Hot Dish Review

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

Recommended by my Godmother’s husband, Pizza Pie (pronounced “pee”) is located in Braunfels, a tiny town just ten minutes from our tiny town, and home to one of my favorite castles. I was excited to get out of the house and spend some time among the antiquities contained within the old stone walls that surround the castle.

Little did I know that the restaurant is not near the castle, but rather a couple of miles away at a tennis center. It’s one of those places with a 15 page menu, with everything from pork to pasta. Oh, and they do serve pizza.

My Mom treated me, my cousin and her two daughters to lunch there after a brief souvenir run by the castle. It took some time to review the lengthy menu but the five of us finally decided on five vastly different entrees.

Three of them ordered salads, one of which was drowned in creamy dressing, the others with dressing on the side. An appetizer of bruschetta looked good but I didn’t get a taste due to the language barrier. Our table received one baked rigatoni, an enormous portion that got good reviews. Another, my Godchild, ordered a Hawaiian pizza. Nothing about it looked good. The crust wasn’t browned, and the toppings of ham, tomato, and pineapple made the center soggy. She didn’t like it.

Mom ordered fish, confirming that it was sauteed and not fried, however it turned out to be breaded. Plain boiled potatoes were served alongside. I tried a bite and was not impressed. My cousin ordered the ham, covered with a brown gravy. She offered me a taste and I was, again, not impressed. She seemed to enjoy it, though.

Lastly, I ordered the pork with mushrooms, croquettes, and vegetables. A strange choice for me, but not as strange as the crepes I almost ordered. The meat was overcooked and drenched in the same brown gravy, this time with the addition of mushrooms. Carrots and broccoli were the chosen vegetables. The potato croquettes were simply glorified tater tots. I swear, nothing on my plate had any flavor except the carrots.

The only other patrons at the restaurant were as weathered as the castle, which explains the old-fashioned menu and somewhat stodgy atmosphere. I’m sure it is better during the Summer when their patio is open, and perhaps after the consumption of a few alcoholic beverages.

The first day of 2011 was rainy and dismal, perfect for sleeping in. Also perfect for a hearty brunch. After coffee and my annual viewing of the Tournament of Roses Parade, LC and I headed to Diesel for food and a little hair of the dog.

With New Year’s Day falling on a Saturday, seems as though it was business as usual at most places. Despite the rain, Diesel was full of its regular young neighborhood crowd. We chose a table on the enclosed patio and ordered drinks, a bloody Mary for him and a mimosa for me.

They advertised a “superstition sampler” comprised of black-eyed peas, collards, corned beef, and cabbage. Maybe later. First I needed breakfast. I rarely pass on eggs Benedict and Diesel’s was made with fried green tomatoes so I had to try it. LC got an omelette filled with almost everything, except he forgot cheese.

Service was excrutiatingly slow. We were on our second round when our entrees came. One of my poached eggs was overcooked, its yolk hard and round. There wasn’t enough Hollandaise sauce either, but there was little chance of getting it before I was finished with my meal. LC’s omelette was luke-warm and there was no butter for his biscuit, which he did manage to get….eventually.

My Benedict was not the traditional composition. Poached eggs, spinach, ham, and the fried green tomatoes were on a split biscuit. Naturally, I found fault with the tomatoes. Sliced too thickly, they were not cooked tender, however, I enjoyed their tangy flavor. Ham paired well but the spinach was nearly unnecessary. And like I said, more Hollandaise would have helped a great deal.

Instead of potatoes, grits, or fruit on the side, I substituted sweet potato fries. I am rather certain they are the ones all restaurants buy, cut wide and flat, they are double fried and extra crispy. Love ‘em.

LC loves bloody Marys. I hate tomato juice. He raved about Diesel’s Mary, not sure what its secret ingredient was….beer perhaps? He insisted I try it as it “didn’t taste like tomato juice”. And he was right, it was good and spicy. My mimosas were also very good with just a splash of orange juice.

After brunch we ordered the superstition sampler to-go….more on that tomorrow!

Advice: do try Diesel for brunch, just don’t be in a hurry.

Driving home from Rosemary Beach on Sunday, ST and I were determined to eat at Phil’s. Our lovely hostess JS had recommended it after making a killer breakfast spread for the second day in a row for her husband’s college buddies and their girlfriends.

Their house is amazing, located just off the trendy 30A near Destin. Fully equipped for a rowdy bunch of frat brothers. Difference between then and now? Twenty plus years and lots of money. Kegs have been replaced with micro-brewery beers and bottles of wine, the rowdiness reduced to civil gatherings reminiscing about the rowdiness.

Back to the Q. Growing up in the South you would think I’ve had lots of BBQ. Not so much. I’m far more familiar with Thai food than BBQ. SS and I used to go to Daddy D’z on Memorial quite often back in the day but I’ve never even stepped foot in Fat Matt’s Rib Shack.

But JS said to get the Q at Phil’s. And Phil’s is in Eufaula, the only point of interest during the entire 5 1/2 hour drive between Atlanta and Rosemary Beach. Once past the divided lanes with Spanish moss and antebellum architecture, ST and I had our eyes peeled for Phil’s.

I spotted the sign and we pulled in, anticipating some pretty darn good Q, appropriately served in a dive complete with rolls of paper towels on the tables. Guests order at the counter. With an unfamiliar menu, this always puts me in a mini-panic….I like to study a menu before making a decision.

There was a meat plate with two sides that I thought we could share, after all, we were there for the meat. But ST ordered the smokehouse special sandwich, a double fister that included cheese, ham, turkey, and pork….a very meaty sandwich with lettuce, tomato, and their own special sauce (not BBQ sauce, I’m pretty sure it was mayo).

Griddled and greasy (not a complaint), we downed the scrumptious meat sandwiches, trying a variety of BBQ sauces on the table. Their sauces were mustard based and didn’t have a hint of heat, unfortunately. A bottle of Texas Pete’s provided the only kick, but I would have preferred a homemade spicy BBQ sauce.

If I was hungover, this would have been the perfect cure! Great recommendation, thanks JS.

Located on Decatur’s historic square, this restaurant is the latest from the Castellucci family that owns Sugo. An extensive selection of Spanish inspired tapas and plates are offered. Me and ST sampled our way through the menu, essentially eating like pigs, starting with charcuterie, jamon Iberico, the expensive Iberian ham and the restaurant’s namesake.

Our server Mary Quinn suggested a creamy sheep’s milk Spanish cheese called camedeoveja. Spread on the crispy toasted bread, it was delectable. Cheese and ham were served on wood cutting boards with mustard and tiny green olives.

The space is warm, furnished in dark wood, exposed brick, and deep red velvet curtains. Lighting is soft and flattering, perfect for a romantic evening with ST.

Chef Chad Crete was very gracious, bringing us a few of the bacon wrapped dates stuffed with manchego cheese and walnuts, resting in a romesco sauce. OMG. I could eat fifty of those!

There were so many amazing sounding dishes on the menu, like the tocino con manzana….slow braised pork belly with a salad of Granny Smith apples and candied walnuts dressed with a drizzle of apple cider reduction. Fatty crispy pork belly was yummy but I detected a hint of something not yummy….the tiny chiffonade of green on the apple salad, was it mint? I hate mint.

Which brings me to the sangria. The best in town is at Pura Vida, hands down. Still. I ordered the bottomless glass at The Iberian Pig for $21. Served in pint glasses, I suspect there is more juice than rum or wine. What I love about Pura Vida’s sangria is that it has chunks of fruit soaked in rum. Eat them and you will feel it! Sangria at Pura Vida is not for pussies.

While sipping the sangria at The Iberian Pig I once again detected a hint of flavor that was familiar yet somehow just plain wrong. Then I saw it….a slice of cucumber! Cucumber in sangria? Don’t ask me. ST ordered the “pretty darn good” red wine and it was, in fact, pretty darn good….2004 Marco Real Garnacha Navarra from Spain.

Next up on our trail of tapas was the BBQ octopus and the huevos con trufa. Both recommended by a friend of MN. The best part of the octopus was the stringy pork belly underneath. For some reason I thought BBQ meant grilled. No, it means with BBQ sauce, which I didn’t really care for. It was served with crunchy potatoes that I did not eat lest they take up space in my stomach where I could put something delicious, like more pork.

Huevos con trufa is a huge chunk of slow roasted pork with rustic toasted bread topped with a poached egg and black truffles. Remember, these are tapas folks. But the Castelluccis are known for ample portions. The pork was fork tender, ridiculously good. Break the egg yolk and dip the crusty bread in it, making sure to pick up a bit of truffle which was made into a tapenade. Decadent, rich, hell yeah!

Chad delivered another delicious surprise, their albondigas. Wild boar sausage meatballs stuffed with piquillo peppers, dates, and roasted tomatoes, finished with pimento creme and oyster mushrooms. I would not have ordered this but it was great, the flavorful meat pairing perfectly with the sweetness of the dates and the earthiness of the sauce.

Jesus Christ! An enormous serving of baked manchego mac ‘n’ cheese came out and a sampler of three sausages….lamb with macerated cherries, fennel sausage with caramelized onions, and chorizo with moscatel wine reduction and romesco, which was the standout among the trio. We couldn’t polish off all of them so they went in a recycled to-go container along with one of the two meatballs.

After all of those entree-sized tapas we had an actual entree coming, the cabrito carbonara; slow roasted goat with chittara pasta tossed in a carbonara sauce with Benton’s bacon, cream and topped with yet another poached egg. Mary Quinn instructed us to break the egg and mix in the yolk to complete the sauce. I found the pasta a bit too al dente, however the meat was succulent, the flavor of the dish was outstanding.

By now I was on my fourth glass of sangria. Despite the cucumber, I didn’t seem to have a problem getting my money’s worth out of the bottomless glass.

A selection of gelatos for dessert….the best was the fig and cherry, followed by the pistachio and the dulce de leche. I found the texture to be pretty authentic as far as gelato goes, the dulce de leche a bit too sweet.

We gave our leftovers to the “homeless” kids outside. They said they were hungry. I guess their Mothers in their million dollar mansions don’t really cook. Poor things.

Next time I will try one of the flatbreads. A neighboring table had one and it looked extra thin, crispy, and drool-worthy. The food isn’t authentic Spanish, however, having recently visited Spain….Barcelona and Mallorca…..I found these dishes more to my liking, perhaps because they were not so simple like in Spain. Regardless, I liked this place with its rich sauces, overdone flavor combos, and Italian riffs mixed with Spanish inspiration. It worked for me!

121 Sycamore Street, Decatur 404-371-8800 www.iberianpigatl.com