Hot Dish Review

Having visited the second location of this local Irish pub just a week after it opened in Brookhaven, I was interested to see the original in Alpharetta. Olde Blind Dog in Brookhaven boasts countless vintage reproductions and original Irish and English fixtures including ornate lamp posts along the faux sidewalk. It’s over-the-top kitschiness is both ridiculous and fun, but the decor of the Alpharetta location, which is significantly larger, is less cluttered. There is, however, a mannequin of William Wallace a.k.a. Braveheart (pictured), somewhat reminiscent of a Ripley’s Believe it or Not display.

LC and I arrived for the other LC’s birthday party, ready for a couple of Irish car bombs! We chugged those at the bar, then found our way to her party section. A few appetizers were ordered for the table including Kerrygold cheddar dip with pretzel bread and fried calamari, neither of which was memorable. Another Guinness appeared. And another car bomb.

I decided against traditional Irish pub fare in favor of a big fat cheeseburger, complete with cheddar, bacon, caramelized onions, and fresh jalapenos. LC ordered an ale-braised short rib sandwich, an enormous open-faced thing made with grilled jalapeno cornbread, short rib meat, coleslaw, and a colossal mound of fried onion strings. Both sandwiches were served with fries. Another Guinness appeared. And another car bomb. Are you keeping count? I wasn’t.

Weighing in at half a pound, my medium cooked burger was juicy, sloppy, and awesome. LC’s monster sandwich was tasty but enough to feed an entire elementary class. Nonetheless, we both polished off our plates without barfing. Then I took an impromptu nap.

12650 Crabapple Road 678-624-1090

Located in a converted house in the historic district of Crystal River, Florida, this cafe’ is the very definition of quaint and one of the most popular lunch destinations in town.

Visiting my folks for Thanksgiving, LC played golf with my Dad while me and Mom shopped. Then we stopped by The Highlander Cafe’ for a leisurely lunch. The restaurant’s concise menu consists of mostly salads and sandwiches, each with an upscale twist. For instance the smoked turkey breast with cranberry sauce. Having just feasted on those very things, I opted for the bacon and brie on ciabatta.

Mom decided to try the toasted bagel with cream cheese and smoked salmon. It was topped with the traditional smattering of onions and capers. My sandwich arrived with a generous amount of bacon and gently melted brie. Both came with a house salad of chopped greens with an interesting combination of grapes, cherry tomatoes, mandarin oranges, and bits of pineapple with a side of housemade honey mustard vinaigrette.

I was pleased to see the owner of the establishment checking in with each table to make sure their meal was satisfactory. And it was obvious that our attentive and efficient server was his son. When the owner came by to chat we realized why the restaurant was named The Highlander….he was Scottish! Altogether, a charming lunch.

My only complaint, and it’s a small one, is the vinyl tablecloths. Crystal River seems to be full of ‘em.

638 N. Citrus Avenue 352-563-0028

My friend and colleague MC has become addicted to Pinterest. Scrolling down her page, she showed me her lovely collection of photos and ideas, many sharing a soothing aqua blue theme.

Then I saw it….a closeup of a gooey grilled cheese. Food porn. I suddenly had an interest in Pinterest.

Upon closer inspection, it was a grilled cheese made with cheddar, cream cheese, and jalapenos, like an inside out jalapeno popper. I turned to google for specific recipes and found several variations, some including bacon. I jotted down some notes and stopped by Publix for the standard ingredients, then Trader Joe’s for a decent loaf of bread.

Here’s my version:

4 slices sourdough bread
Light cream cheese
Shredded light cheddar
2 large fresh jalapenos
4 slices of bacon, cooked
Unsalted butter

Roast the jalapenos on foil in a 500 degree oven until the skin is charred, about 10 minutes, and let cool. Spread some cream cheese on each slice of bread, then sprinkle with cheddar, to taste. Cut the jalapenos into quarters lengthwise, removing the stems (*and the seeds if you prefer less spice…see note). Layer the jalapenos and bacon in between the pieces of bread. Melt butter in a non-stick skillet and heat the sandwiches, pressing them with the back of your spatula, until they are golden brown.

Makes 2 paninis. Serve with fancy chips like the Trader Joe’s Ridge cut sweet potato chips shown snuggling up to the panini in photo.

The sandwiches were delicious, tasting just like the infamous snack served at restaurant chains across the country. However, next time I’ll use more cheese….a lot more cheese.

*Note regarding jalapenos: some are hotter than others. I left all of the seeds in the 2 panini I made for myself and LC. His was smoky with a hint of spice, mine was lip-incinerating!

Mammoth Cave in Kentucky is the longest known cave in the world, spanning over 390 miles. As one of America’s National Parks, they offer a variety of guided tours ranging from an easy one hour to a strenuous 4 1/2 hour trek. Guess which one we chose.

Thirteen of us, along with about 65 other folks, explored the massive undergound rooms and skinny passageways. Midway through we stopped for lunch, an efficiently run boxed lunch set-up in one of the cavernous spaces. We each took a box which contained a turkey sandwich, pasta salad, a cup of veggie soup, chips, apple slices, a cookie, and found a seat at one of the picnic tables.

Our lunch in the cave marked the first time I had ever eaten a piece of untoasted white bread. I grew up with a nutritionist Mom that would never have allowed me to eat something so devoid of nutrients. White bread was for the uneducated, unsophisticated masses. Since then, I have always rebelled against anything that seemed classless.

So there I was, hungry in a cave in Kentucky with no choice but a white bread sandwich. Desperate, I grabbed a mayo and a mustard packet, removed one of the slices of doughy bread, applied the condiments to the meat and sliver of flavorless cheese, then folded it in half. The bread stuck to the roof of my mouth with each bite.

Our entertaining guide raved about the soup (maybe he hates white bread too!). It was vegetables in a tomato-based broth. My cup had loads of potatoes, carrots, and beans, but LC got cheated, his cup being mostly broth, so I offered him some of my sodium-soaked veggies. The cave was chilly, the soup was warm. That was the best part about it.

And that was my first white bread sandwich….and hopefully my last.

After three days at Churchill Downs, what more could a girl want than to stop at the casino and off track betting parlor on the way out of town? Having lunch there was just a bonus.

LC likes to make a pit stop at Kentucky Downs on our way home from Louisville, turning what could be a brief six hour drive into an all-day trip. We arrived right at lunchtime and were surprised to find the place completely renovated….and packed. Where there used to be blackjack tables there are now slot machines.

When it comes to gambling, I’m more of a spectator than participator. I’ve been to Vegas literally dozens of times without a single quarter going into a slot. LC, on the other hand, loves betting on the horses. There is, however, a distinct difference between this type of gambling and playing the slots. Betting on horses requires skill, not just luck.

We took a table, one of those traditional wood-grain laminate motel room dinette kind, in the new non-smoking section in front of eight flat screens, each with a different track, and waited for the lone server to come by to take our order. There was a set menu offered, with your choice of soup and sandwich, with a salad and baked potato. Rather fancy if you ask me! LC had the cheddar brocoli soup and the reuben while I tried the chili and grilled ham and cheese.

It was delivered like a three course meal, first the soup, then salad, then entree. My chili contained both meat and beans and had enough kick to keep my eyes open. LC was too distracted by his betting to actually taste his soup, using it later to flavor his baked potato. The salad was fresh and crisp, surprisingly not iceberg.

Both of our sandwiches were piled high with meat and cheese, then grilled. A little greasy, but perfectly acceptable considering our location. Baked potatoes were wrapped in foil, ready to be topped with to-go containers of sour cream and margarine….or soup, whichever the case may be.

We washed it all down with Miller Lites and continued betting until the funds ran dry.

As I awoke from my slumber yesterday morning, visions of bacon, eggs, and coffee danced in my head. I have a repetoire of breakfast dishes I make, constantly revolving to escape boredom.

But that morning I had a secret weapon…..the leftover croque monsieur from the night before. I immediately knew what I had to do. The monsieur would become a madame!

In France, the lowly ham ‘n’ cheese has been elevated to an art form. Sauce bechamel, fine European cheeses, ham cured by local butchers, and artisan breads are used to create the rich and decadent croque monsieur.

The addition of an over easy fried egg transforms the sandwich into a croque madame. Get it? Of course you do. I placed the leftover sandwich in a glass casserole and reheated it in the oven. Meanwhile, I cracked an organic egg and heated my skillet.

Four minutes later, voila! I slid the egg on top of the bubbly, cheesy sandwich, and enjoyed every bite.

So There I was, driving towards Brookhaven on a recent Friday night. I would be dining at a restaurant, but unlike most weekend dining experiences, There would be no crowd. In fact, There was no menu.

The establishment’s proprietor BB, who also happens to be a CIA trained chef, had lured me There with the promise of a decadent croque monsieur, a fancy French version of the pedestrian American ham ‘n’ cheese.

Having eaten the rich sandwich at a sidewalk cafe along the Seine in Paris, I knew how a proper croque monsieur was made. The challenge recreating it in the USA is finding the quality ingredients required. Aged gruyere is an everyday grocery item in Europe. Amazing freshly baked breads can be purchased on practically every corner.

BB was left to forage for his ingredients at the nearby Publix. He came up with a round of sourdough, some gruyere, a chunk of pecorino, proscuitto di parma, and ham. For the sauce, he substituted regular milk for the usual heavy cream.

JV, who will be the restaurant’s manager, joined us for the impromptu meal. We chatted about everything from music to meat while BB whisked his sauce. I served myself a Guinness, skipping back and forth between the bar and the kitchen, camera in hand. BB grated a bit of nutmeg over the bubbling skillet. “Bechamel?” I asked. Something like that.

But There was more. BB had made chicken pot pies earlier in the day, popping them in the oven before prepping the croques. They were enormous individual pies, with homemade fresh herb crusts, filled with all the usual goodies. However, just as a croque monsieur is no regular sandwich, his pot pie beared little resemblance to the Swanson’s in every college student’s freezer.

They came out of the industrial size oven sizzling, the rich chicken broth bubbling out of the slits in the crust. While they cooled, BB assembled the sandwiches, topping them with the bechamel and more grated gruyere for good measure. He stuck ‘em in the oven to brown as we dug into our pot pie appetizers, diced carrots, potatoes and tender chunks of chicken mingling nicely with crisp bits of crust.

I served myself another Guinness from behind the bar, awaiting the piece de resistance. Don’t let its size fool you, the croque was a monster, inflicting arterial damage with each bite. It was a serious sandwich, the kind one must eat with a knife and fork.

It was an evening of honest comfort food, with a side of relaxation, peppered with laughter. Tune in tomorrow to read what became of the leftover croque monsieur!

It was New Year’s Day so LC and I thought we’d visit the new Diesel in his neighborhood. Last year we ordered their superstition sampler with black eyed peas, ham, and collards. These foods are supposed to bring you luck.

But alas, it was not a second location of the Virginia Highland’s favorite, but rather a pizza joint. It’s just as well, the majority of our luck in 2011 was bad, so we were probably better off without the superstition sampler.

So we were left wandering the burbs in search of something open. It was too late for lunch, too early for dinner, so we settled for a bar and restaurant where we could watch football and share a snack. That’s when we spotted Loco’s Grill and Pub. I’ve seen the location at Loehmann’s Plaza for years with no urge whatsoever to go inside. But they were one of few places open, so we were in luck.

The first thing I noticed about the space was the smell of smoke. I find it incredibly weird that smoking is allowed in bars in the uptight suburbs, but not in the city of Atlanta. They try to divide the smoking room from the non-smoking, but the smell always seeps through the cracks.

We settled into a booth in the bar and ordered a couple of huge, cheap Miller Lites. Then LC noticed they had Keno….some harmless gambling to entertain us during lunch.

Their menu was typical pub fare, with a selection of burgers, some Tex-Mex items, and the ubiquitous wings. Come to find out, Loco’s is another damn chain, with 17 locations in the Southeast and one in Missouri. Isn’t anything original any more?

Nothing thrilled me on the menu, so I let LC decide. He ordered the blackened chicken sandwich with provolone, lettuce, and tomato on an onion roll, called The Rooster. I added bacon for excitement.

The sandwich boasted a thick chicken breast but was relatively unimpressive. Onion rings on the side were crispy and not greasy, but the serving was scant.

2012 will undoubtedly bring us luck….the question is, will it be good or bad? I hope LC’s loss in Keno wasn’t a sign of things to come.

11770 Haynes Bridge Road 770-751-9898

There’s nothing worse than a chain restaurant with a menu so all-encompassing that it is literally a book….except for an imposter that tries to emulate this concept.

With pages of sandwiches, pastas, entrees, soups, and the tell-tale cheesecakes, Copeland’s dishes mimic those of the dreaded Cheesecake Factory, served in epic portions seemingly designed to triple diners’ cholesterol levels.

Sadly, this appeals to much of middle America. Over 100 menu items, including 16 flavors of cheesecake, gives the illusion of “something for everyone” when, in fact, common sense will tell you that it is impossible to execute that many dishes well. It’s hit or miss at best.

Among the horrific choices are two kinds of “pasta pizza bowls”, linguine, seafood, and sauce served in a cheese pizza bowl. Are you serious? Aunt Gladys can forget about getting into her Walmart bikini.

I met LC and little T at Atlantic Station recently to shop at H & M. It was lunch time and the options were somewhat bleak, so we did what most people would do….went to Copeland’s.

With the original four locations in Louisiana, the restaurant offers several Cajun and Creole dishes. But the menu also represents Italian, Mexican, and Asian cuisines, as well as homestyle Southern fried chicken and meat loaf.

Marathon holiday eating left us wanting something light so LC tried the Thai shrimp wrap while little T and I both ordered the chicken and avocado club on toasted brioche. His side of onion strings and our sweet potato fries, however, tipped the scale toward indulgence.

Our plates arrived with enormous sandwiches and overflowing with our greasy sides. I immediately noticed that our chicken clubs were not toasted, but rather grilled, requiring multiple napkins. Inside the butter-soaked exterior, the sandwich was layered with generous amounts of lettuce, tomato, avocado, Swiss cheese and bacon. The grilled chicken breasts, although tender, were overly salted.

On the other hand, the sweet potato fries were quite good, with a sweet glaze lightly drizzled over them. LC’s onion straws provided a satisfying crunch and flavor, but were room temperature upon arrival. Much like our sandwiches, the filling of his wrap was much better than the wrap itself, made with tough pita bread. I took a bite and noted that the shrimp tasted fishy, only slightly disguised by their surrounding lettuce, scallions, and crispy Asian noodles.

Our server, bless her heart, listened to our complaints and sent the manager over, who comp’d two of the three sandwiches. And then, per her training, she asked if we had room for cheesecake. No sweetie, not today….not ever.

265 18th Street 404-815-8800

I’m a city chick. I grew up in a small town and expect little from them in way of culture, diversity, sophistication….you get the picture. So Imagine my surprise when a colleague and I visited several locations in Cartersville and discovered a thriving mini metropolis….Mayberry style.

The new part of town near the interstate was as unimpressive as any suburb, with every ubiquitous retailer and restaurant chain you can think of. It was the quaint historic town center that charmed us.

Driving through it we spotted a cute corner store and deli and decided to stop for lunch there rather than Chic-fil-a. Called Swheat Market, the space was country chic, with mix ‘n match repurposed furnishings creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. But unlike its country cousins, this deli was on trend, using all organic produce, also sold in their market along with other natural products. And there was no shortage of patrons, dining on specialty sandwiches, soups, and a selection of vegetarian options.

Being unapologetic omnivores, FP chose the grilled chicken salad sandwich and I couldn’t resist their classic BLT, made with extra-thick sliced peppered bacon, and lots of fresh L and T, piled on toasted sourdough with gobs of mayo. We split a side of sweet potato fries which were unfortunately on my plate, so chances are the split wasn’t quite fair. The bread that held our sandwiches together was pleasingly crispy as were the sweet potato fries.

If you find yourself in that neck of the woods, give it a try. All I can say is….swheat!

5 E. Main Street, Cartersville, GA 770-607-0067