Hot Dish Review

Please enjoy this repost as I am recovering from my trip, and the mostly horrendous food, at The Kentucky Derby:

Half a bag of cheddar goldfish, Fruit Loops and warm beer were the only edible items left in our room. Sounds more like the breakfast of losers than the breakfast of champions.

Around noon, LC and I checked out of the swanky motor lodge on the outskirts of Athens and hit the road back to Atlanta, still recovering from the Widespread show and its aftermath. An hour into the drive and we were ravenous.

Then, just like a mirage, a Waffle House appeared in the distance. It sat alone, perched on a hill at a traffic light in Dacula.

There are two kinds of Waffle House dining experiences….post clubbing at 3:00am and “the morning after” hangover breakfast. Of all the times I have eaten there, the meal has always fallen into one of those two categories.

Friday was obviously the latter, although neither of us was actually hungover. We chose a booth by the window and ordered coffee. I love their kitschy laminated menus with photos of the food…everything looks so delicious!

My regular Waffle House order is like a broken record; scrambled eggs with cheese, bacon, raisin toast, and grits on the side. I rarely eat any of the grits, just don’t want them to contaminate my eggs. If I don’t order this I get a fried egg and cheese sandwich with bacon….good stuff.

LC ordered an omelette with onions, jalapenos, green peppers, bacon, and cheese with hashbrowns, scattered, smothered, and covered. He was very pleased with his omelette. In fact, he was still talking about it days later.

The diner franchise is celebrating 55 years in business, with strikingly consistent food from Hollywood to Dacula. It is always exactly the same….just like the pictures on the menu. My bacon was thick and chewy and the eggs were very cheesy. The toast was full of raisins and slathered with margarine. No real butter here missy!

LC and I added sugar, margarine, and black pepper (indeed!) to the grits making them somewhat edible. Another splash of coffee and we were on our way, fueled by fat and caffeine.

It was a good day.

A week before AD’s visit, I ran across a coupon for Agave, one of her favorite restaurants in Atlanta, and one that I’ve often mentioned to LC, but never visited with him. It was a sign. Now was my chance to revisit this Southwestern staple.

AD arrived with her former colleague DR, finding us already seated at a a table on the secondary patio. Chips and salsa were delivered quickly, but subsequent drink service was much too slow for folks craving tequila. LC and I tried the jalapeno skinny margarita, while they went with the regular variety.

LC and I prefer restaurants that aren’t shy about heat. Don’t you just hate it when a dish is described as “spicy” and it comes out bland? Or when you ask if it is spicy and the server assumes that is a bad thing and says something like “oh no, it’s not very spicy”. I always respond with “that’s too bad, I would have ordered it”. As delicious as Agave’s food usually is, I warned LC of Agave’s somewhat wimpy reputation in the spice department.

Traditionally, AD has always ordered the spring rolls to start and I had to have some guacamole. DR ordered ceviche that was beautifully presented in a martini glass, while LC was intent on trying the New Mexico hatch green chile stew.

The spring rolls, made with shrimp, cabbage, serranos, and roasted poblanos, are a crispy sweet treat, but I was truly impressed with the stew, thick with potatoes, onions, corn and tender chunks of beef….and it was spicy!

Every time I’ve eaten at Agave I leave stuffed. Too stuffed. Once, AD and I shared the spring rolls and a fish entree and we still had to be carried out on a stretcher. So on this visit I opted for an appetizer of grilled beef and shrimp. LC ordered the lone item that I wouldn’t even taste….meatloaf, while AD stuck to her favorite fried chicken. We got an additional side of poblano grits for sharing.

My dish was pleasingly petite, with thin slices of medium rare tenderloin and plump grilled shrimp. It was the huge dish of fiery grits that was my downfall. Ironically, AD’s chicken wasn’t as spicy as it had been in the past. LC enjoyed his entree and I was so engrossed with the grits that I don’t even remember what DR ordered.

Room for dessert? No way, Jose’!

242 Boulevard SE 404-588-0006

While the storm was raging outside on Sunday, LC and I found refuge at a diner with a retro decor called All American Diner. I was thinking brunch, as in eggs benedict or a nice frittata. What I got was a Waffle House style diner breakfast with the added classy touch of the breakfast buffet.

I remember a time when buffets were popular….when I was a kid. Shoney’s had a breakfast buffet. All you can eat bacon….how could that be anything but awesome?

These days, the word buffet is about as appealing as pork sushi. But not in Florida’s panhandle! Time stands still there, and apparently LC is right at home. He was eager to get a plate full of whatever, while I ordered the standard scrambled eggs with cheese, bacon, and wheat toast. Grits came with it despite my objection.

LC came back to the table with a combination of eggs, sausage, grits, and various other indistinguishable items. And what goes better with a breakfast buffet than a fountain Mountain Dew?

He enjoyed it because he got to try everything, then felt sick later. Shocking. Most of the other diners looked like they had been eating at the buffet on a regular basis.

As for me, my bacon was chewy, my eggs were cheesy, and my toast was dark. Good enough.

15406 Front Beach Road 850-233-6007

Once again, our group went out for breakfast. This time LC opted to join us rather than eat our leftover pancakes. I mean flapjacks. Whatever.

Naturally, the kids ordered sugar, in the form of French toast for little T and a cute bear shaped pancake for little A (note the actual ice cream scoop of butter!). The adults tried a smorgasbord of fat-laden breakfast items like cheese grits with butter, sausage and Southwestern omelettes, country ham, and the ubiquitous pancakes, slathered with butter and syrup. It is common knowledge that I hate cake. Same goes for pancakes….I just don’t care for anything fluffy, doughy, or cakelike. I do like crepes, though. That’s what my Mamma used to make!

I must commend Flapjacks for their healthy menu section. I almost ordered an egg white omelette, but instead was drawn to the bacon and egg sandwich on toasted sourdough with lettuce, tomato, and mayo. Unfortunately, I failed to notice the sandwich lacked the all-important cheese.

But it would have sucked even with cheese. I have a thing about toasted bread. It should be crunchy, not soggy. It should be toasted! This sandwich was slopped on soggy sourdough. The copious amount of chewy bacon was awesome, so I ate it with the fried egg, lettuce, and tomato.

Luckily, I also ordered an extra-crispy waffle to be brought out after I ate my sandwich. It was delivered right on cue. I like my waffles almost burnt, so this one could have used another minute in the press. Dipped in syrup, it was a decent breakfast dessert.

Flapjacks is homestyle country cookin’, which in these parts, is the only kind of cookin’. Just put a pat of butter on it, honey.

2734 Parkway, Pigeon Forge 865-908-6115

Nacoochee Grill is one of those restaurants where I’ve eaten dozens of times. It is located in Helen, Georgia, where my parents live part-time and at least one of them has accompanied me on each of those visits. Sometimes a friend of mine, or theirs, joined us, but my last meal there was with LC on our way back to Atlanta from Lake Burton.

We were passing right through downtown Helen at dinner time so I talked him into going to Nacoochee. The last time we went to Helen we tried to eat there, but the wait was an hour so we opted to go elsewhere. But on a Sunday night we had better luck….if you can call it that.

I like to sit in the original dining room on the right, a space with lots of windows in this renovated old house. This time, however, they sat us in the brightly lit room on the left. The downhome atmosphere seemed to be lacking in this somewhat sterile room.

A look at the menu brought more disappointment. The new owner had changed the menu, taking off many signature dishes and adding pedestrian crap like chicken wings. Sure, I understand the redneck appeal of wings, but Nacoochee was the one restaurant in town that had elevated itself to serve “cuisine”.

There used to be fantastic entrees like jerked mahi mahi with mango salsa and Asian glazed duck. Each entree was served with a choice of two sides, including Southern favorites like collard greens and baked sweet potatoes. We always got a salad as one side, served with their amazing honey balsamic dressing.

Well, now the entrees only come with one side. Thankfully, they still make their signature house dressing, but the salad is a fourth the size. LC had one with his blackened tilapia, but now the entrees only come with one side, so his piece of fish sat alone on the big plate, save for an XL serving of green tomato salsa. Just sad. However, the fish was seasoned and cooked perfectly over their live fire grill.

But first, we ordered an appetizer, something me and my parents never do. LC wanted to try the grits fritters, a combination of grits and cheese lightly breaded and fried, then finished with a drizzle of mustardy sauce. They were surprisingly not greasy, the crisp shell holding a sublime and creamy filling.

Another old favorite was the French country salad. I’ve had it often for lunch with my Mom. Field greens with blue cheese, walnut halves, onions (which I remove), and big chunks of chewy bacon, with bacon vinaigrette. I decided to have it for dinner, topped with grilled shrimp.

The plate of leafy field greens was nearly as big as before, topped with plenty of blue cheese crumbles. Two skewers of flavorful, plump grilled shrimp distracted me so I didn’t notice the lack of bacon until it was too late. Tiny bits of walnuts didn’t compare to the big halves that used to adorn this salad. On the contrary, there was no shortage of raw onion which I failed to have left off. House honey balsamic dressing was as good as ever.

Knowing what Nacoochee Grill used to be, and what it is now, just makes me sad. I think it’s called sellin’ out.

7277 South Main Street, Helen 706-878-8020

LC and his entire family are University of Kentucky alumni, so you can imagine his grief at last week’s horrific showing in the Final Four. However, earlier, in the midst of March Madness, we watched them clobber West Virginia at 8 Traxx with a big UK alumni group. Good times!

Prior to the game, we dined at the neighboring tapas and wine restaurant, Cellar 56. The experience of sharing a variety of small plates is both fun and intimate, one of my favorite ways to dine.

The menu at Cellar 56 offers tastes from garden, land, and sea, ranging from $5 to $7. We started with drinks and a warning to our server that we were anxious to get to the big screen for the game, not that it wasn’t obvious from our bright blue UK T-shirts!

LC and I chose four tapas. Grilled flatbread with duck confit, fig jam, and Cabrales blue cheese came out first, just two triangles. Toppings were generous and flavorful, a great combination of sweet, rich, and tangy, but I could see that four plates might not be enough for dinner.

Luckily, a runner delivered our order of Georgia white shrimp, tasso gravy, and Logan Turnpike grits, along with a seared scallop on sweet corn with applewood bacon, which we did not order. By the time our server came back around we had scarfed down the lone scallop. I’m not a corn lover, so it was just OK for me. Perfectly cooked large shrimp paired with creamy grits were more impressive.

A bowl of baked macaroni and cheese with green chile and prosciutto was next, providing the requisite creamy, cheesy comfort food experience. My dish of lump crabmeat, avocado and grapefruit was a disappointment due to its lack of crabmeat. Apparently, it was so lackluster that I forgot to take a photo.

When all was said and done, we were still left wanting, despite the bonus scallop. Just then, the same runner delivered a second duck confit flatbread by mistake. Voila! Problem solved.

I doubt I will return to Cellar 56, unless I’m attending an event nearby. Not bad, just not memorable.

56 East Andrews Drive 678-344-3600

Here’s an ironic post….me telling you to go get some grits! Historically, not my favorite food. In fact, although I grew up in Tennessee (honey, I mean in the woods!) I never tried grits until me and my Mom got them at Denny’s in Palm Springs, of all places. They came with our breakfasts of eggs, bacon, and toast, we didn’t order them intentionally. Once faced with the shallow bowl of white-ish mush we didn’t know what to do with them….should they be salty, sweet?

We decided to melt a little butter on them and sprinkle with sugar. No flavor was detected (other than the butter and sugar). Experiment fail.

Rather than a flavor-packed grain, grits are merely a vehicle for flavor. At restaurants like Rathbun’s and Dogwood that vehicle is a Mercedes, unlike the ’76 Pinto at Denny’s.

Dogwood’s grits are so creamy and delicious! Made with Red Mule yellow stone ground grits from Athens, GA, they offer them with several topping options that change seasonally including choices like Brunswick stew, crawfish butter, or pimento cheese, to name a few.

I have a coupon to try some for free but I can’t seem to attach it! If you want the coupon just comment on this post and I will email it to you!

565 Peachtree Street 404-835-1410

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.

I’m a Southern girl. Sorta. My Mom is German, my Dad is American and I grew up in a small town in Tennessee.

Although my Dad’s family was poor, they ate remarkably healthy. They grew what they ate….green beans, corn, squash, tomatoes, everything. The chickens that ran around the coop could easily end up on the dinner table, having already provided their eggs for breakfast.

Fast forward to my childhood. My Mom was a health nut, always looking for ways to modify Southern favorites. She substituted low-sodium chicken broth for regular in my Grandma’s cornbread dressing. Later, she started using Egg-Beaters instead of whole eggs. Just suble changes, the same great flavor, better nutrition. We ate from the garden in the Spring and Summer, canned green beans for the Winter. I loved okra, poke salad, fried green tomatoes, and sweet taters….and still do!

So what most folks consider Southern cooking is somewhat unfamiliar to me (by most folks I mean yankees). There were no grits or casseroles in my house, no fried chicken or macaroni and cheese.

What I’m getting at is I don’t like typical Southern food….the artery-clogging butter-laden Paula Deen fare. I tend to avoid any restaurant that is even remotely Southern. However, ST had a nice gift card for Dogwood. I had been wanting to go since they opened, having perused the menu, despite its Southernish pedigree.

The space is beautiful with big photos of Dogwood blossoms, white tablecloths, and soft, romantic lighting. I started with a glass of the peppery Hullabaloo zin and ST got a Negra Modelo.

Their specialty is the grits bar. Not a bar at all, but rather specifically Red Mule yellow stone ground grits from Athen, GA topped with one of three toppings: Brunswick stew, pimento cheese and Benton’s fried ham, or braised mushrooms and shaved parmesan. ST likes grits and I felt compelled to try them so we got the Brunswick stew topped bowl. Super creamy, they seemed to have some cheese in them. I could eat a ton of this stuff!

Another Southern thing I don’t like is biscuits. Dogwood’s bread service was reminiscent of biscuits….kudos for creatively making that connection without serving actual biscuits. The crust was crunchy and it was hot out of the oven, admittedly pretty good, although it would have been better with unsalted butter.

We split the grilled baby romaine salad with smoked bacon, blue cheese, Fuji apples, dressed with a creamy red wine vinaigrette. It was awesome, probably my favorite dish of the evening.

My starter of roasted Georgia quail with cornbread-andouille stuffing with country ham butter and mushrooms was really good. The skin was somewhat crisp, a solid flavorful dish.
ST ordered the crispy gulf oysters with caramelized fennel-onion jam, and fried shiitakes. I’m not a big fan of oysters but tried one of the four. I was a big fan of the sweet caramelized onions.

For our entrees ST ordered the Painted Hills NY strip, medium, served with duck fat potatoes and I had the (no surprise here) local honey glazed Ashley Farms duck breast with sweet potato and poached pears.

His steak was huge and delicious. The leftover meat became steak and eggs for breakfast. My duck was the best I’ve had in a long while and as you all know, I eat a lot of duck. Cooked medium, the skin was crisped, the thick slices displayed atop pureed sweet potatoes and poached pears. The best part, however, was the surprise of a bit of honeycomb. Fucking awesome!

Our dessert was a modern take on s’mores…..chocolate creme brulee with a dollop of torched marshmallow, and a graham cracker biscotti. I didn’t taste much graham flavor in the biscotti, it would have been better with just plain ol’ graham crackers like the ones Grandma used to keep in her cupboard.

Ingredients like Georgia mountain trout, pecans, hominy, pimento cheese, peanuts, and grits sound Southern but don’t let the menu fool you. This is upscale dining. My Grandma never made blood orange fumet or sauternes sabayon.

If Atlanta restaurants keep blowing me away with modern comfort food (like Miller Union) and kickass “Southern” fare, I may just consider myself converted.

565 Peachtree Street 404-835-1410