Hot Dish Review

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1123 Zonolite Road 404-892-1414

When I visited my folks in Florida last Thanksgiving, we stopped by Neon Leon’s for a drink after dinner one night. I didn’t get a chance to sample their Cajun cuisine so it was on my hot list a couple of weeks ago when LC and I made the trip South.

The restaurant’s neon, beads, and live zydeco music on the weekends make it the obvious choice for a Mardi Gras celebration any time the mood strikes.

It was a Friday night and the place was packed with locals. Men in T-shirts and caps dined on plates of fried anything, raising their cans of PBR after each song. We were seated unfortunately close to the stage, making converstion nearly impossible.

My Dad doesn’t waste any time when it comes to food, ready to place his order before we were seated. Me and both of my parents ordered the trio of Cajun favorites….seafood gumbo, etouffee, and jambalaya. I was hoping the dishes would be spicy and ordered a Corona Light to quench the fire. LC was the lone holdout, going for the blackened grouper special, with fried okra on the side.

Even though fried green tomatoes are really a side dish, like so many other restaurants, Neon Leon’s offer them as an appetizer. The menu says “can’t get ‘em anywhere else”. I was compelled to try them, although I suspected they would be heavily breaded. I was right, and glad I wouldn’t be able to get them anywhere else. The ones I make at home are a thousand times better.

Aside from Cajun classics, Neon Leon’s specializes in char-grilled steaks. They also have some unusual items, frog legs and gator tail in particular.

LC’s fish was perfectly grilled and seasoned, however his fried okra was as disappointing as the fried green tomatoes, with a batter so heavy it completely masked the flavor of the vegetable.

Our Cajun samplers came out with three bowls inexplicably sitting upon a scant bed of field greens….likely the only use for lettuce at this restaurant. The contents of one bowl was beige. It was the etouffee. My Mom described the sauce as pasty and I agreed.

We each received a dish of dirty rice which I added to the gumbo, along with a few drops of hot sauce. Plump shrimp and okra came together for an authentic and tasty soup. Another bowl contained a deep red soup, the jambalaya. Full of red beans, shrimp, sausage, and chicken, this dish was definitely my favorite. It was spicy enough without the addition of hot sauce.

I can’t pass up bread pudding for dessert. Topped with vanilla ice cream, the pudding was exceptionally dense with an overwhelming flavor of nutmeg. Not so great, but the four of us polished it off.

Neon Leon’s is truly a hidden gem, tucked away in the woods in the middle of Florida, but it’s clear that lots of folks have found it over the years, making it a destination for Cajun food and entertainment.

10350 W. Yulee Drive, Homosassa, FL 352-621-3663

The expectations that come with a name like Tantra are hard to ignore….dining there would be a sensual experience. But just how sexy can food be? Sure, there would be raw oysters and cocktails with tantilizing names like the Forbidden Fruit. The space was dimly lit, as expected. Red velvet banquettes and chairs….check. Kama Sutra-esque artwork….check. The atmosphere was adequately sultry.

LC joined me, seated at a table in the main dining room. I was hoping for a secluded booth, perhaps with curtains, so we could feed each other succulent morsels in privacy. Starting off with specialty cocktails, I tried the Gigi, a bubbly drink made of prosecco, Gran Marnier, and blood orange juice, while he ordered a drink called Exuding, Stoli Vanilla mixed with almond milk and cinnamon. Both were yummy.

The internationally inspired menu by chef Terry Dwyer features middle Eastern flavors and spiced up American classics. LC and I started with three appetizers. Paneer and mushy pea samosas with a cilantro yogurt sauce were tasty but not quite as good as the delish chicken version at Spice Market.

He also got the short smoked salmon rolls with basil, mint, cilantro, and arugula. Their phallic shape was the sexiest part of the dish. LC enjoyed them but I thought the salmon was a little fishy.

More foreplay came in the form of foie gras. I’m in love with it. Seared and served with pear and quince chutney, brioche, and sauterne-saffron gelee, the piece was large enough to be duck rather than goose. That’s OK. I revisited my old habit of requesting a handful of undressed field greens with it to balance the richness of the foie gras. Noticing that many of their dishes contained mint, I specified only greens, no mint. However, the dreaded herb was mixed in among the greens. Nonetheless, it was my favorite dish of the evening, every rich bite matched with a sweet bit of chutney. I was particularly impressed that the brioche was dry and crisp, not greasy like it so often can be. The removal of the mint leaves was an easy task that hardly detracted from my enjoyment.

I switched up my drink to red wine as we awaited our two entrees. Basil caramelized scallops came with golden potato puree as did the strip steak, so we substituted mushroom-herb polenta with the scallops to avoid being redundant. The scallops were nicely seared but overly salty. They also came with ginger braised collard greens. Although slightly undercooked, their flavor was awesome.

The steak was cooked to the correct temperature but didn’t melt in my mouth. It required more chewing than I would have liked. Asparagus and potato puree alongside were not noteworthy.

Other entrees include chili seared Hawaiian tuna and pan roasted seabass. There isn’t anything inherently sexy about either of these dishes, but maybe if a hot guy is buying it for you it’ll turn you on.

We chose another side, the sauteed okra, to share. It would have been more sensual to feed them to each other by hand but that may have drawn unwanted attention so we ate them with our forks. We both loved this dish.

Ending on a sweet note, we sampled the ice cream sandwich…. orange honey and rosemary ice cream nestled between two chewy molasses spiced cookies. Unfortunately, the nutmeg and cloves in the cookies overpowered the subtle flavors of the ice cream.

2285 Peachtree Road 404-228-7963

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

999 Brady Avenue NW 678-733-8550

OK, it was not from my garden or even my parents’ garden, but it grew somewhere in the US, presumably in a garden. Publix had this packaged okra, vibrant and fresh. I grew up eating okra, in gumbo or fried….love it!

My parents are growing okra too, in addition to zucchini, tomatoes, green beans, squash, and cucumbers. Mom has already canned her first batch of beans which we had with grilled pork tenderloin, onions, zucchini, and peppers in Helen, along with a salad of cous cous, edamame, and black olives. Healthy and delicious!

Like the fried green tomatoes, this is my first attempt at frying okra. Mom usually makes and freezes several bags for me but today I decided to cook up a mess of it myself!

Talk about easy! Here is the method: wash the okra, cut into pieces 3/8″-1/2″, toss with cornmeal, season with a little salt and pepper and panfry over medium heat in about 2 tbsp. canola oil for 20-25 minutes, until tender and browned.

I made a big batch so I froze half of it. So good!

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