Restaurant Review - Breakaway Grill

Hat trick: Breakaway Grill is theicing on the Forum

I was expecting hot chocolate and cornmeal mush with maple syrup. I was expecting paper plates. I was expecting fluorescent lights. Instead, I got Breakaway Grill, a thoroughly snazzy little restaurant overlooking the Atlanta Thrashers' sheet of practice ice at the IceForum in Duluth.

No, seriously.

You, tasteful Gwinnett Loaf readers, can imagine what went through my mind when I interviewed the gentlemen who were planning the Thrashers' addition to the existing ice-skating facility in the fast-food franchise-infested environs of Satellite Boulevard and Pleasant Hill Road, and heard their plans to add an "upscale" place to eat that would serve "really good food."

Right.

Needless to say, I was none too optimistic about my chances for eating well when I pulled into the IceForum's parking lot recently. Then I spied the bright yellow awning in the corner between the old and new buildings. Hmm ... the place had its own entrance. I stepped inside, into the same ice-rink holding area that had always been there. But now, a row of plants and a curving wall of glass blocks separated me from the hordes of kids in skating skirts intent on becoming the next Michelle Kwan. The blocks were skillfully hiding the snack counter I knew was behind it. (Where, yes, there is hot chocolate for sale, but not cornmeal mush.)

Rounding the corner, I came upon a shallow stairwell. Arrows pointed up. I obeyed. And as I stepped onto the stairs' midnight blue carpeting, my spirits perked up. The dimly lit staircase, I knew, was a good omen. At the very least, someone who cared about visual presentation was at work.

At the top of the stairs, the cramped but happily lit foyer loomed. To the left, a wall of windows overlooked the Thrashers' ice, where midget-league lessons were in progress. A couple of diners were enjoying the lessons as they ate, perched atop bar stools, at the counter, which runs the length of the glass.

Set away from the counter is a row of four-top tables. At the end of the narrow room, a small bar gleams. Up a few stairs, a second level was outfitted with tables for two and booths, a pair of which could seat larger parties.

I asked for a booth. The host eyed me critically. After I'd squeezed into the booth, I realized why: I am skinny enough to fit in one. It seems there was a slight miscalculation and the tables came in too big for the booths. It was a tight fit, but the new tables should be installed by the time you read this.

My first glance at the menu wasn't encouraging: cheeseburger, Philly cheese steak, mozzarella sticks, onion rings, chicken tenders. Yuck.

But wait, what was this? Three-cheese ravioli? Grilled salmon? Filet mignon?

I chose a crab and salmon chowder, and the restaurant's signature dish: crispy sweet and sour calamari, "soy and ginger reduction topped with sesame seeds."

These, ladies and gentlemen, were delicious. This was not hockey-puck cuisine. The chowder had the perfect, traditional chowder body — light, not pasty, with a flavorful broth. The crab and salmon tasted exceedingly fresh. And the menu wasn't kidding when it called the calamari crisp. Crunchy on the outside, supple on the inside, with a seriously sweet and sour, seriously sesame tang, it arrived at the table on a delightfully visual square cobalt plate. With chopsticks.

I could not have been more surprised if I had been handed the Stanley Cup to take home for the day.

Even if you haven't the slightest interest in ice — except in a drink — you should try this place.