Hot Dish Review

As Atlanta’s oldest continually operational dining establishment, Horseradish Grill’s gentrified interior belies its original use as a country store in the 30′s, becoming a full-fledged restaurant in 1946 under the management of entrepreneur Bill Daly. His passion for horses is evident in the space’s furnishings, reminiscent of a horse stable, much of which is still intact today. The property was purchased by Steve Alterman in 1995 and renamed Horseradish Grill.

On a recent rainy night, LC and I met our friends JE and AA there for dinner, arriving early in hopes of snagging a table prior to their reservation time. Luckily, a few folks left the bar so we took up residence there instead, starting off with martinis for the guys and bubbly for the girls before uncorking the bottle of Silver Oak cab they brought along.

We shared orders of fried green tomatoes and shrimp and grits to start. As you may be aware, the improper preparation of fried green tomatoes is my pet peeve, especially the common but silly adornment with aiolis and such. Although Horseradish Grill tops theirs with goat cheese, spicy pecans, and remoulade sauce, the tomatoes themselves were thinly sliced and pan fried with a breading so minimal one could see the green through it…like you’re supposed to! Fabulous. Now just get rid of the fussy toppings.

Shrimp and grits were equally impressive. A generous portion of fat shrimp, fire-roasted red peppers, and caramelized onions topped a bowl of Logan Turnpike grits. At $14 it was pricey for an appetizer, but it could easily sub as an entree, in which case I’d request it without the peppers and with extra caramelized onions.

When we heard the chef’s soup of the day was she crab, we all said “yum!” and ordered a couple of bowls to split, plus another of potato leek for me and LC. However, the kitchen had run out of the she crab and brought out cream of vidalia instead, complimentary of course. Two hearty, cream-based soups were a tad too rich, but I particularly enjoyed the addition of andouille sausage and collards in the potato leek soup. After polishing off our starters, we had the bottle of wine opened….one of the smoothest cabs I’ve ever tried.

Predicting enormous portions, I suggested LC and I share an entree. We chose the pork chop served with gouda grits and braised greens. The chop was a double-cut monster, crusted with cornbread crumbs, then pan sauteed and finished with homemade apple butter. I couldn’t help compare it to the pork chop we recently shared at Rosebud, another huge hunk of meat but cooked medium and much more tender. Horseradish Grill serves it well done, like any decent Southerner (like my Dad) would require. Otherwise, the vinegary greens contrasted nicely with the sweetness of the applebutter.

There was no room (or time) for dessert, so we headed back to my neck of the woods, full of all things Southern.

4320 Powers Ferry Road NW 404-255-7277

When the 2.2 mile drive to 4th & Swift was deemed too far by LC, we chose a restaurant even closer to my place, Murphy’s, a veteran of Atlanta’s dining scene yet practically a stranger to me. In fact, my only memory of eating there was one unimpressive brunch. There were, however, multiple occassions that I stopped by the wine shop, back when I could afford to invest in a really good bottle.

It was around 8:30pm on a Friday and we didn’t have a reservation. The wait would be about 45 minutes, so we hovered near the bar hoping for two seats to open up, which happened almost immediately. But the bar staff of two was in the weeds, responsible for making cocktails for the entire restaurant as well as for those of us at the bar.

Noting our brief window of opportunity, I ordered both a half glass of prosecco and another of syrah to follow. LC ordered a tasty cocktail made with grapefruit and tequila. Plus, we had decided to try a cup of chicken tortilla soup and the three cheese flatbread.

When the cup of soup arrived, I was surprised that it had a creamy tomato base. Large squares of fried tortilla provided an awesome crunch factor paired with tender chunks of chicken and creamy slices of avocado. Fresh cilantro added the finishing touch to the zesty soup.

The crispy flatbread was the size of a small pizza. Beneath the blanket of dressed arugula, sweet mission figs, salty prosciutto, and sweet caramelized onions met with melted parmasan and romano (not sure what the third cheese was). We thoroughly enjoyed it.

The bar area suddenly cleared and we continued with dinner in a more tranquil setting, ordering the shrimp and grits entree with a side of local green beans. There was no mention of tomato in the description of the shrimp and grits, but when it arrived, the grits were encircled by what turned out to be a slightly spicy salsa. I really dislike tomato with seafood of any kind, so I would have preferred it without the salsa, but LC enjoyed it. The plump shrimps were accented by thin slices of andouille sausage, and an unnecessary poached egg. Green beans were oily and somewhat undercooked.

There is a dessert counter next to the hostess stand with a chalk board listing Murphy’s sweet offerings. I had already decided to have the apple bread pudding before we even discussed eating anything savory. I saved room for it and another half glass of Bell syrah.

Served in a tiny ramekin, cubes of apple bread with crusty edges emerged from the creamy pudding studded with raisins. A scoop of pistachio ice cream sat upon a bed of crunchy graham cracker crumbs, providing a array of textures and temperatures. Loved it!

On our way out we noticed a cookie jar that operates on the honor system, so we took a couple and left some cash, enjoying the chewy cookies as we strolled to the car. Murphy’s is a great neighborhood spot with a warm and inviting atmosphere, sure to continue to dominate the brunch scene.

997 Virginia Avenue NE 404-872-0909

Atlanta is ethnically diverse, with expanding Asian and Latino populations, bringing with them authentic cuisines from Vietnam to Brazil. Yet, there are many countries and cultures that are still under-represented. Only a handful of Ethiopian restaurants are available for adventurous eaters in Atlanta and even fewer Moroccan restaurants featuring the unique dishes from that North African country.

Imperial Fez is a fine dining experience. Entering the dimly lit space in Buckhead feels like stepping into an exotic fantasy, with ornate tapestry fabrics decorating the walls, ceiling and cushions. Guests were seated on the low benches along the walls and in legless chairs just slightly elevated from the carpeted floor. Mosaic glass lanterns puncuated the draped fabric giving it the look of a sheik’s tent in the dessert.

Some Moroccan dishes are influenced by the nearby Mediterranean featuring black olives, cucumbers, preserved lemon, and chickpeas, while others combine unusual spices like cumin, cinnamon, ginger and garlic to create dishes that are both sweet and savory like the traditional b’stella. Imperial Fez serves it third in a five course feast, filling the pastry with ground Cornish hen and nuts, then blanketing it with powdered sugar.

Just like the belly dancers’ routines, the meal itself is carefully choreographed. Warm water is poured over your hands before bread and thick crackers called Fekkas are delivered, used to scoop up your first course, a sublime lentil soup. Guests are instructed to eat with their right hand, but forks are provided for those set in their American ways.

Perhaps it was the intense burgundy decor of the restaurant or the promise of rich and spicy flavors that made red wine seem like an appropriate drink selection. I chose the fruit sangria while LC surprisingly decided on the Moroccan red wine, which I fully intended to drink. This sangria, served without ice, was unlike any I have had before, with a distinctive cinnamon flavor, and a strong note of rum.

Once we had finished our soup, our server brought out a large square plate with a sampling of colorful Moroccan salads. Pickled carrots, pureed eggplant, and mashed chickpeas, were among our favorites, providing an excellent means by which to devour the remaining crispy fekkas. I was especially excited to try chef Rafih’s signature red harissa, an intensely hot chili sauce, which came out with the salads. A sweet dish made of julienned carrot, raisins, and pineapple was described as a palate cleanser to be eaten after the salads. I ate it hoping to extinguish my lips on fire!

At this point our hunger had disappeared, much like the intrigueingly sweet and savory b’stella that came out next. Chef and owner Rafih Benjelloun joined us briefly. I ordered another sangria as I polished off the rest of LC’s wine. We tried to stop nibbling on bread so we would have room for our entrees.

Intending to share our selections, I ordered the Cornish hen tajine baked with honey, ginger and saffron and topped with apricots, raisins, sweet onions and roasted almonds and LC tried the lamb shank m’choui roasted with cumin, garlic, paprika, and accented with exotic mushrooms. Cut into managable pieces, the meat fell off the little chicken’s bones and into the fragrant sauce. I scooped up delectable bites with my fingers. Meanwhile, LC preferring a more civilized approach was using his fork and knife to cut pieces of lamb. Hardly necessary, the meat was unimaginably tender with a rich flavor complimented by the earthiness of the mushrooms.

Our server returned to wash our hands before bringing out dessert, which was thankfully light….fruit with simple syrup and small pastries with nuts and powdered sugar. We watched the fire dancers as we sipped the sweet and soothing mint tea.

I went to bed satisfied, memories of fragrant spices and visions of belly dancers whirling in my head. When I awoke, I wondered if it had all been a dream….until I saw my fingernails, stained with saffron.

2285 Peachtree Road NE 404-351-0870

It’s that time of year again….Oktoberfest in Helen! Bratwurst, beer, bikers, and bad taste all coming together in one tiny faux Bavarian town in north Georgia. The restaurant most frequented by bikers (or perhaps I should say motorcycle enthusiasts) in Helen has a new owner and a long overdue new look. LC and I visited last weekend and gave it a try.

Formerly Hans House, Hogpen Gap Grill has retained its enormous patio, great for the gorgeous Fall weather. The revamped menu relies heavily on burgers, including Asian, Greek, and Tex Mex versions made with all natural beef, which makes the $9-$13 pricetag easier to digest compared to similarly priced burgers at nearby establishments that are likely full of hormones and fillers. A variety of salads, an extensive kid’s menu, and a few German specialties are offered as well.

There was a chill in the air so LC and I decided to sit inside where the decor was log cabin chic. I ordered a Spaten Oktoberfest and LC tried the Highland Oatmeal Porter that I enjoyed a couple of weeks ago at The Family Dog.

Despite numerous visits to Helen, I feel compelled to eat wurst and drink beer whenever I’m there. Like I have to eat tacos and drink margaritas in Mexico, I just have to, ya know? So I ordered their bratwurst, made locally especially for Hogpen. It was a long, skinny sausage, browned and finished with a drizzle of sweet mustard. Its texture wasn’t as dense as most brats, perhaps because there was less fat to hold it all together…a good thing. All three standard sides, sauerkraut, German potato salad, and candied red cabbage, were served with the bratwurst, complimenting its meaty flavor.

The cool weather made LC crave a bowl of hot soup. He wanted to order the potato soup but I thought it would be cream-based and fatty so I steered him towards the goulash, traditionally made with beef and vegetables in a tomato-based broth. Both of us wanted to try the corn souffle’ as a side.

Unfortunately, the goulash didn’t contain much beef so LC wasn’t thrilled with it. The corn souffle’, however, was fluffy and delicious, but the portion was disappointingly small. We ordered two more beers, bargain priced by Helen standards at $4 each.

After our lunch we took a short walk to the Festhalle where umpah bands play silly German polka music and college students get shitfaced on German beer served in tall plastic boots. We didn’t stay long.

This weekend, October 27th and 28th, is the last of Oktoberfest 2012, so pull on your lederhosen, get on your Ducati, and head to Helen for some beer, bratwurst, and maybe a little corn souffle’.

8735 Main Street, Helen 706-878-1822

Some days the best course of action is to disappear. I had a day like that last week, so I went There, where the atmosphere is warm and the liquor is cold.

Proprietor BB offered me a Moscow Mule, made with ginger beer, lime juice, and Russian Standard Vodka, the only potato vodka produced in Russia available in the states. Served in a proper copper mug, it is a refreshing cocktail, albeit an odd choice for me at noon….on a Thursday.

But I wasn’t There to drink, I was There to eat some figs! BB has been up in his fig trees every day gathering the ripe fruit, both black mission and brown turkey. With his harvest he, along with his new chef BT, created several dishes for this late Summer menu, like the fig salad with black peppercorn chevre dressing and the fig creme catalan for dessert. I ended up having both, plus a sampling of rustic squash soup.

The salad was a lovely composition of lightly dressed greens, mostly red oak from There’s garden, puncuated with fresh figs glazed with raisin puree. Pretty. Some chunks of goat cheese in the dressing would have added to the pleasure.

But it was the fig creme catalan served in a tiny Le Creuset casserole dish that really blew me away. Beneath the crunchy layer of torched sugar was a rich vanilla custard studded with sweet poached figs. Creamy, dreamy, decadent. It was a lovely escape, if only for an hour.

305 Brookhaven Avenue 404-949-9677

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.

After a lengthy liquor license wait, There officially opens its doors tonight at the Town Brookhaven development. LC and I stopped by last night for a sneak peak and to sample the goods from chef Ryan Hickey.

The alligator and boar sausage and the smoked trout deviled eggs were already sold out, but luckily there was plenty of the smoked oyster chowder that proprietor BB had mentioned earlier in the day. Chowders are often cream based and heavy, but we found Hickey’s version incredibily light, full of house-smoked oysters perfectly diced potatoes, carrots, and a little bacon.

LC ordered his standard vodka martini, proclaiming bartender Craig to be fantastic upon his first sip. A quick perusal of the wine list provided multiple choices by the glass, especially in the deep red category, a favorite of mine and BB’s. I started off with the peppery Woop Woop Shiraz.

A bowl of smoked almonds kept us happy as we awaited our bison burger, a tall stack of deliciousness reminiscent of the sandwiches at Bocado, where Hickey served as sous chef under Todd Ginsberg. Although I failed to order the burger medium as I would normally do, the meat was very juicy. I had to unhinge my jaw to take a bite of the colossal burger, topped with chef’s signature roasted poblano peppers, melted white cheddar, avocado, red onion, and spicy mayo. LC loved the flavor. Crispy house-cut fries came alongside.

When the full menu is available (soon!) you’ll find me There, eating the duck salad on mesclun greens with apple, pear, watermelon radish, spice peanuts, and dressed with housemade peach balsamic vinaigrette.

305 Brookhaven Avenue 404-949-9677

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