Hot Dish Review

Wish I was on my way somewhere exotic right about now….With an evening flight one never knows if dinner will be served. I booked my trip to Rio too late to upgrade so I was stuck with an overnight coach flight. Hense the drinks and stash of pills. Who the hell can sleep sitting bolt upright? After my extravagant meal at One Flew South, I didn’t really care if they served Spam and Twinkies.

So, did I happen to mention that I’m the luckiest bitch in the world? As I boarded the Delta flight I resigned myself to my lot for the next 9.47 hours in seat 24A. But there was someone seated there, he showed me his boarding pass with that assigned seat. Hmmm, baffling. I checked my boarding pass and it said 2F. Score! I had been bumped to first class. I love first class.

I sat next to a guy named J. We were greeted with champagne, about to dine like kings on real food. With real utensils. Along with a noise canceling headset, cozy socks, chapstick, moisturiser and other sundries found in the seat pocket, there is a menu. Passengers are asked to order while still at the gate, sipping champagne. I kicked off my Nikes and relaxed.

I know from experience that you get all of the appetizers, regardless which one you request. No matter, eat a bit of each. J and I ordered and proceeded to love the cream of asparagus soup. However, we were also presented with the cured salmon with seaweed salad and the greek salad of feta cheese, cucumber and olives with balsamic vinaigrette. Ten minutes later, the only thing that remained on my plate were the sliced cucumbers. You all know I hate cucumbers.

There were four entree selections; seared mahi mahi with lemon butter sauce, asparagus and paella rice, three cheese vegetarian spaghetti carbonara, or the grilled fillet of beef bearnaise with mashed redskin potatoes and sauteed green beans for the hot entrees, and roast beef, herbed shrimp with a deviled egg and grilled peppers and artichokes for a chilled choice.

J ordered the fillet which I’ve had before and is truly the best option, however, already laden with pork and still not feelin’ the fish, I opted for the carbonara. It was alright but J’s entree was much more photogenic (see above). He was one of those guys that doesn’t eat veggies so I ate a few of his green beans.

I enjoyed several glasses of the 2008 MontGras Carmenere Reserva from Chile with my meal. Remember….the wine glasses, although made of glass, are tiny, about the size of a tasting glass. J had a Coke.

Dessert offerings are always the same in first class….your choice of cheese and fruit with crackers or a standard ice cream sundae with all the fixin’s. Vanilla with chocolate or strawberry sauce, chopped nuts and whipped cream, garnished with a pirouline cookie. I usually get both but having already had a three course meal I opted for just the cheese and fruit. And more wine.

No sleeping pills required as I fully reclined, covered with my thin comforter and plush pillow. About 6.25 hours later J said “somebody got some sleep!” as I awoke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and bacon. Breakfast Miss P? Yes, please! Coffee, scrambled eggs (nuked,of course), bacon, and bagel or croissant (I had both), plus French toast. I could have had the oats of honey granola with yogurt or just fruit and bread. I could have had the whole lot had I asked for it. Did I mention that I love first class?

After a riotous week in Rio, a glorious get-away in Gloria, a brief love affair with Leblon, I was (almost) ready to go home. Sure, I’d miss the acai and the frango fritters, the agua de coco and the copious canned cerveja, but it was time to say goodbye to Brazil.

Would I, could I be so lucky on the return flight? 35G. As I made my way to the back of the plane my fate was sealed. Dinner was a choice of chicken or pasta. I chose the chicken served with gnocchi, a tomato-ish sauce, sauteed spinach, a small salad with a packet of Italian dressing and a cracker with cheese spread, and bread and butter. I paired my meal with a can of Miller Lite. A chocolate chip cookie in a wrapper for dessert. Classic.

Breakfast? I slept through it (yes, this time I had to take the sleeping pills and sleep curled up like The Bunny on the seat), however woke just in time to walk to the back of the plane and get the nuked croissant, banana, granola bar, OJ, and a coffee before landing.

I was dreaming of farofa and favelas….monkeys in the rain forest and men wearing yellow feathers in the subway. I was dreaming of Brazil.

Remember when the holidays were a time to relax with family and friends? That’s right….when you were a child. After that, it’s all financial hardship and stress.

Once family time was over, B and I had a chance to exchange gifts and enjoy some adult beverages and conversation. A bottle of Gloria Ferrar Brut started off the evening by my gorgeous phat tree.

Then we were off to one of our favorite spots, Top Flr, but alas, it was Monday and they were closed. B suggested another of our old haunts, Livingston, just a mile down the street. Perfect! Although chances were not good that our buddy Zeb, the chef, would be working the day after Christmas.

We had little company aside from our friendly bartender. But we were in luck to visit on Millionaire Monday, Zeb’s special two course dinner for $18 every Monday which features such rich dishes as lobster and steak. B and I decided to order one of each and create our own surf ‘n’ turf.

But first, we sipped an impressive red that was spicy and deep. A spinach salad with gorgonzola, vidalia onions was drizzled with candied bacon vinaigrette provided a simple and satisfying start.

We ordered the filet medium-rare. B requested it on the rare side and after some thought, I agreed. Best too rare than overcooked. Our plates arrived, thoughtfully kitchen split. The baby filets were unfortunately cooked medium with no rare in sight, but the lobster was perfectly poached. It was a meal that could have been decadent if it weren’t so light.

The bartender topped off our glasses as we chatted. Just then, a gentleman (and I use that term loosely) appeared at the bar. He and his new bride were apparently staying at The Georgian Terrace for their honeymoon. Dressed in a garrish pinstripe suit, he was a minister, and needed advice on what alcoholic beverage to buy for his new bride. We suggested champagne so he ordered “the cheapest one”. His ridiculous demeanor made us laugh, but it wasn’t until his departure that we noticed a flyer he had left outlining the services he offered through his business, Non-Negotiable Ministries.

Valuable services such as Prophetic Miming (who doesn’t need that?), Preaching (of course) Food Catering, and the all important Armour Bearing (WTF?), all available regardless of race, creed, or policy. What if your policy is not to hire ghetto preachers?

Best of all, his food catering business is called Fix-It Preacha. I swear. Even me and B couldn’t make that up!

(If you are interested in honing your prophetic miming skills, just contact me, I have the minister’s number.)

659 Peachtree Street NE 404-897-5000

B is addicted to Groupon. She’ll buy anything that’s a good deal….golf lessons, restaurant coupons, clown suits. Once you buy it, you are obligated to use it, no matter how ridiculous it might be. But her recent purchase of a $35 food voucher at La Fourchette for a mere $17 was not ridiculous at all, so we made a reservation for Saturday night.

La Fourchette mean “the fork”, a reasonable monicker for a place that serves French inspired cuisine that one should probably eat with a fork….or does it imply something more?

The restaurant’s sterile glass exterior on busy Piedmont Avenue belies its simple yet inviting space, warmly lit and full of young and trendy diners. B arrived tout de suite and we proceeded to order a couple of glasses of inexpensive bubbly. Cheers!

We had so much catching up to do we almost forgot to look at the menu. Among the list of ten appetizers, a couple intrigued her and a couple intrigued me. I would have tried the smoked trout tart with pink lady apples, or even the foie gras despite its unfortunate au torchon preparation, especially since it was paired with roasted black mission figs and brioche, but it was the pan roasted sweetbreads that made both B and I salivate.

Served on a smudge of slightly bitter fennel puree, and slightly bitter kale, the sweetbreads were thickly sliced and perfectly accented with sweet and tart cherry confiture…a bit of each on my fork reminded me that the generous portion and overall deliciousness made it worth the hefty $16 price tag. There went half our coupon already!

B and I moved on to red wine, giving a spicy red zin a try, at $12 a glass. Our server recommended the grilled loup de mer. B often orders fish so she took his advice. It was served with leeks, crispy fingerlings, and saffron emulsion. She loved the little discs of potato. My bite was tasty but hardly memorable.

I thought momentarily about the bistro steak frites with sauce bordelaise and the grilled pork loin, but was predictably compelled to order the duck confit instead.

Two thigh and leg portions with nicely crisped skin were placed upon a generous heap of black eyed peas and leeks. I was looking forward to the leeks but the side was really just peas…and their eyes were green. It was an odd choice to pair with duck. Much like pork and foie gras, a sweet accompaniment somewhere on the plate is always a nice contrast to rich duck meat. Ironically, the veal was served with apricot puree and brocollini….probably a better match with the duck.

I rarely order chicken because, well, it’s just chicken. But La Fourchette’s roasted chicken with local okra, tomato confit, bacon, and basil puree sounds really good. Entrees ranged from a somewhat boring vegetarian plate with all the sides mentioned above for $18 to B’s loup de mer coming in at a whopping $32.

Much like the interior of the space itself, the duck was nice, just not compelling. Dessert, on the other hand, was a deliriously delicious plate of little square beignets tossed with orange blossom honey and sliced almonds with a bit of honey ice cream on the side. Crisp, light, and sticky, all at the same time.

I hate to belabor the point, but the expenditure at La Fourchette was surprisingly high, especially considering our $35 coupon. But we forked it over, with the sweet memory of the beignets and the last sips of cote de rhone softening the blow.

3133 Piedmont Road 404-748-1229

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

During her visit, AD and I packed a year’s worth of drama in a week. Before taking her to the airport, we decided to find a restaurant nearby with a patio so we could enjoy the sunny day with a touch of Fall in the air, and enjoy a casual lunch while rehashing the events of her visit.

We decided on Cafe 640, formerly Cafe di Sol, who’s quaint patio faces a colorful section of N. Highland Avenue in the Poncey Highlands. The trees, flowers and tiny lights strung all around make guests feel like they are in a small town, but the sirens and occassional passing vagrant remind them otherwise! We chose one of the small tables near the street with the uncomfortable wooden slat chairs.

Should we have wine? Silly question. A glass of riesling for me, pinot noir for her. The three most expensive appetizers ($29 all together) sounded like an awesome clusterf*ck of flavor, perfect for sharing.

Delivered first were the panko crusted fried green tomatoes with New Orleans style BBQ shrimp. You know how I feel about fried green tomatoes. I rarely have a positive reaction to them, but often order them just to see how badly the kitchen can screw ‘em up. Of course the tomatoes were too heavily breaded, but they were not greasy. We could actually taste the tartness of the tomatoes, which was a great match to the sweet, plump shrimp.

A huge bowl of mussels and leeks in a red curry broth came out along with the “ropa vieja”, a dish of slow braised shredded flank steak on tortilla chips, then topped with a little melted aged white cheddar, fresh jalapeno slices, and drizzled with cilantro sour cream. In effect, Spanish nachos. Having just spent her last month abroad in San Sabastian, AD was interested to see how authentic this dish would taste.

The mussels were well-prepared, although I couldn’t detect much curry in the broth. That didn’t stop me from sopping up every last drop with the grilled slices of bread that were served with them.

In between slurping up shellfish, we tried the tortillas, each topped with copious amounts of tender shredded beef. The fresh, not pickled, jalapenos were fiery hot. We both loved it!

Not so pleased with the dryness of my riesling, I chose a malbec for my second glass, as did AD.

We enjoyed our lunch so much that I suggested LC and I dine there for an impromptu dinner the following week. Naturally, we had to order the ropa vieja. I knew LC would love the spicy nachos! To mix it up a bit we tried a house salad with a fantastic housemade balsamic, a stack of perfectly crispy onion rings, and a side of truffle mac ‘n’ cheese, bubbly and browned on top. A martini and a Guinness draft washed it all down.

But LC was still hungry, so we order the panna cotta to go. Needless to say, it didn’t even make it to the car. Sublime, light, and topped with fresh blueberries, we polished off the dessert in seconds.

640 N. Highland Avenue 404-724-0711

In the midst of AD’s whirlwind visit, we managed to spend an evening just hangin’ out. I put together a spread of cheeses and accompaniments and opened a bottle of 2009 Edmeades, a deep spicy red zin who’s earlier vintages used to find their way into my home quite often.

A chunk of standard gruyere, another of 2 year aged gouda with a crunchy texture, and some leftover overly ripe Humboldt Fog were plated with dried figs, honey, slivered almonds, and raisins. A bowl of red grapes and a few toasted slices of Trader Joe’s ciabatta and raisin toast rounded out our spread.

The last time we were together was in Rio nearly twenty months ago, so there was a lot to catch up on. There was plenty of wine, and a little bit of whining about men and money, as the second bottle was uncorked….or rather, unscrewed (always start with the good bottle!).

Cheese was devoured, cigarettes were shared, roaches were thrown off the balcony. Just like old times.

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

Over a month after the actual day, B and I finally got together for her birthday dinner. We decided on The Sound Table for a variety of reasons, including a chance to visit with owner Darren and savor their kickass Brussels sprouts.

The concept of dinner upstairs, drinks and dancing downstairs has shifted a bit over the last year. Food is mostly served downstairs now, certainly a less intimate setting since the DJ booth is constantly pumping out the beats at a conversation-prohibitive level.

We chatted with Darren (he is English, so one must “chat”), then took our seats at a table along the exposed brick wall. Our peppy server was cute, with tattoos and black-rimmed glasses, offering suggestions for a cocktail to start off our evening.

I chose a drink made with tequila, lime, and maraschino….sort of a fancy margarita without salt, while B ordered a glass of red wine, an obscure varietal that turned out to be rich and deep.

Our perusement of the menu uncovered several disappointing changes. Naturally, the roasted Brussels were off the menu, after all, it is Summer. I had considered trying the Spatchcock chicken, a menu mainstay since the restaurant’s inception, but it too was gone.

Regrouping, we decided to split the green salad composed of local lettuces, blue cheese, and spiced pecans. For my entree, I chose the porkchop with baby peas and greens of some sort, while B ordered the salmon special with baby carrots. For an amuse bouche, we discussed the failures of men….it was a substantial serving, full of grizzle. I needed another drink.

When the salad arrived, I was surprised to see the beautiful green lettuces covered with a creamy dressing. It wasn’t mentioned and seemed an odd pairing with the two toppings. A balsamic would have made more sense, and likely would have tasted better. B described the salad as “not special”.

Then our entrees arrived, all dainty and innocent looking. But beneath the pretty exterior was the harsh truth. My two small porkchops were cooked to the consistency of shoe leather and sat upon flavorless peas and bok choy. Bok choy? I’m rather certain that was not what the menu said. Regardless, I tried to eat a bite or two but B convinced me that I should not eat it. Christ, I hate sending food back!

While not thrilled with her selection, B managed to eat almost a third of her salmon. The skin was left on, a pet peave of mine, which made it extra-fishy tasty and smelling. Two baby carrots were the saving grace of the dish.

My sad chops were replaced by our old standby, the hanger steak, medium-rare. We chose an additional side of squash to make up for the underwhelming veggies that accompanied our entrees. Both of these dishes were winners, especially the baked squash, topped with crispy shallots. The steak is usually drizzled with a good quantity of salsa verde but this one arrived almost naked, so I asked our server for extra on the side.

We were ready for a happy ending so we tried the pistachio pot de creme with mascerated figs….amazingly delicious! We should have skipped the two entrees and went straight for the steak, squash, and two of these desserts!

On another bright note, we took a peek at the new patio out back, which used to be a renegade smoking area. Had we known, we would have chosen to sit out there where conversation wasn’t drowned out by the pulsating music.

483 Edgewood Avenue

For my birthday, LC took me to The Iberian Pig in Decatur. My only other visit had been for an Atlanta’s Finest Dining article when me and my companion sampled half the menu. The Spanish inspired tapas and entrees are rich and delicious….a perfect choice for a decadent birthday binge.

Wanting to stick to Spanish red wines, I ordered two different 3 oz. samples, a tempranillo blend and a carmenere, both great paired with the cana de oveja, a ripened sheep’s milk cheese similar to French bucheron, with apricot jam and toasted rustic bread.

Aware of the enormous portions here, we ordered a few tapas to share. Albondigas, meatballs made with wild boar sausage and stuffed with piquillo peppers, Macedonian dates, and roasted tomatoes, are served in a creamy sauce with pimentos and oyster mushrooms. It sounds like too many ingredients competing for your taste buds’ attention, but surprisingly, it works. Although there are only two meatballs, the sauce is heavy with cream.

I wanted to try something new, but it’s hard to resist ordering dishes that are proven winners. Huevos con trufa is just such a dish. A mini casserole holds a huge chunk of slow roasted pork cheek topped with caramelized onions, a poached egg and black truffles. The soft egg yolk coats the fork tender pork, making a decadent spread for more of their fantastic toasted bread, which I accurately guessed is supplied by Holeman and Finch Bread Company.

LC insisted on the manchego mac ‘n’ cheese. I knew how heavy it would be, but what the hell, it is damn good. Made with garganelli pasta twists, the individual dish is baked to form a crispy top that hides the gooey, cheesy pasta beneath it. An extra hour of cardio next week.

Still hoping to try one new dish, we went with the meat “cocas”. A large wafer-thin flatbread topped with serrano ham, arugula, caramelized onions, shaved manchego, pistachio, and olive oil. While we waited for its arrival, I ordered 3 oz. pours of two different Spanish wines. Trying new wines this way is perfect for me….lots of variety with no commitment!

Unlike the other dishes at Iberian Pig, the flatbread was light and airy. Salty ham, crunchy pistachios, sweet caramelized onions, and peppery arugula provided excellent contrasts in flavor and texture.

LC made no secret that it was my birthday so I was expecting a sweet treat from the kitchen. However, I still had my heart set on their trio of housemade gelatos….pistachio, fig and sherry, and dulce di leche. Although creamier and sweeter than gelato should be, I do love the creative flavors.

The gelato was especially good with the churros, fried dough sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon, served with a dark chocolate chili dipping sauce. Our server brought them out with a birthday candle secured to the plate with a dollop of frosting. Crispy on the outside, the churros were remarkably light on the inside. We ate four and took two home, where my birthday celebration continued for several hours.

It was all delicious.

121 Sycamore Street, Decatur 404-371-8800