, especially after a few drinks.

From there, guests take an elevator to the third floor which opens to reveal a gorgeous space, a brilliant renovation from its former incarnation as Taurus.

Greeted by Thaddeus Keefe, chef DeeDee’s fiance’ and business partner, he gave me a brief tour of the dining room and kitchen, each element brought from Thailand and painstakingly chosen by the couple. Speaking of their decision to open Tuk Tuk, Keefe quipped “We were going to get married but ended up having a baby instead (laughing)”.

Seated by the manager CY at a table next to a large shelf filled with Asian cookies and such in metal canisters, B and I ordered a bottle of red wine. We both loved the restaurant’s sleek decor with dark wood tables and elegant lighting. Each table had one odd chair. Naturally, I chose to sit in the lone tapestry armchair which was quite low, requiring CY to bring me a booster cushion without missing a beat. The staff was just that accomodating throughout our meal.

B joined me for a menu sampling that started off conservative but ended in full-on gluttony. Thaddeus recommended small tastes of several starters, beginning with a single serving of a popular street snack called mieng kum, beautifully presesnted on a spinach leaf with chopped peanuts, lime, ginger, onions, and coconut, the flavor of each ingredient clear and pronounced.

An assortment of skewers were presented, two each of beef, pork, and mini beef meatballs, suspended from a metal frame with dipping sauces below. Both B and I favored the beef with the tamarind chili sauce. A side of sticky rice in a tiny bamboo steamer reminded me of the sticky rice I used to get in New York, the size of a baseball, wrapped in plastic wrap.

The third item from the menu’s small plates was the hoy tod, a crispy omelette with mussels recommended by friends on Facebook. Sounded interesting, but with most things described as crispy, it was battered and fried. It was topped with scallions, cilantro and “three flavored chili sauce”. However, I found the main flavor of the sauce to be sweet. Somehow, I think I would have preferred it un-fried.

Thaddeus suggested yum woon sen, a salad composed of minced seafood and chicken on cellophane noodles with fresh lime, onions and a touch of palm sugar. The sliced raw cabbage served alongside reminded me of larb, however, diners aren’t expected to wrap the meat in the leaves. I really enjoyed the spicy salad with the fresh, crisp cabbage…..yum! (pun intended)

Another recommendation from Thaddeus was the kra pow moo made of minced pork with Thai sweet basil and garlic. A mound of rice on the same plate was topped with a battered and fried egg. B and I like our Thai food spicy as hell. With each subsequent dish, we found the heat becoming more and more intense.

For our final savory dish we chose the Panang curry, substituting shrimp for the beef. Rich and spicy, the fragrant curry was excellent over the jasmine rice, full of plump shrimp.

Long before our visit I had read their menu online. The Bangkok snow cone caught my attention. It sounded like my favorite Vietnamese dessert made with shaved ice, coconut milk, red beans, and jellies. Nothing could stop me from ordering it, not even the six courses I had just consumed!

Well, I wish someone had stopped me. The Bangkok snow cone was horrific. An enormous bowl of shaved ice was drizzled with a bright pink “rose syrup” that tasted like cherry. My experience with red beans in Asian desserts is the sweetened canned variety, however, these were regular beans, and I swear there were garbanzos in there too! Texturally, the jellies were good but could not overcome the abomination of the dessert as a whole.

Please go to Spice Market and order the Thai jewels for a delicious riff on the traditional Asian dessert made with shaved ice. Or better yet, go to any Pho house on Buford Highway and point to the picture of a parfait on the menu for the real deal.

DeeDee suggested the coconut tapioca pudding. B wanted fried bananas too. So the kitchen combined the two for a decadent treat that we both loved!

1745 Peachtree Road 678-539-6181

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.