Cliff Bostock

 Follow

array(101) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(97) "GRAZING: Swole eggplants at Nur Kitchen, Krystal mendacity, strange little pyramids, lovely kiwis"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2022-05-10T16:16:19+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2022-04-07T21:07:20+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2022-04-07T20:58:36+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["parent_object_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["parent_object_type"]=>
  string(7) "tracker"
  ["field_permissions"]=>
  string(2) "[]"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(97) "GRAZING: Swole eggplants at Nur Kitchen, Krystal mendacity, strange little pyramids, lovely kiwis"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator"]=>
  string(10) "jim.harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_text"]=>
  string(10) "Jim Harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_unstemmed"]=>
  string(10) "jim harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "476087"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(33) "cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock)"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(76) "Mediterranean, Middle Eastern, or West Asian — a rose by any other name…"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(76) "Mediterranean, Middle Eastern, or West Asian — a rose by any other name…"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2022-04-07T20:58:36+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(107) "Content:_:GRAZING: Swole eggplants at Nur Kitchen, Krystal mendacity, strange little pyramids, lovely kiwis"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(11883) "I know I’m in a great restaurant when a server looks me in the eyes with a curled lip that says, “I get your sarcasm, motherfucker.”

I was at Nur Kitchen, the “modern Mediterranean” restaurant on Buford Highway that has caused local dining critics’ pens to pulse and spurt for at least a year. While three of us were perusing the menu, the server dropped a magnificent charred, eviscerated, and stuffed whole eggplant on the very close-by table of two women. We ordered one instantly. When the server lowered it toward our table, I noted: “Wait, their eggplant is much bigger than ours.” He shot a glance at theirs and ours and clunked the plate on the table, smiling, and vanished. When he came back, I resumed my complaint. “You understand that the eggplant is an emoji for the penis, right? You have two women at that table and two men and one woman at this one. For obvious reasons, we deserve the larger eggplant.” That’s when his lip curled. In a world that now seriously pathologizes my first language, sarcasm, I am constantly misunderstood. It felt so good to be understood.

And it felt so good, too, to be fed so well. The chef, Shay Lavi, emigrated here in 2015 from Israel and became quickly popular with his catering. He was raised in Tel Aviv in a family with maternal connections to Libya and Turkey. The label “Mediterranean” is a bit confusing. It refers to the cuisines of all countries that border the Mediterranean where wheat and olive oil reign. Nur’s cooking, although featuring a few notes from France and Greece, is mainly what we usually call Middle Eastern, which is also known as West Asian. The French, by the way, love Middle Eastern food, especially Moroccan, and it was my go-to in Paris after exhausting myself in the spectral companionship of Ms. Julia Child. My favorite Middle Eastern food in Atlanta has been mainly Palestinian. My experience of Turkish food was routinely and maddeningly better during trips to Germany than I sampled during the weeks I spent mainly inland in Turkey (while incubating giardia). It’s complicated. However you locate Lavi’s cooking geographically, the taste is unique.

That eggplant was roasted and charred in a brick oven. A lot of people have become nervous when meat is charred because it can eat you alive with its carcinogens. Veggies are safe, though. A char basically means the vegetable’s natural sugar has caramelized, amping up the sweetness but with a bit of homeopathic bitterness. The eggplant’s succulent interior was largely cut into chunks tossed with tahini, mango dressing, and chopped salad. And that brings up my one complaint about the food here. The tabouli, or chopped salad — mainly cucumbers, tomatoes, onions, and parsley with lemon juice — is ubiquitous. If you order one of the pita sandwiches, the main ingredient is the chopped salad. My mouth and my gut don’t really enjoy raw onions much, but we encountered them repeatedly at our meal. (It’s especially not good if your occupation requires you to listen to anxious people and ask them to follow you in taking some deep breaths).


The three of us ordered pita sandwiches — one with falafel, one with chicken shawarma, and mine with chicken schnitzel. Happily, the flat, crispy schnitzel waved out of the pita interior where hummus and tahini co-existed with the ton of tabouli (chopped salad). It was really delicious and next time I might go for the entrée plate where the schnitzel is liberated from the profusion of salad. My companions Wayne and Rose piped happily about their sandwiches whose primary ingredients were completely invisible. I scored a taste of Wayne’s falafel and it was startling. I mean it had a depth of vegetarian flavor I don’t think I’ve encountered before. Rose’s shawarma, which is available daily in limited quantities, pleased her so much she did not offer me a taste. The golden house-made pita with which these sandwiches are made is thick, somewhat fluffy, and perfumey like none I remember ever encountering.

 
 


We also had to order Nur’s mezze platter, an assortment of six to eight tapas-sized vegetable dishes that change frequently. If Chef Lavi knows you — the restaurant is very social, especially during dinner — you might get some more esoteric and complex tastes, according to Wendell Brock of the AJC. For now, I don’t care because most of the classics like hummus, sour eggplant, and baba ghanoush were startling in the clarity of their ingredients, especially when teamed with the unexpected like a puddle of aioli. You tear up pieces of the perfect pita to scoop up the dips and if there are more than two diners at your table, you’ll wonder why you did not receive more than two of the cushiony pita. So order more. Other small plates during our visit included more prosaic dish fillers like olives, pickled onions, and labneh.


The lunch and dinner menus are the same here and include many other dishes, from burgers (lamb or beef) and grilled chicken thighs to mussels (fried or sautéed) and baklava. A large plate of roasted vegetables draws as many approvals as the mezze. A whole roasted fish is available most days. Many items, like the schnitzel, are available as sandwiches or on entrée plates. The charming dining room is festooned with colorful lamps high above that somehow made me Dream of Jeanie and wonder when someone was going to step out of the kitchen to read Rumi aloud in Farsi (the most beautiful language on the globe). The dining room is small and busy enough that reservations are recommended. Definitely go with friends, because this very sensual food is meant to be shared (even though I refused to share my schnitzel). Don’t forget to taunt the server with sarcasm.

!!Shopping
 

::::

I go to Kroger and Trader Joe’s every week and spend an increasingly ridiculous amount of money on staples alone. Recently, I decided to try out the budget-minded Aldi which has a store near Grant Park. There are annoying aspects like having to insert a quarter in a lock to get a cart. You get the quarter back when you return the cart. Meanwhile, someone might be standing by, asking you for the quarter in your hand. Here ya go, buddy.

Inside, most everything is stacked in boxes instead of being arranged on shelves. Pricing is clear – something Kroger obviously and intentionally avoids. I had conversations with three or four other shoppers there and I was taken aback by everyone’s enthusiasm for the place. A young French student told me it’s the perfect place for “European ingredients.” I didn’t exactly get that until I later read that Aldi and Trader Joe’s have a common European heritage too complicated to describe here.

Savings on produce, including the fruit I’m addicted to, were huge. Much of it is organic, as is much of the meat, if that means anything to you because, frankly, it generally means very little. I bought three varieties of bagged apples, kiwis (which I haven’t eaten in 10 years), mandarin oranges, strawberries, nectarines, grapes, cheeses, chicharrones, a gigantic corned beef, organic chicken breasts, a mesquite-smoked pork loin, wet cat food, and, incidentally, pita bread that cost about $1 and was far better than Kroger’s and Trader Joe’s. By the time I left, I’d spent about $65. I was not totally happy with the bagged apples. They were small and not always crisp. And the pork loin was just weird. I wish I’d found an unseasoned one.

I also visited Hoa Binh, a large Asian market with a Vietnamese name, on Buford Highway. Wayne buys tons of Szechuan pickles and peppers and slimy roots there to put on everything he eats, but I was particularly interested in the fresh Vietnamese specialties wrapped in banana leaves that are sold in the check-out lanes. They are made by the folks who operate a food booth inside the store.


I pride myself on loving Asian foods, but the truth is I have some pretty pathetic boundaries. I don’t like strong fish and shrimp paste, for example. I don’t like organ meats. Honestly, I don’t even like brown sauces with muddled tastes of soy sauce. I tried about four of the Vietnamese items. The only one I really liked a lot was the cha lua or “Vietnamese ham” that is often compared to mortadella. Unwrapping it from the banana leaves and plastic wrap is a chore, but the stuff, a frequent banh mi ingredient, is delicious…at room temperature or slightly cool. I did try it in a few warm noodle dishes and did not find it appetizing. Sliced and plunked on a baguette with some sriracha mayo, it’s perfect.



 



 


The most unfamiliar item was two little sweet pyramids, also complexly wrapped in leaves — banh tet chuoi. They are a sticky treat popular during lunar new year (tet). Unwrapping these little beasts was like performing surgery. They had that gummy texture I really don’t like, usually derived from sweetened beans of some type. It’s a funky gummy. I have no idea what the flavors were. I’m guessing the green one was green tea and the brown one was, um, peanut butter? There was mysterious stuff in the core. I also bought two other logs, both of which also turned out to be sweets. The most interesting thing about this experience was detecting the taste of banana leaves. I had no idea they imparted subtle but distinctive flavor. Now I do.

 

!!Here and there
 

::::

Dude, I’m so over the Krystal at 626 14th Street and Northside Drive. I’ve wanted to try it out ever since it teamed up with Butter.ATL and the Spice Group to basically create a big piece of urban art that serves sliders and Black culture. I finally decided to give it a go last month. Like three times. Despite its marketing claims and signs, it’s not open 24 hours. While the drive-through was open during two visits, the doors were locked. On my third try, two idle employees came out and explained they weren’t open inside. I told them my story. They looked at one another and groaned. One of them explained that they never knew day to day whether to unlock the doors. “We wait for the call,” he said. “You should call our manager.” I said I’d done that but his phone was disconnected. Seriously…..

Following my second abortive attempt to get me a Krystal, I rushed to Mix’d Up to snag a lamb burger, which they had brought back after taking it off the menu earlier. Nope. Off the menu again and “we’re closed anyway.” I rounded the corner and saw that Estrellita, a Filipino restaurant, was all lit up. I raced inside and asked if they were still serving dinner. “No,” the guy said behind the counter. While I was about to kill myself, he said, “Wait. We have a dinner someone ordered but Uber didn’t come get. You can have it for $5.” Hell yeah. A quarter of a spicy, super crunchy chicken and two Filipino-style egg rolls. Check out their ube -– traditional purple ice cream.

!!Decadently rich
 


I swear Woods Chapel BBQ makes the most decadently rich Cuban sandwich in our city. It has co-owner Todd Ginsberg’s artistry painted all over it. I’ve written about it before when it was only available one day a week, but it’s on the regular menu now. They’ve also added some weekend specials: I want the Pig n’ Grits: “smoked pork belly, creamy grits, winter veggie slaw, mustard vinaigrette, maple syrup.” —CL—

 

 

 


Nur Kitchen, 7130 Buford Highway, Suite C-100; 678-691-3821; nurkitchenusa.com; @nurkitchenusa

Aldi, 1461 Moreland Avenue (and 7 other locations), 844-476-1058, aldi.us

Hoa Binh Supermarket, 4897 Buford Highway, 770-457-3383.

Estrellita, 580 Woodward Avenue, 404-390-3038, estrellitafilipino.com

Woods Chapel BBQ, 85 Georgia Avenue, 404-522-3000, woodschapelbbq.com, @woodschapelbbq"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(12937) "I know I’m in a great restaurant when a server looks me in the eyes with a curled lip that says, “I get your sarcasm, motherfucker.”

I was at Nur Kitchen, the “modern Mediterranean” restaurant on Buford Highway that has caused local dining critics’ pens to pulse and spurt for at least a year. While three of us were perusing the menu, the server dropped a magnificent charred, eviscerated, and stuffed whole eggplant on the very close-by table of two women. We ordered one instantly. When the server lowered it toward our table, I noted: “Wait, their eggplant is much bigger than ours.” He shot a glance at theirs and ours and clunked the plate on the table, smiling, and vanished. When he came back, I resumed my complaint. “You understand that the eggplant is an emoji for the penis, right? You have two women at that table and two men and one woman at this one. For obvious reasons, we deserve the larger eggplant.” That’s when his lip curled. In a world that now seriously pathologizes my first language, sarcasm, I am constantly misunderstood. It felt so good to be understood.

And it felt so good, too, to be fed so well. The chef, Shay Lavi, emigrated here in 2015 from Israel and became quickly popular with his catering. He was raised in Tel Aviv in a family with maternal connections to Libya and Turkey. The label “Mediterranean” is a bit confusing. It refers to the cuisines of all countries that border the Mediterranean where wheat and olive oil reign. Nur’s cooking, although featuring a few notes from France and Greece, is mainly what we usually call Middle Eastern, which is also known as West Asian. The French, by the way, love Middle Eastern food, especially Moroccan, and it was my go-to in Paris after exhausting myself in the spectral companionship of Ms. Julia Child. My favorite Middle Eastern food in Atlanta has been mainly Palestinian. My experience of Turkish food was routinely and maddeningly better during trips to Germany than I sampled during the weeks I spent mainly inland in Turkey (while incubating giardia). It’s complicated. However you locate Lavi’s cooking geographically, the taste is unique.

That eggplant was roasted and charred in a brick oven. A lot of people have become nervous when meat is charred because it can eat you alive with its carcinogens. Veggies are safe, though. A char basically means the vegetable’s natural sugar has caramelized, amping up the sweetness but with a bit of homeopathic bitterness. The eggplant’s succulent interior was largely cut into chunks tossed with tahini, mango dressing, and chopped salad. And that brings up my one complaint about the food here. The tabouli, or chopped salad — mainly cucumbers, tomatoes, onions, and parsley with lemon juice — is ubiquitous. If you order one of the pita sandwiches, the main ingredient is the chopped salad. My mouth and my gut don’t really enjoy raw onions much, but we encountered them repeatedly at our meal. (It’s especially not good if your occupation requires you to listen to anxious people and ask them to follow you in taking some deep breaths).

{DIV()}{img fileId="50253" stylebox="float: left; margin-right:25px;" desc="desc" link="" width="300px" responsive="y" button="popup"}{DIV}
The three of us ordered pita sandwiches — one with falafel, one with chicken shawarma, and mine with chicken schnitzel. Happily, the flat, crispy schnitzel waved out of the pita interior where hummus and tahini co-existed with the ton of tabouli (chopped salad). It was really delicious and next time I might go for the entrée plate where the schnitzel is liberated from the profusion of salad. My companions Wayne and Rose piped happily about their sandwiches whose primary ingredients were completely invisible. I scored a taste of Wayne’s falafel and it was startling. I mean it had a depth of vegetarian flavor I don’t think I’ve encountered before. Rose’s shawarma, which is available daily in limited quantities, pleased her so much she did not offer me a taste. The golden house-made pita with which these sandwiches are made is thick, somewhat fluffy, and perfumey like none I remember ever encountering.

 
 

{DIV()}{img fileId="50252" stylebox="float: left; margin-right:25px;" desc="desc" link="" width="300px" responsive="y" button="popup"}{DIV}
We also had to order Nur’s mezze platter, an assortment of six to eight tapas-sized vegetable dishes that change frequently. If Chef Lavi knows you — the restaurant is very social, especially during dinner — you might get some more esoteric and complex tastes, according to Wendell Brock of the ''AJC''. For now, I don’t care because most of the classics like hummus, sour eggplant, and baba ghanoush were startling in the clarity of their ingredients, especially when teamed with the unexpected like a puddle of aioli. You tear up pieces of the perfect pita to scoop up the dips and if there are more than two diners at your table, you’ll wonder why you did not receive more than two of the cushiony pita. So order more. Other small plates during our visit included more prosaic dish fillers like olives, pickled onions, and labneh.


The lunch and dinner menus are the same here and include many other dishes, from burgers (lamb or beef) and grilled chicken thighs to mussels (fried or sautéed) and baklava. A large plate of roasted vegetables draws as many approvals as the mezze. A whole roasted fish is available most days. Many items, like the schnitzel, are available as sandwiches or on entrée plates. The charming dining room is festooned with colorful lamps high above that somehow made me Dream of Jeanie and wonder when someone was going to step out of the kitchen to read Rumi aloud in Farsi (the most beautiful language on the globe). The dining room is small and busy enough that reservations are recommended. Definitely go with friends, because this very sensual food is meant to be shared (even though I refused to share my schnitzel). Don’t forget to taunt the server with sarcasm.

!!~~#0000ff:Shopping~~
 

::{img fileId="50255" desc="desc" styledesc="text-align: left;" width="800px" responsive="y" button="popup"}::

I go to Kroger and Trader Joe’s every week and spend an increasingly ridiculous amount of money on staples alone. Recently, I decided to try out the budget-minded Aldi which has a store near Grant Park. There are annoying aspects like having to insert a quarter in a lock to get a cart. You get the quarter back when you return the cart. Meanwhile, someone might be standing by, asking you for the quarter in your hand. Here ya go, buddy.

Inside, most everything is stacked in boxes instead of being arranged on shelves. Pricing is clear – something Kroger obviously and intentionally avoids. I had conversations with three or four other shoppers there and I was taken aback by everyone’s enthusiasm for the place. A young French student told me it’s the perfect place for “European ingredients.” I didn’t exactly get that until I later read that Aldi and Trader Joe’s have a common European heritage too complicated to describe here.

Savings on produce, including the fruit I’m addicted to, were huge. Much of it is organic, as is much of the meat, if that means anything to you because, frankly, it generally means very little. I bought three varieties of bagged apples, kiwis (which I haven’t eaten in 10 years), mandarin oranges, strawberries, nectarines, grapes, cheeses, chicharrones, a gigantic corned beef, organic chicken breasts, a mesquite-smoked pork loin, wet cat food, and, incidentally, pita bread that cost about $1 and was far better than Kroger’s and Trader Joe’s. By the time I left, I’d spent about $65. I was not totally happy with the bagged apples. They were small and not always crisp. And the pork loin was just weird. I wish I’d found an unseasoned one.

I also visited Hoa Binh, a large Asian market with a Vietnamese name, on Buford Highway. Wayne buys tons of Szechuan pickles and peppers and slimy roots there to put on everything he eats, but I was particularly interested in the fresh Vietnamese specialties wrapped in banana leaves that are sold in the check-out lanes. They are made by the folks who operate a food booth inside the store.

{DIV()}{img fileId="50256" stylebox="float: left; margin-right:25px;" desc="desc" link="" width="500px" responsive="y" button="popup"}{DIV}
I pride myself on loving Asian foods, but the truth is I have some pretty pathetic boundaries. I don’t like strong fish and shrimp paste, for example. I don’t like organ meats. Honestly, I don’t even like brown sauces with muddled tastes of soy sauce. I tried about four of the Vietnamese items. The only one I really liked a lot was the cha lua or “Vietnamese ham” that is often compared to mortadella. Unwrapping it from the banana leaves and plastic wrap is a chore, but the stuff, a frequent banh mi ingredient, is delicious…at room temperature or slightly cool. I did try it in a few warm noodle dishes and did not find it appetizing. Sliced and plunked on a baguette with some sriracha mayo, it’s perfect.



 



 

{DIV()}{img fileId="50257" stylebox="float: left; margin-right:25px;" desc="desc" link="" width="300px" responsive="y"}{DIV}
The most unfamiliar item was two little sweet pyramids, also complexly wrapped in leaves — banh tet chuoi. They are a sticky treat popular during lunar new year (tet). Unwrapping these little beasts was like performing surgery. They had that gummy texture I really don’t like, usually derived from sweetened beans of some type. It’s a funky gummy. I have no idea what the flavors were. I’m guessing the green one was green tea and the brown one was, um, peanut butter? There was mysterious stuff in the core. I also bought two other logs, both of which also turned out to be sweets. The most interesting thing about this experience was detecting the taste of banana leaves. I had no idea they imparted subtle but distinctive flavor. Now I do.

 

!!~~#0000ff:Here and there~~
 

::{img fileId="50258" desc="desc" styledesc="text-align: left;" width="800px" responsive="y"}::

Dude, I’m so over the Krystal at 626 14th Street and Northside Drive. I’ve wanted to try it out ever since it teamed up with Butter.ATL and the Spice Group to basically create a big piece of urban art that serves sliders and Black culture. I finally decided to give it a go last month. Like three times. Despite its marketing claims and signs, it’s not open 24 hours. While the drive-through was open during two visits, the doors were locked. On my third try, two idle employees came out and explained they weren’t open inside. I told them my story. They looked at one another and groaned. One of them explained that they never knew day to day whether to unlock the doors. “We wait for the call,” he said. “You should call our manager.” I said I’d done that but his phone was disconnected. Seriously…..

Following my second abortive attempt to get me a Krystal, I rushed to Mix’d Up to snag a lamb burger, which they had brought back after taking it off the menu earlier. Nope. Off the menu again and “we’re closed anyway.” I rounded the corner and saw that Estrellita, a Filipino restaurant, was all lit up. I raced inside and asked if they were still serving dinner. “No,” the guy said behind the counter. While I was about to kill myself, he said, “Wait. We have a dinner someone ordered but Uber didn’t come get. You can have it for $5.” Hell yeah. A quarter of a spicy, super crunchy chicken and two Filipino-style egg rolls. Check out their ube -– traditional purple ice cream.

!!~~#0000ff:Decadently rich~~
 

{DIV()}{img fileId="50259" stylebox="float: left; margin-right:25px;" desc="desc" link="" width="300px" responsive="y"}{DIV}
I swear Woods Chapel BBQ makes the most decadently rich Cuban sandwich in our city. It has co-owner Todd Ginsberg’s artistry painted all over it. I’ve written about it before when it was only available one day a week, but it’s on the regular menu now. They’ve also added some weekend specials: I want the Pig n’ Grits: “smoked pork belly, creamy grits, winter veggie slaw, mustard vinaigrette, maple syrup.” __—CL—__

 

 

 


''Nur Kitchen, 7130 Buford Highway, Suite C-100; 678-691-3821; [https://www.nurkitchenusa.com/|nurkitchenusa.com]; @nurkitchenusa''

''Aldi, 1461 Moreland Avenue (and 7 other locations), 844-476-1058, [https://www.aldi.us/|aldi.us]''

''Hoa Binh Supermarket, 4897 Buford Highway, 770-457-3383.''

''Estrellita, 580 Woodward Avenue, 404-390-3038, [https://www.estrellitafilipino.com/|estrellitafilipino.com]''

''Woods Chapel BBQ, 85 Georgia Avenue, 404-522-3000, [https://www.woodschapelbbq.com/|woodschapelbbq.com], @woodschapelbbq''"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2022-04-07T21:07:20+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2022-04-07T22:16:59+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_freshness_days"]=>
  int(41)
  ["tracker_field_photos"]=>
  string(5) "50251"
  ["tracker_field_photos_names"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(22) "#1 GRAZ Emoji Exploded"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filenames"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(27) "#1_GRAZ_Emoji_exploded.jpeg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filetypes"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "image/jpeg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_text"]=>
  string(22) "#1 GRAZ Emoji Exploded"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoCredit"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoTitle"]=>
  string(274) "THE EMOJI THAT EXPLODED: Nur Kitchen's "burned eggplant" gives you chunks of creamy, roasted flesh inside charred skin mixed with tahini, chopped salad, and mango dressing. It is a stunning example of Chef Shay Lavi's ability to marry flavors behind carefully crafted chaos."
  ["tracker_field_breadcrumb"]=>
  string(1) "0"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "245"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "245"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_names"]=>
  string(14) "Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_paths"]=>
  string(23) "Content::Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentMiscCategories"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "620"
  }
  ["tracker_field_section_text"]=>
  string(3) "620"
  ["tracker_field_section_names"]=>
  string(7) "Grazing"
  ["tracker_field_section_paths"]=>
  string(46) "Section::Print Features::Food Feature::Grazing"
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "50251"
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
    [1]=>
    int(620)
    [2]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(9) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(245)
    [2]=>
    int(1182)
    [3]=>
    int(1477)
    [4]=>
    int(621)
    [5]=>
    int(620)
    [6]=>
    int(28)
    [7]=>
    int(988)
    [8]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(988)
    [1]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(1477)
    [1]=>
    int(621)
    [2]=>
    int(620)
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["user_groups"]=>
  array(7) {
    [0]=>
    string(22) "Product Representative"
    [1]=>
    string(12) "Wiki Editors"
    [2]=>
    string(17) "CL Correspondents"
    [3]=>
    string(20) "Event Representative"
    [4]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [5]=>
    string(10) "CL Editors"
    [6]=>
    string(27) "Organization Representative"
  }
  ["user_followers"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["like_list"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    string(27) "tiki.file.attach:file:50251"
    [1]=>
    string(145) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:wiki page:Content:_:GRAZING: Swole eggplants at Nur Kitchen, Krystal mendacity, strange little pyramids, lovely kiwis"
    [2]=>
    string(41) "tiki.user.favorite.invert:user:PaigePrier"
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    string(16) "tiki.file.attach"
    [1]=>
    string(27) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert"
    [2]=>
    string(25) "tiki.user.favorite.invert"
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    string(18) "tiki.file.attach:1"
    [1]=>
    string(29) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:1"
    [2]=>
    string(27) "tiki.user.favorite.invert:1"
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "G"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(7) "GRAZING"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item505983"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "505983"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(12709) " #1 GRAZ Emoji Exploded  2022-04-07T21:09:21+00:00 #1_GRAZ_Emoji_exploded.jpeg      Mediterranean, Middle Eastern, or West Asian — a rose by any other name… #1 GRAZ Emoji Exploded   2022-04-07T20:58:36+00:00  GRAZING: Swole eggplants at Nur Kitchen, Krystal mendacity, strange little pyramids, lovely kiwis jim.harris Jim Harris Cliff Bostock cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock) 2022-04-07T20:58:36+00:00 I know I’m in a great restaurant when a server looks me in the eyes with a curled lip that says, “I get your sarcasm, motherfucker.”

I was at Nur Kitchen, the “modern Mediterranean” restaurant on Buford Highway that has caused local dining critics’ pens to pulse and spurt for at least a year. While three of us were perusing the menu, the server dropped a magnificent charred, eviscerated, and stuffed whole eggplant on the very close-by table of two women. We ordered one instantly. When the server lowered it toward our table, I noted: “Wait, their eggplant is much bigger than ours.” He shot a glance at theirs and ours and clunked the plate on the table, smiling, and vanished. When he came back, I resumed my complaint. “You understand that the eggplant is an emoji for the penis, right? You have two women at that table and two men and one woman at this one. For obvious reasons, we deserve the larger eggplant.” That’s when his lip curled. In a world that now seriously pathologizes my first language, sarcasm, I am constantly misunderstood. It felt so good to be understood.

And it felt so good, too, to be fed so well. The chef, Shay Lavi, emigrated here in 2015 from Israel and became quickly popular with his catering. He was raised in Tel Aviv in a family with maternal connections to Libya and Turkey. The label “Mediterranean” is a bit confusing. It refers to the cuisines of all countries that border the Mediterranean where wheat and olive oil reign. Nur’s cooking, although featuring a few notes from France and Greece, is mainly what we usually call Middle Eastern, which is also known as West Asian. The French, by the way, love Middle Eastern food, especially Moroccan, and it was my go-to in Paris after exhausting myself in the spectral companionship of Ms. Julia Child. My favorite Middle Eastern food in Atlanta has been mainly Palestinian. My experience of Turkish food was routinely and maddeningly better during trips to Germany than I sampled during the weeks I spent mainly inland in Turkey (while incubating giardia). It’s complicated. However you locate Lavi’s cooking geographically, the taste is unique.

That eggplant was roasted and charred in a brick oven. A lot of people have become nervous when meat is charred because it can eat you alive with its carcinogens. Veggies are safe, though. A char basically means the vegetable’s natural sugar has caramelized, amping up the sweetness but with a bit of homeopathic bitterness. The eggplant’s succulent interior was largely cut into chunks tossed with tahini, mango dressing, and chopped salad. And that brings up my one complaint about the food here. The tabouli, or chopped salad — mainly cucumbers, tomatoes, onions, and parsley with lemon juice — is ubiquitous. If you order one of the pita sandwiches, the main ingredient is the chopped salad. My mouth and my gut don’t really enjoy raw onions much, but we encountered them repeatedly at our meal. (It’s especially not good if your occupation requires you to listen to anxious people and ask them to follow you in taking some deep breaths).


The three of us ordered pita sandwiches — one with falafel, one with chicken shawarma, and mine with chicken schnitzel. Happily, the flat, crispy schnitzel waved out of the pita interior where hummus and tahini co-existed with the ton of tabouli (chopped salad). It was really delicious and next time I might go for the entrée plate where the schnitzel is liberated from the profusion of salad. My companions Wayne and Rose piped happily about their sandwiches whose primary ingredients were completely invisible. I scored a taste of Wayne’s falafel and it was startling. I mean it had a depth of vegetarian flavor I don’t think I’ve encountered before. Rose’s shawarma, which is available daily in limited quantities, pleased her so much she did not offer me a taste. The golden house-made pita with which these sandwiches are made is thick, somewhat fluffy, and perfumey like none I remember ever encountering.

 
 


We also had to order Nur’s mezze platter, an assortment of six to eight tapas-sized vegetable dishes that change frequently. If Chef Lavi knows you — the restaurant is very social, especially during dinner — you might get some more esoteric and complex tastes, according to Wendell Brock of the AJC. For now, I don’t care because most of the classics like hummus, sour eggplant, and baba ghanoush were startling in the clarity of their ingredients, especially when teamed with the unexpected like a puddle of aioli. You tear up pieces of the perfect pita to scoop up the dips and if there are more than two diners at your table, you’ll wonder why you did not receive more than two of the cushiony pita. So order more. Other small plates during our visit included more prosaic dish fillers like olives, pickled onions, and labneh.


The lunch and dinner menus are the same here and include many other dishes, from burgers (lamb or beef) and grilled chicken thighs to mussels (fried or sautéed) and baklava. A large plate of roasted vegetables draws as many approvals as the mezze. A whole roasted fish is available most days. Many items, like the schnitzel, are available as sandwiches or on entrée plates. The charming dining room is festooned with colorful lamps high above that somehow made me Dream of Jeanie and wonder when someone was going to step out of the kitchen to read Rumi aloud in Farsi (the most beautiful language on the globe). The dining room is small and busy enough that reservations are recommended. Definitely go with friends, because this very sensual food is meant to be shared (even though I refused to share my schnitzel). Don’t forget to taunt the server with sarcasm.

!!Shopping
 

::::

I go to Kroger and Trader Joe’s every week and spend an increasingly ridiculous amount of money on staples alone. Recently, I decided to try out the budget-minded Aldi which has a store near Grant Park. There are annoying aspects like having to insert a quarter in a lock to get a cart. You get the quarter back when you return the cart. Meanwhile, someone might be standing by, asking you for the quarter in your hand. Here ya go, buddy.

Inside, most everything is stacked in boxes instead of being arranged on shelves. Pricing is clear – something Kroger obviously and intentionally avoids. I had conversations with three or four other shoppers there and I was taken aback by everyone’s enthusiasm for the place. A young French student told me it’s the perfect place for “European ingredients.” I didn’t exactly get that until I later read that Aldi and Trader Joe’s have a common European heritage too complicated to describe here.

Savings on produce, including the fruit I’m addicted to, were huge. Much of it is organic, as is much of the meat, if that means anything to you because, frankly, it generally means very little. I bought three varieties of bagged apples, kiwis (which I haven’t eaten in 10 years), mandarin oranges, strawberries, nectarines, grapes, cheeses, chicharrones, a gigantic corned beef, organic chicken breasts, a mesquite-smoked pork loin, wet cat food, and, incidentally, pita bread that cost about $1 and was far better than Kroger’s and Trader Joe’s. By the time I left, I’d spent about $65. I was not totally happy with the bagged apples. They were small and not always crisp. And the pork loin was just weird. I wish I’d found an unseasoned one.

I also visited Hoa Binh, a large Asian market with a Vietnamese name, on Buford Highway. Wayne buys tons of Szechuan pickles and peppers and slimy roots there to put on everything he eats, but I was particularly interested in the fresh Vietnamese specialties wrapped in banana leaves that are sold in the check-out lanes. They are made by the folks who operate a food booth inside the store.


I pride myself on loving Asian foods, but the truth is I have some pretty pathetic boundaries. I don’t like strong fish and shrimp paste, for example. I don’t like organ meats. Honestly, I don’t even like brown sauces with muddled tastes of soy sauce. I tried about four of the Vietnamese items. The only one I really liked a lot was the cha lua or “Vietnamese ham” that is often compared to mortadella. Unwrapping it from the banana leaves and plastic wrap is a chore, but the stuff, a frequent banh mi ingredient, is delicious…at room temperature or slightly cool. I did try it in a few warm noodle dishes and did not find it appetizing. Sliced and plunked on a baguette with some sriracha mayo, it’s perfect.



 



 


The most unfamiliar item was two little sweet pyramids, also complexly wrapped in leaves — banh tet chuoi. They are a sticky treat popular during lunar new year (tet). Unwrapping these little beasts was like performing surgery. They had that gummy texture I really don’t like, usually derived from sweetened beans of some type. It’s a funky gummy. I have no idea what the flavors were. I’m guessing the green one was green tea and the brown one was, um, peanut butter? There was mysterious stuff in the core. I also bought two other logs, both of which also turned out to be sweets. The most interesting thing about this experience was detecting the taste of banana leaves. I had no idea they imparted subtle but distinctive flavor. Now I do.

 

!!Here and there
 

::::

Dude, I’m so over the Krystal at 626 14th Street and Northside Drive. I’ve wanted to try it out ever since it teamed up with Butter.ATL and the Spice Group to basically create a big piece of urban art that serves sliders and Black culture. I finally decided to give it a go last month. Like three times. Despite its marketing claims and signs, it’s not open 24 hours. While the drive-through was open during two visits, the doors were locked. On my third try, two idle employees came out and explained they weren’t open inside. I told them my story. They looked at one another and groaned. One of them explained that they never knew day to day whether to unlock the doors. “We wait for the call,” he said. “You should call our manager.” I said I’d done that but his phone was disconnected. Seriously…..

Following my second abortive attempt to get me a Krystal, I rushed to Mix’d Up to snag a lamb burger, which they had brought back after taking it off the menu earlier. Nope. Off the menu again and “we’re closed anyway.” I rounded the corner and saw that Estrellita, a Filipino restaurant, was all lit up. I raced inside and asked if they were still serving dinner. “No,” the guy said behind the counter. While I was about to kill myself, he said, “Wait. We have a dinner someone ordered but Uber didn’t come get. You can have it for $5.” Hell yeah. A quarter of a spicy, super crunchy chicken and two Filipino-style egg rolls. Check out their ube -– traditional purple ice cream.

!!Decadently rich
 


I swear Woods Chapel BBQ makes the most decadently rich Cuban sandwich in our city. It has co-owner Todd Ginsberg’s artistry painted all over it. I’ve written about it before when it was only available one day a week, but it’s on the regular menu now. They’ve also added some weekend specials: I want the Pig n’ Grits: “smoked pork belly, creamy grits, winter veggie slaw, mustard vinaigrette, maple syrup.” —CL—

 

 

 


Nur Kitchen, 7130 Buford Highway, Suite C-100; 678-691-3821; nurkitchenusa.com; @nurkitchenusa

Aldi, 1461 Moreland Avenue (and 7 other locations), 844-476-1058, aldi.us

Hoa Binh Supermarket, 4897 Buford Highway, 770-457-3383.

Estrellita, 580 Woodward Avenue, 404-390-3038, estrellitafilipino.com

Woods Chapel BBQ, 85 Georgia Avenue, 404-522-3000, woodschapelbbq.com, @woodschapelbbq    Cliff Bostock THE EMOJI THAT EXPLODED: Nur Kitchen's "burned eggplant" gives you chunks of creamy, roasted flesh inside charred skin mixed with tahini, chopped salad, and mango dressing. It is a stunning example of Chef Shay Lavi's ability to marry flavors behind carefully crafted chaos.                             GRAZING: Swole eggplants at Nur Kitchen, Krystal mendacity, strange little pyramids, lovely kiwis "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(35) "atlantawiki_tiki_main_6285dce1d165e"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(275) " GRAZING: Swole eggplants at Nur Kitchen, Krystal mendacity, strange little pyramids, lovely kiwis"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(140) "

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(85) "Mediterranean, Middle Eastern, or West Asian — a rose by any other name…"
  ["eventDate"]=>
  string(85) "Mediterranean, Middle Eastern, or West Asian — a rose by any other name…"
  ["noads"]=>
  string(10) "y"
}

array(105) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(41) "GRAZING: Eating the world over in the ATL"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2022-02-03T21:25:53+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2022-02-03T21:25:53+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2022-02-03T21:18:30+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["parent_object_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["parent_object_type"]=>
  string(7) "tracker"
  ["field_permissions"]=>
  string(2) "[]"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(41) "GRAZING: Eating the world over in the ATL"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator"]=>
  string(10) "jim.harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_text"]=>
  string(10) "Jim Harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_unstemmed"]=>
  string(10) "jim harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "476087"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(33) "cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock)"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(32) "Our food critic eats to the beat"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(32) "Our food critic eats to the beat"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2022-02-03T21:18:30+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(51) "Content:_:GRAZING: Eating the world over in the ATL"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(48) "



















—CL—"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(9948) "{BOX()}{imagefloatleft imageid="47670" wdthval="300px"}
!!__Daily Chew__
My favorite lunch in the last month came from this restaurant operated by the zen-nishly named Stop Think Chew, which delivers clean, locally sourced meals. At this new venue, diners can order at a window for takeout or enjoy the recently opened dining room. It’s a cozy informal space with full table service. I’ve sampled two dishes and both were seriously spectacular. One was a pita sandwich stuffed with veriasso smoked salmon with lemon labneh (thick yogurt). Other flavors included onions, capers, dill, sumac, and salad greens. The second dish was a roasted veggie salad (to which I pointlessly added rotisserie chicken). Flavors include salad greens, tahini, cabbage, hummus, pickles, and charred eggplant, which never tasted so good before. — Cliff Bostock

''Daily Chew, 2127 Liddell Dr., 404-600-4155, [https://dailychewatl.com|dailychewatl.com]  IG & FB: @dailychewatl''{BOX}

{BOX()}{imagefloatleft imageid="47674" wdthval="300px"}
!!__Nam Phuong__
Vietnamese food is flourishing to a degree it hasn’t since the early ‘80s. Recently, restaurants like Pho Cue have taken the historic, elegant hybrid of Southeast Asian and French cuisine for a ride through Texas bbq pits. If you want to stay true to the original, Nam Phuong is the place to go. At least twice a month, I feast on classic rice noodles topped with shrimp, caramelized pork, pickled carrots, and lettuce. Dump the entire container of fish sauce on the bowl. (I add extra sriracha.) Two spring rolls round out my meal. There is much, much more on the menu. — Cliff Bostock

''Nam Phuong, 4051 Buford Hwy., 404-633-2400, and 5495 Jimmy Carter Blvd., 770-409-8686. [https://tinyurl.com/yaqv85qs|Menu]''{BOX}

{BOX()}{imagefloatleft imageid="47671" wdthval="300px"}
!!__El Tesoro__
Few restaurants have eased the pain of COVID takeout as much as this treasure. There is no indoor seating, but even in winter, people are showing up to graze in the huge open-air dining room. Tequila raises the temperature as much as the six fire pits. I’ve never eaten anything bad here but, then, I haven’t eaten anything but the mulita in the last year or so. It’s basically a quesadilla made of two stacked corn tortillas filled with melted cheese and poblano/onion rajas, plus the meat or vegetarian alternative of your choice. There’s more! The outside of both tortillas is seared with cheese. Then you dribble crema on top. It’s under $10! There’s a lot else I’d like to try here, above all the appropriately twice-cooked carnitas. — Cliff Bostock

''El Tesoro, 1374 Awkright Place, 470-440-5502, [https://eltesoro.com|eltesoro.com]  FB, IG, T: @eltesoroatl''{BOX}

{BOX()}{imagefloatleft imageid="47668" wdthval="300px"}
!!__BoccaLupo__
If there’s any restaurant I love that I have been unfaithful to during the last few years, this is it. Chef-owner Bruce Logue reeducated my palate around 2010 when he came from Babbo in New York to work at La Pietra Cucina. He convinced me that Italian-American food was not all a corrupt impersonation of classic Italian cooking but a cuisine of its own. I ate lunch at Pietra weekly for two years. Nothing at BoccaLupo is even mediocre but if you want your tongue to sing, drape it with black spaghetti, hot Calabrese sausage, and red shrimp. You might want to tune up first with marsala glazed octopus with saffron potatoes. — Cliff Bostock

''BoccaLupo, 753 Edgewood Ave., 404-577-2332, [https://boccalupoatl.com|boccalupoatl.com]  FB, IG, T: @boccalupoatl''{BOX}

{BOX()}{imagefloatleft imageid="47673" wdthval="300px"}
!!__Masterpiece__
You might remember the War of 10,000 Chinese Chefs about 10 years ago, maybe more. Chefs of legendary skill, fame, and peculiarity appeared and disappeared here like tastebuds poisoned by Sichuan peppercorns. Luckily, Rui Liu, a truly extraordinary chef of mainly Sichuan style, has remained at this restaurant. I’m sorry that it’s located in Duluth, but it’s worth an expedition. Whenever you read about the place, two dishes are immediately mentioned — the dry-fried eggplant and the braised pork belly. The latter comes to the table looking something like a glossy black meatloaf and really does taste like nothing you’ve ever eaten, which is to say that I don’t have adequate adjectives at hand. The eggplant is no silly emoji, but it has all the polarized textures and flavors of man at his complicated best: crackly and a bit salty on the outside but lovingly creamy and a bit fiery-sweet on the inside. Yup. — Cliff Bostock

''Masterpiece, 3940 Buford Hwy., Duluth, 770-622-1191, [https://masterpieceduluth.com|masterpieceduluth.com] ''{BOX}

{BOX()}{imagefloatleft imageid="47688" wdthval="300px"}
!!__The Varsity__
I want you to go here, as I did last year. I was shocked that I loved the onion rings and the fried peach pie. I hated the dawgs and I annoyed someone so much that he sent me an emailed death threat: “Leave the Varsity hot dog alone, asshole. There are more painful ways to put you out of your misery than making you shit too much.” Thanks, bro, I ‘preciate the scatological warnings! I had written: “The hot dog of course was the most revolting thing I’ve put in my mouth since I was potty-trained. The greasy, stinky, yellow-stained chili made with ground-up mystery meat was slimed with hidden slaw from hell and yellow cheese that wouldn’t melt. Somehow, the baloney-tasting hot dog itself and its bun literally broke as if it were crying to be put out of its misery. Two bites and I was done. Sorry, dog.” Go, eat, and tell me I was wrong. — Cliff Bostock

''The Varsity, 61 North Ave., 404-881-1706, [https://thevarsity.com|thevarsity.com]  FB: @thevarsity. IG, T: @thevarsity1928''{BOX}

{BOX()}{imagefloatleft imageid="47672" wdthval="300px"}
!!__Little Bear __
When COVID ruined our lives by throwing us into a medieval prison of our own thoughts two years ago, this restaurant had just opened in Summerhill.  Chef/owner Jarrett Stieber, well known for his earlier pop-up, Eat Me Speak Me, was forced to limit himself to take-out, which was by far the best and weirdest I’ve eaten ever since the flu pandemic of 1918. Now, the restaurant has reopened its small dining room, takeout has been discontinued, and you can eat at a table like a champ! At this writing, you’ll encounter dishes whose menu descriptions add up to a free-form poetic food fight: “chicken liver custard winter citrus gelee, greasy pickles, chocolate strange flavor sauce, gem lettuce cups.” Go ahead and “treat yo’self! Add caviar yogurt” to your root-veg latke. You can order a la carte or drop $48 per person for a prix fixe, four-course meal. — Cliff Bostock

''Little Bear, 71-A Georgia Ave., 404-500-5396, [https://littlebear.com|littlebear.com]  IG, T: @littlebearatl''{BOX}

{BOX()}{imagefloatleft imageid="47675" wdthval="300px"}
!!__Supremo Taco__
This taqueria with a walk-up window and a small patio for dining-while-standing is adjacent to  Grindhouse Killer Burgers’ parking lot. You probably didn’t know there is intense competition in our city — sort of — to create a perfect rendition of southern California’s Chicano street food. This is the winner! I absolutely love the tacos here, especially the lamb barbacoa with consommé, the al pastor, and the chicken mole. But I gotta be honest. I made a pact with myself after ordering takeout four or five times to always eat on the premises, even if it meant squatting in the parking lot. The reason is that they were  piling way too much in the same takeout containers. By the time I’d get home — which isn’t far — I’d have a gooey mess. On the very rare occasion I do takeout, I order the fried quesadilla or choriqueso only, maybe some churros. They withstand the journey. Above all, I discourage you from ordering online, because you likely won’t be getting something as fresh as when you order at the window. — Cliff Bostock

''Supremo Taco, 701-B Memorial Dr., 404-965-1446, [https://supremotaco.com|supremotaco.com]  IG, FB: @supremoguey''{BOX}

{BOX()}{imagefloatleft imageid="47669" wdthval="300px"}
!!__Chattahoochee Food Works__
Food halls, formerly known as food courts, have evolved into something like surreal upscale carnival binge-a-ramas. This latest and greatest is part of The Works, a warehouse development on the West Side, repurposed into another mixed-use golden ghetto. The food hall, with seriously pedigreed designers, maintains a human scale despite its 22,000 square feet. It is a step way above the echo chambers of the Valhallas of Krog Street and Ponce de Leon. You can find some fab food here — from South African and Vietnamese to noodles, cupcakes, and Lebanese barbecue. There are 31 booths and areas that allow you to sit back and chill instead of wolfing down, oh, six kimchi corn dogs and fleeing to a restroom for a moment of silence.—Cliff Bostock

''Chattahoochee Food Works, 1235 Chattahoochee Ave., [https://chattahoocheefoodworks.com|chattahoocheefoodworks.com]  IG, FB: @chattahoocheefoodworks''{BOX}

{BOX()}{imagefloatleft imageid="47667" wdthval="300px"}
!!__Big Softie__
For years, I’ve been addicted to the Toffee-Coffee Arctic Swirl at most Zestos. Now, at last, I have found an alternative in Grant Park. Big Softie! True story: I heard about it from a friend’s mother who was dying in a hospital north of the city. She said soft-serve ice cream would be a perfect last meaI and I offered to pick up something rich, creamy, cold, and confusing. She swooned — in a good way, not a death-rattle way. My go to: vanilla ice cream, pink praline, toasted coconut, and a caramel coating — Cliff Bostock

''Big Softie, 66 Georgia Ave. (no phone), [https://bigsoftieatl.com|bigsoftieatl.com], IG, FB: bigsoftieatl''{BOX}

__—CL—__"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2022-02-03T21:25:53+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2022-02-03T22:22:24+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_freshness_days"]=>
  int(104)
  ["tracker_field_photos"]=>
  string(5) "47681"
  ["tracker_field_photos_names"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "VARSITY Lg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filenames"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(14) "VARSITY_lg.jpg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filetypes"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "image/jpeg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_text"]=>
  string(10) "VARSITY Lg"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoCredit"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoTitle"]=>
  string(201) "THE VARSITY: The chili-cheese dog shrinks in broken inferiority beside a cluster of towering onion rings tingling with grease and a fried peach pie that prepares to unsheath itself and submit to teeth."
  ["tracker_field_breadcrumb"]=>
  string(1) "0"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "245"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "245"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_names"]=>
  string(14) "Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_paths"]=>
  string(23) "Content::Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(4) "1174"
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene_text"]=>
  string(4) "1174"
  ["tracker_field_scene_names"]=>
  string(6) "Foodie"
  ["tracker_field_scene_paths"]=>
  string(14) "Scenes::Foodie"
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentLocation"]=>
  string(6) "0,0,18"
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentMiscCategories"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "749"
    [1]=>
    string(3) "620"
  }
  ["tracker_field_section_text"]=>
  string(7) "749 620"
  ["tracker_field_section_names"]=>
  string(20) "Food Portal, Grazing"
  ["tracker_field_section_paths"]=>
  string(77) "Section::Portals::Food Portal, Section::Print Features::Food Feature::Grazing"
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "47681"
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(5) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
    [1]=>
    int(620)
    [2]=>
    int(749)
    [3]=>
    int(1174)
    [4]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(13) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(245)
    [2]=>
    int(1182)
    [3]=>
    int(1477)
    [4]=>
    int(621)
    [5]=>
    int(620)
    [6]=>
    int(743)
    [7]=>
    int(749)
    [8]=>
    int(564)
    [9]=>
    int(1174)
    [10]=>
    int(28)
    [11]=>
    int(988)
    [12]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(988)
    [1]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(1174)
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(1174)
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(5) {
    [0]=>
    int(1477)
    [1]=>
    int(621)
    [2]=>
    int(620)
    [3]=>
    int(743)
    [4]=>
    int(749)
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["user_groups"]=>
  array(7) {
    [0]=>
    string(22) "Product Representative"
    [1]=>
    string(12) "Wiki Editors"
    [2]=>
    string(17) "CL Correspondents"
    [3]=>
    string(20) "Event Representative"
    [4]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [5]=>
    string(10) "CL Editors"
    [6]=>
    string(27) "Organization Representative"
  }
  ["user_followers"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["like_list"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(27) "tiki.file.attach:file:47681"
    [1]=>
    string(89) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:wiki page:Content:_:GRAZING: Eating the world over in the ATL"
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(16) "tiki.file.attach"
    [1]=>
    string(27) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert"
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(18) "tiki.file.attach:1"
    [1]=>
    string(29) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:1"
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "G"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(7) "GRAZING"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item502813"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "502813"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(614) " VARSITY Lg  2022-02-03T21:23:58+00:00 VARSITY_lg.jpg      Our food critic eats to the beat VARSITY Lg   2022-02-03T21:18:30+00:00  GRAZING: Eating the world over in the ATL jim.harris Jim Harris Cliff Bostock cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock) 2022-02-03T21:18:30+00:00 



















—CL—    Cliff Bostock THE VARSITY: The chili-cheese dog shrinks in broken inferiority beside a cluster of towering onion rings tingling with grease and a fried peach pie that prepares to unsheath itself and submit to teeth.  0,0,18                           GRAZING: Eating the world over in the ATL "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(35) "atlantawiki_tiki_main_6285dce1d165e"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(219) " GRAZING: Eating the world over in the ATL"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(128) "

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(41) "Our food critic eats to the beat"
  ["eventDate"]=>
  string(41) "Our food critic eats to the beat"
  ["noads"]=>
  string(10) "y"
}

array(105) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(22) "GRAZING - January 2022"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2022-01-22T18:48:43+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2022-01-04T21:40:15+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "ben.eason"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2022-01-04T21:25:30+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["parent_object_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["parent_object_type"]=>
  string(7) "tracker"
  ["field_permissions"]=>
  string(2) "[]"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(22) "GRAZING - January 2022"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator"]=>
  string(10) "jim.harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_text"]=>
  string(10) "Jim Harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_unstemmed"]=>
  string(10) "jim harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "476087"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(33) "cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock)"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(52) "Cliff Bostock's January 2022 Grazing Recommendations"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(52) "Cliff Bostock's January 2022 Grazing Recommendations"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2022-01-04T21:25:30+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(32) "Content:_:GRAZING - January 2022"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(152) "
 



 



 



 



 



 



 



 



 



 



 



 



 


 


 

 

 "
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(12375) "{BOX( bg="#f2d9a6")}
{imagefloatright imageid="46689" wdthval="300px"}__Poco Loco__

This breakfast takeout joint in Kirkwood gives full expression to the wacky imagination and humor of its owner, Nick Melvin. Three fat, perfectly rolled breakfast burritos are offered daily – one for carnivores, one for ovo-lacto-vegetarians, and one for kids. Just as compelling are daily-changing provisions in a case next to the cash register. You’ll find, for example, Atlanta’s realest carnitas, sauces, soups, and other entrees for home heating. — Cliff Bostock

''Poco Loco, 2233 College Ave., open 7:30 a.m.-1 p.m. Thursday-Friday and 8 a.m.-1 p.m. Saturday, no phone. Find the week’s menu and place advance orders on the website, pocolocoatl.com, IG & FB: @pocolocoatl''
{BOX}
 

{BOX( style="border-width: 6px; border-color: #a97918; border-style: solid;")}
{imagefloatleft imageid="46688" wdthval="300px"}__Pho Cue__

Vietnamese cuisine, wildly popular in the late ‘80s and ‘90s, has surged again and even been upgraded with Texas BBQ here. That means lots of juicy, house-smoked brisket (as well as chicken and pork) to add to the A+ pho or fries with typical pickled and fresh veggies. There are frequent specials that respect your redneck tongue’s refusal to eat foreign food — chili-cheese dogs and bacon-cheese burgers, for example. The regular menu’s smoked wings are extremely popular. — Cliff Bostock

''Pho Cue, 925 Garrett St., 404-549-7595, eatphocue.com, IG & FB: @eatphocue ''
{BOX}

 

{BOX( bg="#f2d9a6")}
{imagefloatright imageid="46681" wdthval="300px"}__Che Butter Jonez__

You know your mouth starts salivating when you see a burger named “That Shit Slambing.” That shit is actually a delicious smashed lamb burger that got its start on the owners’ food truck before they opened this brick-and-mortar location just south of the airport. The shrimp fries are also deservedly popular, as is the ever evolving and dissolving Who Let Mookie Make the Pasta. Obviously, owners Malik Rhasaan and wife Detric Fox-Quinlan have a sense of humor that comes with a political sensibility that made Malik a leader in the Occupy Hood movement. I mean, who names their restaurant after Che Guevara and shea butter? Best advice: Don’t head here unless you check out the day’s often irregular hours on social media or their website. — Cliff Bostock

''Che Butter Jonez, 757 Cleveland Ave., 404-919-4061, chebutterjonez.com, FB & IG: @chebutterjonez ''
{BOX}

 

{BOX( style="border-width: 6px; border-color: #a97918; border-style: solid;")}
{imagefloatleft imageid="46691" wdthval="300px"}__Tum Pok Pok__

This restaurant’s doorway became a place for food critics to genuflect throughout 2021. It’s Thai but unique in its emphasis on the quite spicy cuisine of the country’s northeast area, Isan. The simple shredded papaya salad (somtum) will instantly remind you that you once dreamed of becoming a fire eater in a carnival sideshow. Ditto for the larb. Besides these Isan specialties, Tum Pok Pok has a menu of street food popular throughout Thailand yet still rare in our city. Try the stir-fried crispy pork in a basil sauce. Pray over the pad Thai pok pok. — Cliff Bostock

''Tum Pok Pok, 5000 Buford Hwy., 404-990-4688, tumpokpok.com, IG: @tum_pok_pok, FB: @TPPUSA ''
{BOX}

 

{BOX( bg="#f2d9a6")}
{imagefloatright imageid="46680" wdthval="300px"}__Carrot Dog__

If you dislike hot dogs and find carrots boring, you need to try this vegan pop-up at the Window outside the MET. Kemi Benning brines hefty carrots in spicy brews and nestles them in grilled buns with a variety of toppings. My fave has been the Southern Santa Fe topped with chopped romaine lettuce, sliced avocados, smoked chipotle mayo, chopped onions, and vegan bacon. — Cliff Bostock

''Carrot Dog, 680 Murphy Ave. (outside the MET), 404-447-8451, 12-4 p.m. Saturdays only, kemibenning.com. Call or check IG — @foodforthoughtvegancafe — to make sure they are open.''
{BOX}

 

{BOX( style="border-width: 6px; border-color: #a97918; border-style: solid;")}
{imagefloatleft imageid="46678" wdthval="300px"}__Bomb Biscuits__

Are you looking for a new substance addiction? Go to this former pop-up now in Irwin Street Market for Erika Council’s buttermilk biscuits. Specifically go for the breakfast sandwiches. Most people love the fried chicken breast, especially good when drenched in hot honey, but my favorite is the country ham. By all means follow the menu’s suggestion to add the house-made pimento cheese. You won’t believe it. Erika is also making cinnamon buns. — Cliff Bostock

''Bomb Biscuits, 660 Irwin St., 678-949-9439. Open 10 a.m.-2 p.m. Thurs. & Fri. and 9 a.m.-2 p.m. Sat. & Sun. Order online only at bombiscuital.com, IG: @bombbiscuitatl.com''
{BOX}

 

{BOX( bg="#f2d9a6")}
{imagefloatright imageid="46683" wdthval="300px"}__El Viñedo Local__

Another restaurant that opened just in time for the pandemic’s reduced hours, this South American café in Midtown is now serving breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The menu includes especially well made arepas, empanadas and sandwiches, plus plates like ceviche and fried fish. There are also bracing coffees and South American wines available. Favorites include the ceviche and the empanada filled with finely chopped beef, green olives, and boiled eggs. — Cliff Bostock

''El Viñedo Local, 730 Peachtree St., 404-596-8239, elvinedolocal.com, IG & FB: @elvinedolocal''
{BOX}

 

{BOX( style="border-width: 6px; border-color: #a97918; border-style: solid;")}
{imagefloatleft imageid="46679" wdthval="300px"}__Botica__

If you’re looking for Mexican food partly spiked with Italian, Spanish, and Lebanese flavors in a restaurant with countless sports-watching screens and an awesome patio, this is your best destination. Opened by Chef Mimmo Alboumeh, the former owner of Red Pepper Taqueria, the restaurant’s best choice by far is the paella served at dinner on Wednesdays. Among the best tacos are lamb birria and the pork pibil. If you want a starter to share, consider the gigantic and dramatic tamales coated in white crema, sitting in a pool of salsa morita. You can drink a lot here. — Cliff Bostock

''Botica, 1820 Peachtree Road, 404-228-6358, eatbotica.com, IG: @boticaatl, FB: @eatbotica''
{BOX}

 

{BOX( bg="#f2d9a6")}
{imagefloatright imageid="46690" wdthval="300px"}__Rodney Scott’s Whole Hog BBQ__

Charleston chef Rodney Scott is one of America’s royal pit masters, having won the James Beard award for best chef in the Southeast in 2018. He published a long awaited cookbook last year and also opened a restaurant here across from the MET on the Westside. The big deal here is that the restaurant smokes “whole hogs” over wood fires and your barbecue plate or sandwich includes pulled meat from different body parts. Call it “snout to tail ‘cue.” Personally, I found it a little dry, but adding Scott’s vinegar-based sauce quickly remedies that problem. Don’t miss the hushpuppies and the honey-butter. The menu is huge and includes plenty of other Southern favorites to feed sacrilegious diners who don’t like barbecue. — Cliff Bostock

''Rodney Scott’s Whole Hog BBQ, 668 Metropolitan Parkway, S.W., 678-855-7377, rodneyscottsbbq.com ''
{BOX}

 

{BOX( style="border-width: 6px; border-color: #a97918; border-style: solid;")}
{imagefloatleft imageid="46685" wdthval="300px"}__Kura Revolving Sushi Bar__

Have you ever eaten sushi on a ferris wheel? That’s kinda what the experience at this restaurant is like. Countless plates of sushi skitter by on a conveyor belt and your task is to grab them before they get beyond your reach. An upper conveyor belt delivers a broader menu of food specifically ordered via a tableside device. I have to say you get what you pay for here — inexpensive medium-grade sushi — but it’s fun. And fast. — Cliff Bostock

''Kura Revolving Sushi Bar, 6035 Peachtree Rd., Doraville, 480-255-2071, kurasushi.com/locations/doraville-ga/''
{BOX}

 

{BOX( bg="#f2d9a6")}
{imagefloatright imageid="46677" wdthval="300px"}__The Abby Singer__

You’re always looking for food with a Midwestern twang, right? Find it at this rather peculiar gastropub inside the Pratt Pullman Yard, where the gigantic “Van Gogh: The Immersive Experience” was located for about six months (and will be reopening elsewhere in Atlanta in March). The big deal here is the Juicy Lucy, a half-pound burger stuffed with cheese, but I was more smitten by the fried cheese curds that Canadian and Wisconsin fugitives cry for constantly. Get a seat at the bar and chat with the bartender Abby — not ''the'' Abby — who pastors a church and is fluent in liberation theology and boozeology. — Cliff Bostock

''The Abby Singer, 225 Rogers St. N.E., #11 in the Pratt Pullman District, secondmeal-llc.com. IG: @the.abby.singer, FB & Twitter: @theabbysinger''
{BOX}

 

{BOX( style="border-width: 6px; border-color: #a97918; border-style: solid;")}
{imagefloatleft imageid="46686" wdthval="300px"}__Mercer Street Meals__

The pandemic has brought about some long-needed changes in the dining industry. One of those is access to quality restaurant food for takeout at reasonable prices. The leader in Atlanta is this operation by Lance Gummere, one of our city’s chefs expert at tweaking Southern comfort food into something special. Plates with entrees, sides, and dessert cost only $25 for two. A typical meal is coq au vin with cavatappi pasta, arugula and baby kale salad, and bread pudding. — Cliff Bostock

''Mercer Street Meals, 404-713-6001, order online at mercerstreetmeals.com, FB & IG: @mercerstreetmeals''
{BOX}

 

{BOX( bg="#f2d9a6")}
{imagefloatright imageid="46684" wdthval="300px"}__Elsewhere Brewing__

It’s well known that there’s a large population of Italians in Argentina and that’s one theme here. You can find a mash-up of flavors in Argentinian-style milanesa napolitana and empanadas filled with mozzarella and wild mushrooms. The hybridization broadens with chimichurri hummus and beer-glazed Amish chicken with oregano. Craving a sandwich? Try the super-rich choripan. It’s a soft, house-made white roll layered with grilled, locally made chorizo sausage, served with a bracing chimichurri sauce and a salsa criolla made with mild red peppers (put both on the sandwich). It’s located in the Beacon development in Grant Park. — Cliff Bostock

''Elsewhere Brewing, 1039 Grant St., 770-727-0009, elsewherebrewing.com, IG: @elsewherebrewing, FB: @elsewherebrewingco''
{BOX}

 

{BOX( style="border-width: 6px; border-color: #a97918; border-style: solid;")}
{imagefloatleft imageid="46687" wdthval="300px"}__OK Yaki__

Are you obsessed with the okonomiyaki? I am sick of that word, “obsessed,” but if you have to use it, apply it to this Japanese pancake that has been a “thing” everywhere for quite a while. OK Yaki describes it this way: “Japanese savory pancake made by mixing a rich batter with cabbage, green onions, pickled ginger, tenkasu and nagaimo. Fired on both sides and topped with okonomi sauce, Kewpie mayo, seaweed flakes, bonito flakes and one topping.” I like the pork belly topping. There are other dishes, including noodles and small plates for sharing here. If you eat inside, you’re going to have to prove vaccination proof. There is a large patio where you can breathe easy. Did I mention that it’s really cheap? — Cliff Bostock

''OK Yaki, 714 Moreland Ave. 404-999-9254, okyakiatl.com, IG &FB: @okyakiatl''
{BOX}
 

{BOX( bg="#f2d9a6")}
{imagefloatright imageid="46682" wdthval="300px"}__Cremalosa__

Here’s the place I haven’t been that I most want to visit. It’s operated by Meridith Ford, formerly dining critic for the ''AJC''. It’s already won just about every “best of” competition around. The shop churns out 9 or 10 gelato flavors daily and two seasonal sorbets. I want to put my head in a gigantic vat of the Mascarpone and Caramelized Fig but I wouldn’t pass on the Butterscotch Macadamia Brittle. — Cliff Bostock

''Cremalosa, 2657 East College Avenue, Decatur, 404-600-6085, cremalosa.com, IG: @cremalosa_gelato, FB: @cremalosaatlanta''
{BOX}
 

 

 "
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2022-01-04T21:40:15+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2022-01-12T16:46:33+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_freshness_days"]=>
  int(126)
  ["tracker_field_photos"]=>
  string(5) "46692"
  ["tracker_field_photos_names"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(16) "GRAZ TUM POK POK"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filenames"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(21) "GRAZ_TUM_POK_POK.jpeg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filetypes"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "image/jpeg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_text"]=>
  string(16) "GRAZ TUM POK POK"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoCredit"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoTitle"]=>
  string(86) "TUM POK POK: Beyond the Wall of Bric-a-Brac is the city’s newest and best Thai food."
  ["tracker_field_breadcrumb"]=>
  string(1) "0"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "245"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "245"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_names"]=>
  string(14) "Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_paths"]=>
  string(23) "Content::Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(4) "1174"
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene_text"]=>
  string(4) "1174"
  ["tracker_field_scene_names"]=>
  string(6) "Foodie"
  ["tracker_field_scene_paths"]=>
  string(14) "Scenes::Foodie"
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentLocation"]=>
  string(6) "0,0,10"
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentMiscCategories"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "747"
    [1]=>
    string(3) "749"
    [2]=>
    string(3) "620"
  }
  ["tracker_field_section_text"]=>
  string(11) "747 749 620"
  ["tracker_field_section_names"]=>
  string(30) "HomePage, Food Portal, Grazing"
  ["tracker_field_section_paths"]=>
  string(96) "Section::HomePage, Section::Portals::Food Portal, Section::Print Features::Food Feature::Grazing"
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "46692"
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(6) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
    [1]=>
    int(620)
    [2]=>
    int(747)
    [3]=>
    int(749)
    [4]=>
    int(1174)
    [5]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(14) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(245)
    [2]=>
    int(1182)
    [3]=>
    int(1477)
    [4]=>
    int(621)
    [5]=>
    int(620)
    [6]=>
    int(747)
    [7]=>
    int(743)
    [8]=>
    int(749)
    [9]=>
    int(564)
    [10]=>
    int(1174)
    [11]=>
    int(28)
    [12]=>
    int(988)
    [13]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(988)
    [1]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(1174)
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(1174)
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(747)
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(6) {
    [0]=>
    int(1477)
    [1]=>
    int(621)
    [2]=>
    int(620)
    [3]=>
    int(747)
    [4]=>
    int(743)
    [5]=>
    int(749)
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["user_groups"]=>
  array(9) {
    [0]=>
    string(22) "Product Representative"
    [1]=>
    string(12) "Wiki Editors"
    [2]=>
    string(17) "CL Correspondents"
    [3]=>
    string(20) "Event Representative"
    [4]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [5]=>
    string(10) "CL Editors"
    [6]=>
    string(27) "Organization Representative"
    [7]=>
    string(18) "Account Executives"
    [8]=>
    string(7) "Artists"
  }
  ["user_followers"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "jonny"
    [1]=>
    string(14) "thevinylwarhol"
  }
  ["like_list"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(27) "tiki.file.attach:file:46692"
    [1]=>
    string(70) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:wiki page:Content:_:GRAZING - January 2022"
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(16) "tiki.file.attach"
    [1]=>
    string(27) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert"
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(18) "tiki.file.attach:1"
    [1]=>
    string(29) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:1"
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "G"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(7) "GRAZING"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item501027"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "501027"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(604) " GRAZ TUM POK POK  2022-01-04T21:38:46+00:00 GRAZ_TUM_POK_POK.jpeg      Cliff Bostock's January 2022 Grazing Recommendations GRAZ TUM POK POK   2022-01-04T21:25:30+00:00  GRAZING - January 2022 jim.harris Jim Harris Cliff Bostock cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock) 2022-01-04T21:25:30+00:00 
 



 



 



 



 



 



 



 



 



 



 



 



 


 


 

 

     Cliff Bostock TUM POK POK: Beyond the Wall of Bric-a-Brac is the city’s newest and best Thai food.  0,0,10                           GRAZING - January 2022 "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(35) "atlantawiki_tiki_main_6285dce1d165e"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(200) " GRAZING - January 2022"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(134) "

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(61) "Cliff Bostock's January 2022 Grazing Recommendations"
  ["eventDate"]=>
  string(61) "Cliff Bostock's January 2022 Grazing Recommendations"
  ["noads"]=>
  string(10) "y"
}

array(105) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(36) "GRAZING: Pho Cue and banh mi, Mercer"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2021-12-20T16:13:59+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2021-12-08T22:25:19+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2021-12-02T22:20:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["parent_object_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["parent_object_type"]=>
  string(7) "tracker"
  ["field_permissions"]=>
  string(2) "[]"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(36) "GRAZING: Pho Cue and banh mi, Mercer"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator"]=>
  string(10) "jim.harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_text"]=>
  string(10) "Jim Harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_unstemmed"]=>
  string(10) "jim harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "476087"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(33) "cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock)"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(62) "Texas-Vietnam mash up, plus a bargain among rising food prices"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(62) "Texas-Vietnam mash up, plus a bargain among rising food prices"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2021-12-02T22:20:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(46) "Content:_:GRAZING: Pho Cue and banh mi, Mercer"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(8709) "First of all: Merry Christmas. Now that I’ve gotten that over with, I must make my annual plea to boycott any restaurant playing Christmas music. The Yuletide noise pollution has decreased in the last 30 years and we don’t want to give restaurateurs any encouragement to resume Christian torture of our auditory nerves. Please report offenders to me. Thank you.

Second of all: Send me lunch money. In typical American fashion, the more the “booming economy” expands, the more the rich get richer and the poor get starved by inflation. The cost of dining out, like any other act of consumption, has increased remarkably. There are many reasons why and, understand, I’m not including restaurateurs among those who have made cosmetic surgery and space travel their hobbies. They are struggling to maintain a five percent profit margin and have, after a decade of intense competition, finally been left with no alternative to passing on more of their costs to customers.

But still … Fortunately, I’ve never been attracted much to “fine dining” because, honestly, it’s rarely been within my financial reach but, more important, I just prefer so called exotic cuisines that offer an adventure rather than refinement. (For a writer, the former is about stories and the latter is about adjectives.) So, imagine my surprise when I discovered that Buford Highway is no longer predictably a bargain-basement safari. My friend Rose and I have often headed out that way merrily, with our pockets full of coins. But we were stunned recently by a meal at Mamak, one of my longtime favorites for Malaysian cuisine. My memory was that lunch specials cost about $10. However, we were handed paper menus on which those specials had been slashed out of existence. Long story short, our lunch cost us $57 including tax and tip.

The food was as delicious as ever. We shared rendang beef simmered in coconut milk with mild spices and “walnut shrimp,” which I’d never noticed on the menu before. It’s jumbo shrimp fried in a light batter, tossed in a sweetened mayonnaise sauce, and garnished with candied walnuts. I confess it was nostalgic curiosity that led me to order it. I used to eat a similar dish frequently for brunch at Hong Kong Harbour (R.I.P.). You could argue that the dish requires something sharper than beef drowned in coconut milk to offset the sweetness, but we managed. The shrimp, by the way, actually had flavor like they lived in the sea at some time. We also ordered roti canai, the flatbread served with a curried sauce for dipping. Don’t miss it. Your $5 will get you one small single piece of the bread. Just to be clear, the rendang is, at $20, the most expensive item on the menu. You can order rice and noodle dishes for significantly less. Or you could go down the road a bit and dine at Mamak Vegan Kitchen. I love the sambal okra there.


 

On to affordable, fat portions: While restaurants are reopening, sales have yet to get anywhere near their pre-pandemic level. Thus (maddeningly) abbreviated hours and an emphasis on takeout are likely to continue for a long time. A perfect formula is offered by Chef Lance Gummere, who created Mercer Street Meals after leaving Bantam & Biddy, which he co-founded in 2012. Before then, he was chef at The Shed at Glenwood, where I dined weekly for a couple of years. One night a week, he prepared a menu of sliders imaginative enough to be served at the Mad Hatter’s tea party. The rest of the week his imagination took refuge in tweaking Southern comfort food.

Lance now cooks at home where wife Gracie enjoys his full-time assistance in raising their two sons. They have two large dogs that licked the cat saliva off my hands on the front porch of their home on Mercer Street, which, quaintly enough, is a gravel road in Ormewood Park. Every Wednesday morning, they post the week’s available meals on their website, where customers purchase their choices. Usually, two different meals are available each week, but not on the same day. Thus, if you want both meals, you’ll have to make two trips to pick them up. It’s worth it. In fact, it’s probably the best bargain in the city. Meals are $25 for two and $45 for four. Yep, that’s $12.50 or less per person for a meal that includes an entrée, two sides, and dessert. And portions are large, really large.

My only meal so far has been baked salmon with wild rice, Brussels sprouts, and chocolate pavlova. I was frankly worried about it. Fish is not typically a takeout food I choose since it’s usually overcooked and completely dry by the time it’s on the table, especially if it requires reheating. Lance brings the food out his front door, packed in loosely wrapped aluminum containers and still warm enough that I had no need to reheat it. The salmon, in honey butter with a few scallions, was juicy and flaky. Wild rice was an exotic favorite of my mother — to the degree that I quit eating it around, oh, 1975. Lance outdid her by adding toasted pecans and a lot of green onions. Maybe my favorite was the roasted Brussels sprouts with bacon and cipollini onions. If I have any complaint, it was the profuse oniony flavors, especially in the rice’s raw green onions. But the dessert, pavlova, cleaned the breath in the way orgasm cleans the depraved mind. It was creamy, chewy, fruity, chocolatey, and, best of all, there was a ton of it. Check out their website for forthcoming meals, which range at this writing from bridge-club-fancy (crab mornay with a “Green Goddess crunch sandwich,” chicken noodle soup, and brownies) to after-church-piggy (chicken fried steak, garlic mashed potatoes, green beans smothered with onions, and pecan pie).


 


Last month, I wrote about the then-unopened Pho Cue in Glenwood Park. It’s up and going! The restaurant, which started as a pop-up, blends Vietnamese cuisine with Texas-style barbecue. I was mystified. Vietnamese, which is my favorite cuisine, is for the most part super-healthy, with fresh herbs and vegetables, mainly lean meats, and spikes of pickled and hot flavors. Smoky Texas barbecue on the other hand is not exactly what cardiologists recommend. I could not imagine, say, a Vietnamese sandwich (banh mi) squooshy with fatty brisket. So, does it work? Mainly. Owners Julian Wissman and Brian Holloway were at this writing still tampering with their menu, but I enjoyed most everything I sampled (and I sampled a lot).

 

My favorite by far has been the pho, the Vietnamese soup that is everywhere these days. Pho Cue’s is an extra-rich beef broth, thanks to the brisket smoked on the premises, with the usual noodles and herbs. Squirt the lime and squeeze the sriracha. As with other dishes here, you have the choice of adding sliced brisket, pulled pork, smoked chicken, or portabella mushrooms. Since the intense broth is made from brisket, the best meat choice is likewise brisket. The meat’s fat floats and shimmers on the surface of the bowl. Stir it up or sip it straight up with a spoon. The kitchen will split a bowl of the pho into two portions and you can share a banh mi with it. I liked my brisket banh mi, ordered without pho, but I honestly found the meat piled too heavy for exactly the reason I feared – that it would overwhelm the sandwich’s veggies. On my second try, I picked the savory pulled pork, which was less overwhelming, but I missed the damn brisket.

I found a solution! The menu also includes “bahn fris,” an absurdist concoction of the bahn mi’s salad contents, with your choice of meat, over fries. Again, I chose the brisket (because I lived in Houston two years and can never get enough). There was a ton of it but I was freer to pick and choose. The portion, like most here, was gigantic and I took half of it home for dinner the next day. A night in the fridge and very brief microwaving caramelized much of the fat and turned the potatoes into glazed, creamy treats my cat liked as much as me. More pickled veggies, please. I’ve also enjoyed the pulled pork dumplings and brisket eggrolls. Diners recommended we try the wings, but they’re without the Viet seasoning I craved.

The restaurant is inexpensive, especially considering the portions, with a café ambiance. One of the best side dishes is the owners’ goofy humor which you can see more of on their Instagram page and by the bathroom door. Don’t piss yourself. —CL—

!!Quick Bites


Mamak, 5150 Buford Hwy, 678-395-3192, mamak-kitchen.com

Mercer Street Meals, 404-713-6001, order online at mercerstreetmeals.com, FB & IG: @mercerstreetmeals

Pho Cue, 925 Garrett St. 404-549-7595. eatphocue.com FB & IG: @eatphocue"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(9231) "First of all: Merry Christmas. Now that I’ve gotten that over with, I must make my annual plea to boycott any restaurant playing Christmas music. The Yuletide noise pollution has decreased in the last 30 years and we don’t want to give restaurateurs any encouragement to resume Christian torture of our auditory nerves. Please report offenders to me. Thank you.

Second of all: Send me lunch money. In typical American fashion, the more the “booming economy” expands, the more the rich get richer and the poor get starved by inflation. The cost of dining out, like any other act of consumption, has increased remarkably. There are many reasons why and, understand, I’m not including restaurateurs among those who have made cosmetic surgery and space travel their hobbies. They are struggling to maintain a five percent profit margin and have, after a decade of intense competition, finally been left with no alternative to passing on more of their costs to customers.

But still … Fortunately, I’ve never been attracted much to “fine dining” because, honestly, it’s rarely been within my financial reach but, more important, I just prefer so called exotic cuisines that offer an adventure rather than refinement. (For a writer, the former is about stories and the latter is about adjectives.) So, imagine my surprise when I discovered that Buford Highway is no longer predictably a bargain-basement safari. My friend Rose and I have often headed out that way merrily, with our pockets full of coins. But we were stunned recently by a meal at Mamak, one of my longtime favorites for Malaysian cuisine. My memory was that lunch specials cost about $10. However, we were handed paper menus on which those specials had been slashed out of existence. Long story short, our lunch cost us $57 including tax and tip.

The food was as delicious as ever. We shared rendang beef simmered in coconut milk with mild spices and “walnut shrimp,” which I’d never noticed on the menu before. It’s jumbo shrimp fried in a light batter, tossed in a sweetened mayonnaise sauce, and garnished with candied walnuts. I confess it was nostalgic curiosity that led me to order it. I used to eat a similar dish frequently for brunch at Hong Kong Harbour (R.I.P.). You could argue that the dish requires something sharper than beef drowned in coconut milk to offset the sweetness, but we managed. The shrimp, by the way, actually had flavor like they lived in the sea at some time. We also ordered roti canai, the flatbread served with a curried sauce for dipping. Don’t miss it. Your $5 will get you one small single piece of the bread. Just to be clear, the rendang is, at $20, the most expensive item on the menu. You can order rice and noodle dishes for significantly less. Or you could go down the road a bit and dine at Mamak Vegan Kitchen. I love the sambal okra there.

{img fileId="45603|45604|45605" stylebox="float: left; margin-right:10px;" desc="desc" height="260px" responsive="y" button="popup"}
 

On to affordable, fat portions: While restaurants are reopening, sales have yet to get anywhere near their pre-pandemic level. Thus (maddeningly) abbreviated hours and an emphasis on takeout are likely to continue for a long time. A perfect formula is offered by Chef Lance Gummere, who created Mercer Street Meals after leaving Bantam & Biddy, which he co-founded in 2012. Before then, he was chef at The Shed at Glenwood, where I dined weekly for a couple of years. One night a week, he prepared a menu of sliders imaginative enough to be served at the Mad Hatter’s tea party. The rest of the week his imagination took refuge in tweaking Southern comfort food.

Lance now cooks at home where wife Gracie enjoys his full-time assistance in raising their two sons. They have two large dogs that licked the cat saliva off my hands on the front porch of their home on Mercer Street, which, quaintly enough, is a gravel road in Ormewood Park. Every Wednesday morning, they post the week’s available meals on their website, where customers purchase their choices. Usually, two different meals are available each week, but not on the same day. Thus, if you want both meals, you’ll have to make two trips to pick them up. It’s worth it. In fact, it’s probably the best bargain in the city. Meals are $25 for two and $45 for four. Yep, that’s $12.50 or less per person for a meal that includes an entrée, two sides, and dessert. And portions are large, really large.

My only meal so far has been baked salmon with wild rice, Brussels sprouts, and chocolate pavlova. I was frankly worried about it. Fish is not typically a takeout food I choose since it’s usually overcooked and completely dry by the time it’s on the table, especially if it requires reheating. Lance brings the food out his front door, packed in loosely wrapped aluminum containers and still warm enough that I had no need to reheat it. The salmon, in honey butter with a few scallions, was juicy and flaky. Wild rice was an exotic favorite of my mother — to the degree that I quit eating it around, oh, 1975. Lance outdid her by adding toasted pecans and a lot of green onions. Maybe my favorite was the roasted Brussels sprouts with bacon and cipollini onions. If I have any complaint, it was the profuse oniony flavors, especially in the rice’s raw green onions. But the dessert, pavlova, cleaned the breath in the way orgasm cleans the depraved mind. It was creamy, chewy, fruity, chocolatey, and, best of all, there was a ton of it. Check out their website for forthcoming meals, which range at this writing from bridge-club-fancy (crab mornay with a “Green Goddess crunch sandwich,” chicken noodle soup, and brownies) to after-church-piggy (chicken fried steak, garlic mashed potatoes, green beans smothered with onions, and pecan pie).

{img fileId="45606|45607|45608" stylebox="float: left; margin-right:10px;" desc="desc" height="300px" responsive="y" button="popup"}
 

{DIV()}{img fileId="45609" stylebox="float: right; margin-left:25px;" desc="desc" width="500px" responsive="y"}{DIV}
Last month, I wrote about the then-unopened Pho Cue in Glenwood Park. It’s up and going! The restaurant, which started as a pop-up, blends Vietnamese cuisine with Texas-style barbecue. I was mystified. Vietnamese, which is my favorite cuisine, is for the most part super-healthy, with fresh herbs and vegetables, mainly lean meats, and spikes of pickled and hot flavors. Smoky Texas barbecue on the other hand is not exactly what cardiologists recommend. I could not imagine, say, a Vietnamese sandwich (banh mi) squooshy with fatty brisket. So, does it work? Mainly. Owners Julian Wissman and Brian Holloway were at this writing still tampering with their menu, but I enjoyed most everything I sampled (and I sampled a lot).

 

My favorite by far has been the pho, the Vietnamese soup that is everywhere these days. Pho Cue’s is an extra-rich beef broth, thanks to the brisket smoked on the premises, with the usual noodles and herbs. Squirt the lime and squeeze the sriracha. As with other dishes here, you have the choice of adding sliced brisket, pulled pork, smoked chicken, or portabella mushrooms. Since the intense broth is made from brisket, the best meat choice is likewise brisket. The meat’s fat floats and shimmers on the surface of the bowl. Stir it up or sip it straight up with a spoon. The kitchen will split a bowl of the pho into two portions and you can share a banh mi with it. I liked my brisket banh mi, ordered without pho, but I honestly found the meat piled too heavy for exactly the reason I feared – that it would overwhelm the sandwich’s veggies. On my second try, I picked the savory pulled pork, which was less overwhelming, but I missed the damn brisket.

I found a solution! The menu also includes “bahn fris,” an absurdist concoction of the bahn mi’s salad contents, with your choice of meat, over fries. Again, I chose the brisket (because I lived in Houston two years and can never get enough). There was a ton of it but I was freer to pick and choose. The portion, like most here, was gigantic and I took half of it home for dinner the next day. A night in the fridge and very brief microwaving caramelized much of the fat and turned the potatoes into glazed, creamy treats my cat liked as much as me. More pickled veggies, please. I’ve also enjoyed the pulled pork dumplings and brisket eggrolls. Diners recommended we try the wings, but they’re without the Viet seasoning I craved.

The restaurant is inexpensive, especially considering the portions, with a café ambiance. One of the best side dishes is the owners’ goofy humor which you can see more of on their Instagram page and by the bathroom door. Don’t piss yourself. __—CL—__

!!Quick Bites
{img fileId="45611|45610" stylebox="float: left; margin-right:10px;" desc="desc" height="350px" responsive="y" button="popup"}

''Mamak, 5150 Buford Hwy, 678-395-3192, mamak-kitchen.com''

''Mercer Street Meals, 404-713-6001, order online at mercerstreetmeals.com, FB & IG: @mercerstreetmeals''

''Pho Cue, 925 Garrett St. 404-549-7595. eatphocue.com FB & IG: @eatphocue''"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2021-12-08T22:25:19+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2021-12-20T16:13:59+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_freshness_days"]=>
  int(149)
  ["tracker_field_photos"]=>
  string(5) "45602"
  ["tracker_field_photos_names"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(24) "#1 LUNCH FOR TWO Reduced"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filenames"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "#1_LUNCH_FOR_TWO_reduced.jpeg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filetypes"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "image/jpeg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_text"]=>
  string(24) "#1 LUNCH FOR TWO Reduced"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoCredit"]=>
  string(13) "CLIFF BOSTOCK"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoTitle"]=>
  string(206) "LUNCH FOR TWO: Beef rendang, rice, and shrimp in a sweetened mayo sauce with walnuts at Mamak on Buford Highway. With one piece of roti canai and a tip, that'll be $57. Please bring back the lunch specials!"
  ["tracker_field_breadcrumb"]=>
  string(1) "0"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "245"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "245"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_names"]=>
  string(14) "Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_paths"]=>
  string(23) "Content::Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(4) "1174"
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene_text"]=>
  string(4) "1174"
  ["tracker_field_scene_names"]=>
  string(6) "Foodie"
  ["tracker_field_scene_paths"]=>
  string(14) "Scenes::Foodie"
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentLocation"]=>
  string(6) "0,0,10"
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentMiscCategories"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "749"
    [1]=>
    string(3) "620"
  }
  ["tracker_field_section_text"]=>
  string(7) "749 620"
  ["tracker_field_section_names"]=>
  string(20) "Food Portal, Grazing"
  ["tracker_field_section_paths"]=>
  string(77) "Section::Portals::Food Portal, Section::Print Features::Food Feature::Grazing"
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "45602"
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(5) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
    [1]=>
    int(620)
    [2]=>
    int(749)
    [3]=>
    int(1174)
    [4]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(13) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(245)
    [2]=>
    int(1182)
    [3]=>
    int(1477)
    [4]=>
    int(621)
    [5]=>
    int(620)
    [6]=>
    int(743)
    [7]=>
    int(749)
    [8]=>
    int(564)
    [9]=>
    int(1174)
    [10]=>
    int(28)
    [11]=>
    int(988)
    [12]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(988)
    [1]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(1174)
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(1174)
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(5) {
    [0]=>
    int(1477)
    [1]=>
    int(621)
    [2]=>
    int(620)
    [3]=>
    int(743)
    [4]=>
    int(749)
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["user_groups"]=>
  array(7) {
    [0]=>
    string(22) "Product Representative"
    [1]=>
    string(12) "Wiki Editors"
    [2]=>
    string(17) "CL Correspondents"
    [3]=>
    string(20) "Event Representative"
    [4]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [5]=>
    string(10) "CL Editors"
    [6]=>
    string(27) "Organization Representative"
  }
  ["user_followers"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["like_list"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(27) "tiki.file.attach:file:45602"
    [1]=>
    string(84) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:wiki page:Content:_:GRAZING: Pho Cue and banh mi, Mercer"
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(16) "tiki.file.attach"
    [1]=>
    string(27) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert"
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(18) "tiki.file.attach:1"
    [1]=>
    string(29) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:1"
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "G"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(7) "GRAZING"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item500142"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "500142"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(9343) " #1 LUNCH FOR TWO Reduced  2021-12-08T22:22:47+00:00 #1_LUNCH_FOR_TWO_reduced.jpeg      Texas-Vietnam mash up, plus a bargain among rising food prices #1 LUNCH FOR TWO Reduced   2021-12-02T22:20:00+00:00  GRAZING: Pho Cue and banh mi, Mercer jim.harris Jim Harris Cliff Bostock cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock) 2021-12-02T22:20:00+00:00 First of all: Merry Christmas. Now that I’ve gotten that over with, I must make my annual plea to boycott any restaurant playing Christmas music. The Yuletide noise pollution has decreased in the last 30 years and we don’t want to give restaurateurs any encouragement to resume Christian torture of our auditory nerves. Please report offenders to me. Thank you.

Second of all: Send me lunch money. In typical American fashion, the more the “booming economy” expands, the more the rich get richer and the poor get starved by inflation. The cost of dining out, like any other act of consumption, has increased remarkably. There are many reasons why and, understand, I’m not including restaurateurs among those who have made cosmetic surgery and space travel their hobbies. They are struggling to maintain a five percent profit margin and have, after a decade of intense competition, finally been left with no alternative to passing on more of their costs to customers.

But still … Fortunately, I’ve never been attracted much to “fine dining” because, honestly, it’s rarely been within my financial reach but, more important, I just prefer so called exotic cuisines that offer an adventure rather than refinement. (For a writer, the former is about stories and the latter is about adjectives.) So, imagine my surprise when I discovered that Buford Highway is no longer predictably a bargain-basement safari. My friend Rose and I have often headed out that way merrily, with our pockets full of coins. But we were stunned recently by a meal at Mamak, one of my longtime favorites for Malaysian cuisine. My memory was that lunch specials cost about $10. However, we were handed paper menus on which those specials had been slashed out of existence. Long story short, our lunch cost us $57 including tax and tip.

The food was as delicious as ever. We shared rendang beef simmered in coconut milk with mild spices and “walnut shrimp,” which I’d never noticed on the menu before. It’s jumbo shrimp fried in a light batter, tossed in a sweetened mayonnaise sauce, and garnished with candied walnuts. I confess it was nostalgic curiosity that led me to order it. I used to eat a similar dish frequently for brunch at Hong Kong Harbour (R.I.P.). You could argue that the dish requires something sharper than beef drowned in coconut milk to offset the sweetness, but we managed. The shrimp, by the way, actually had flavor like they lived in the sea at some time. We also ordered roti canai, the flatbread served with a curried sauce for dipping. Don’t miss it. Your $5 will get you one small single piece of the bread. Just to be clear, the rendang is, at $20, the most expensive item on the menu. You can order rice and noodle dishes for significantly less. Or you could go down the road a bit and dine at Mamak Vegan Kitchen. I love the sambal okra there.


 

On to affordable, fat portions: While restaurants are reopening, sales have yet to get anywhere near their pre-pandemic level. Thus (maddeningly) abbreviated hours and an emphasis on takeout are likely to continue for a long time. A perfect formula is offered by Chef Lance Gummere, who created Mercer Street Meals after leaving Bantam & Biddy, which he co-founded in 2012. Before then, he was chef at The Shed at Glenwood, where I dined weekly for a couple of years. One night a week, he prepared a menu of sliders imaginative enough to be served at the Mad Hatter’s tea party. The rest of the week his imagination took refuge in tweaking Southern comfort food.

Lance now cooks at home where wife Gracie enjoys his full-time assistance in raising their two sons. They have two large dogs that licked the cat saliva off my hands on the front porch of their home on Mercer Street, which, quaintly enough, is a gravel road in Ormewood Park. Every Wednesday morning, they post the week’s available meals on their website, where customers purchase their choices. Usually, two different meals are available each week, but not on the same day. Thus, if you want both meals, you’ll have to make two trips to pick them up. It’s worth it. In fact, it’s probably the best bargain in the city. Meals are $25 for two and $45 for four. Yep, that’s $12.50 or less per person for a meal that includes an entrée, two sides, and dessert. And portions are large, really large.

My only meal so far has been baked salmon with wild rice, Brussels sprouts, and chocolate pavlova. I was frankly worried about it. Fish is not typically a takeout food I choose since it’s usually overcooked and completely dry by the time it’s on the table, especially if it requires reheating. Lance brings the food out his front door, packed in loosely wrapped aluminum containers and still warm enough that I had no need to reheat it. The salmon, in honey butter with a few scallions, was juicy and flaky. Wild rice was an exotic favorite of my mother — to the degree that I quit eating it around, oh, 1975. Lance outdid her by adding toasted pecans and a lot of green onions. Maybe my favorite was the roasted Brussels sprouts with bacon and cipollini onions. If I have any complaint, it was the profuse oniony flavors, especially in the rice’s raw green onions. But the dessert, pavlova, cleaned the breath in the way orgasm cleans the depraved mind. It was creamy, chewy, fruity, chocolatey, and, best of all, there was a ton of it. Check out their website for forthcoming meals, which range at this writing from bridge-club-fancy (crab mornay with a “Green Goddess crunch sandwich,” chicken noodle soup, and brownies) to after-church-piggy (chicken fried steak, garlic mashed potatoes, green beans smothered with onions, and pecan pie).


 


Last month, I wrote about the then-unopened Pho Cue in Glenwood Park. It’s up and going! The restaurant, which started as a pop-up, blends Vietnamese cuisine with Texas-style barbecue. I was mystified. Vietnamese, which is my favorite cuisine, is for the most part super-healthy, with fresh herbs and vegetables, mainly lean meats, and spikes of pickled and hot flavors. Smoky Texas barbecue on the other hand is not exactly what cardiologists recommend. I could not imagine, say, a Vietnamese sandwich (banh mi) squooshy with fatty brisket. So, does it work? Mainly. Owners Julian Wissman and Brian Holloway were at this writing still tampering with their menu, but I enjoyed most everything I sampled (and I sampled a lot).

 

My favorite by far has been the pho, the Vietnamese soup that is everywhere these days. Pho Cue’s is an extra-rich beef broth, thanks to the brisket smoked on the premises, with the usual noodles and herbs. Squirt the lime and squeeze the sriracha. As with other dishes here, you have the choice of adding sliced brisket, pulled pork, smoked chicken, or portabella mushrooms. Since the intense broth is made from brisket, the best meat choice is likewise brisket. The meat’s fat floats and shimmers on the surface of the bowl. Stir it up or sip it straight up with a spoon. The kitchen will split a bowl of the pho into two portions and you can share a banh mi with it. I liked my brisket banh mi, ordered without pho, but I honestly found the meat piled too heavy for exactly the reason I feared – that it would overwhelm the sandwich’s veggies. On my second try, I picked the savory pulled pork, which was less overwhelming, but I missed the damn brisket.

I found a solution! The menu also includes “bahn fris,” an absurdist concoction of the bahn mi’s salad contents, with your choice of meat, over fries. Again, I chose the brisket (because I lived in Houston two years and can never get enough). There was a ton of it but I was freer to pick and choose. The portion, like most here, was gigantic and I took half of it home for dinner the next day. A night in the fridge and very brief microwaving caramelized much of the fat and turned the potatoes into glazed, creamy treats my cat liked as much as me. More pickled veggies, please. I’ve also enjoyed the pulled pork dumplings and brisket eggrolls. Diners recommended we try the wings, but they’re without the Viet seasoning I craved.

The restaurant is inexpensive, especially considering the portions, with a café ambiance. One of the best side dishes is the owners’ goofy humor which you can see more of on their Instagram page and by the bathroom door. Don’t piss yourself. —CL—

!!Quick Bites


Mamak, 5150 Buford Hwy, 678-395-3192, mamak-kitchen.com

Mercer Street Meals, 404-713-6001, order online at mercerstreetmeals.com, FB & IG: @mercerstreetmeals

Pho Cue, 925 Garrett St. 404-549-7595. eatphocue.com FB & IG: @eatphocue    CLIFF BOSTOCK LUNCH FOR TWO: Beef rendang, rice, and shrimp in a sweetened mayo sauce with walnuts at Mamak on Buford Highway. With one piece of roti canai and a tip, that'll be $57. Please bring back the lunch specials!  0,0,10                           GRAZING: Pho Cue and banh mi, Mercer "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(35) "atlantawiki_tiki_main_6285dce1d165e"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(214) " GRAZING: Pho Cue and banh mi, Mercer"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(142) "

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(71) "Texas-Vietnam mash up, plus a bargain among rising food prices"
  ["eventDate"]=>
  string(71) "Texas-Vietnam mash up, plus a bargain among rising food prices"
  ["noads"]=>
  string(10) "y"
}

array(109) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(38) "GRAZING: Thai, (real) Mexican, and DIY"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2021-07-09T17:58:37+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2021-06-30T18:16:36+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "ben.eason"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2021-07-01T18:12:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["parent_object_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["parent_object_type"]=>
  string(7) "tracker"
  ["field_permissions"]=>
  string(2) "[]"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(38) "GRAZING: Thai, (real) Mexican, and DIY"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator"]=>
  string(10) "jim.harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_text"]=>
  string(10) "Jim Harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_unstemmed"]=>
  string(10) "jim harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "476087"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(33) "cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock)"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(83) "From Buford Highway to Chattahoochee Avenue — that’s a lot of territory, indeed"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(83) "From Buford Highway to Chattahoochee Avenue — that’s a lot of territory, indeed"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2021-07-01T18:12:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_socialtext"]=>
  string(66) "Cliff Bostock explores Atlanta's new Thai restaurant Tum Pok Pok. "
  ["tracker_field_socialtext_raw"]=>
  string(66) "Cliff Bostock explores Atlanta's new Thai restaurant Tum Pok Pok. "
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(48) "Content:_:GRAZING: Thai, (real) Mexican, and DIY"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(10701) "I’ve got great news, hopeful news, and WTF news this month. Let’s start with the great, which is a new Thai restaurant, Tum Pok Pok, whose name describes a sound you know well. It’s what you hear when your Thai mother is in the kitchen pounding chilies in a mortar to make papaya salad. With six versions of the salad — “somtum” — and a menu of other regional spicy dishes, Tum Pok Pok is an absolute must-visit for anyone who loves spicy Thai food.

The restaurant, which opened in April, belongs to the same people who operate Bangkok Thyme in Sandy Springs. The particular region emphasized here is the northeastern Isan, which borders Laos and imports some of the more savory flavors and hotter spices preferred there. The shredded papaya salad, controversially thought by some to originate in Laos, is popular throughout Thailand and Vietnam, and every vendor on every street corner apparently has their own version of their region’s version.

When my friend Rose and I visited the restaurant for lunch on a Friday, we of course went directly for the somtum, which we’ve both devoured at the Vietnamese restaurant, Com, many times. Because we had other dishes in mind, we decided to get the basic version made with “crushed roasted peanuts” combined with the shredded papaya. It only took one taste to distinguish this from the Vietnamese version we’ve eaten — a comparatively volcanic eruption of stinging heat. Fortunately, my tongue and lips went just numb enough to enjoy the spiciness, the faint sourness, and crunchy peanuts and papaya. I should re-emphasize that this intense spiciness is a great part of what sets the cuisine of Isan aside. But you’re gonna love it. And you can order other somtums with less heat combined with ingredients like salted crab.


We also ordered a large plate of Isan’s version of larb, here made with minced chicken, mysterious herbs, and hot chilies tempered by a strong dose of lime. It’s juicy and perfect scooped on the plate’s peppery cabbage leaves. For an “entrée” we went to the generally more familiar Thai street-food menu like green and masaman curries. But we selected the unfamiliar pad-kra-pow moo-grop. This dish could have been made for me. It’s stir-fried crispy pork. Think my favorite carnitas or cracklins in a basil sauce, scattered with scallions and red peppers. It’s hot but not really. You eat it with jasmine rice and you wonder where the hell this dish has been all your Thai-eating life.

Besides the food, I love the look of this place. The dining room and the bar are festooned with kitsch, obviously for the sake of humor — not to promote stereotyping. I also like the location. It’s next to the City Farmers Market, so that you can leave Tum Pok Pok and rummage through the gigantic mainly Asian market for herbal remedies, huge jars of honey at a fraction of the usual cost, super-fresh produce, and rice — rice in quantities you’ve not seen since you left China.

WISHING AND HOPING

Just in time for the End of COVID, Chattahoochee Food Works has opened inside The Works, an 80-acre mixed-use development in northwest Atlanta. It is a project of Bizarre Foods host Andrew Zimmern and Robert Montwaid of Gansevoort Market in New York City. I paid a visit on a recent Sunday — along with seemingly half of Atlanta’s population, drawn by considerable publicity.


There are 31 stalls in the new food hall. Not all are open yet, but there’s plenty of temptation. My plan was to sample a few of the available flavors, but especially at Taqueria La Luz. It is operated by Luis Martinez-Obregon and Lucero Martinez-Obregon, the twins who opened Zocalo in Midtown in 1995, bringing intown Atlanta its first taste of genuine Mexican cooking instead of the otherwise pervasive Tex-Mex. Incidentally, Zocalo gained some absurd notoriety in April because of two videos showing large crowds of mainly unmasked people partying in front of the taqueria, even though it was open only for take-out. I actually wore a mask coming through the door of the new development, but literally did not see more than a few other masked people beside employees inside the stalls. Under such pressure to conform to contemporary fashion and being fully vaccinated, I removed my mask and breathed in the air. Did you know food has a great odor?

One of the shocks of returning to restaurant eating is the increase in prices, and I got a double whammy during my visit. I was excited AF to see that La Luz is featuring al pastor properly spit-roasted on a revolving trompo. For a brief period, Lucero and Luis operated a taqueria in Grant Park, where I live, and served the pork flavored with pineapple juice that is drizzled on the meat during its roasting. I ate there, oh, maybe twice a week. I couldn’t wait to try it at Luz loaded into a quesadilla, whose $10 price shocked me until I saw its huge size. I hate saying this, but it was not good. The pork was mysteriously dried out and tasted somewhat like bacon. A ton of salsa didn’t help moisturize the texture or improve the taste. I should note that the al pastor wasn’t actually on the smeared chalkboard menu. I just happened to notice the kitchen’s loaded trompo from the counter. Tacos are $3.25, which is usual, and gorditas are $7. Fillings include steak, mushrooms, fish, and chicken.

The unexpectedly large portion, only half of which I ate, left me full, but I was craving ice cream from the Morelli’s stall. I was disappointed not to find the salted caramel or my favorite ginger-lavender. I know it’s heresy, but I’m not a fan of chocolate ice cream and that seemed to be the predominant flavor. So, I ordered a sundae. I only remember eating two of these in my life. One was a bribe my mother arranged at a drugstore counter. The other was delivered to my freshman dorm room along with a pipe full of hashish. I really liked the hash better than the maraschino cherry. At Morelli’s I ordered the sundae made with a blondie — the brown-sugar brownie that typically has some chocolate chips but not an overwhelming number. I burrowed through most of the vanilla ice cream, the whipped cream, and the caramel sauce, before hitting the warmed blondie. Sorry, but it was way too chocolatey and gooey for my taste, but that’s just my own peculiar palate. It cost $8.50 — over $10 with a tip.

Other open stalls at Food Works feature Thai cuisine, Vietnamese banh mi, pizza, South African fare, pastries, soul food, sushi, ramen, and bubble teas, with more to open throughout the summer. There’s also booze, lots of booze. Don’t make the stupid mistakes I made. First, there is a huge parking lot at the complex and every space was full. Fortunately, a car came within inches of hitting me as it pulled out, so I scored a spot. I love a good near-accident. When I left, I noticed there is multilevel parking available at the end of the lot. Second, the food hall is very well designed, meaning I could find no place to actually eat my quesadilla. I ate it at the counter of a vacant stall. Later, I found a very large dining area adjacent to the food court and a huge hall lined with retail operations, full of comfy furniture where I ate the sundae.

Honestly, I love the place and expect the food to improve when the huge crowds dissipate. That’s another plus here: The employees are super-nice despite their imminent metamorphosis into zombies at the hands of the food-grubbing rabble.

WTF? GARLIC, SALT, AND TASTELESS CHEESE

It finally happened. I burned out on Trader Joe’s frozen entrees. Oh, I’ll be back for the Indian dinners, but I needed a break. So I decided to do something unappetizing. With a 50-percent-off coupon, I ordered five meals for two from Home Chef. That cost me only $50. At some point after I ordered the meals — it was impulsive, okay? — I realized this was a Kroger operation. I had seen their green-and-white boxed meals in the store. I worried.

They arrived Monday morning chilled in a large box. Each meal’s components, like veggies and spices, were packed with a tray inside a plastic bag. Meats were separately packed. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to prep and cook the meals. There were two serious problems. One meal was missing. I called and they immediately refunded the cost without the 50-percent discount, so that was nice. Then I later found that they had failed to include a major ingredient, black beans, in another meal. Fortunately, I had a can of them, so I survived.


The food? Oy. You get your choice of meats or vegan alternatives like the Impossible Burger. I went for a chicken breast with every meal except one. There were two problems that drove me nuts. Salt and garlic — added or hidden within prepared ingredients — overwhelmed everything. That’s a serious complaint from someone who has eaten salty entrees from Trader Joe’s for a year. The other annoyance was the use of tasteless cheese in every dish. It was yellow cheddar in three and parmesan in the fourth. Onion flavors were prevalent too.

My favorite meal was the simplest — a “bacon and guacamole chicken sandwich.” Okay, the guac was the usual over-seasoned fast-food goop. The bacon was crumbs you microwave and then mix with mayo squeezed out of a little envelope. The slaw dressing was ranch. What I liked really was the crunchy textures, including the cabbage, the browned chicken breast, and the grilled bread.

My least favorite was the meatballs I shaped out of weirdly cotton-candy pink ground beef combined with panko. This was the meal missing the black beans I had to supply and mix with corn kernels, zucchini slices, and, yes, shredded cheese and garlic salt. A lame salsa verde was provided to coat the meatballs. Another dish included two chicken breasts baked with “parmesan thyme butter,” plus green beans sautéed with a sliced, gigantic shallot seasoned with — oh yeah! — garlic salt and topped with the crispy onions your mama used to dump on canned green beans submerged in canned cream of mushroom soup. The final dish was chicken breasts topped with more (caramelized) onions and obnoxious “black garlic gravy,” accompanied by green peas and cheesy mashed potatoes.

I will not be doing this again, especially for double the price I paid. There are alternatives, one of which I’ve scheduled to try. —CL—

Tum Pok Pok, 5000 Buford Highway, 404-990-4688, tumpokpok.com, @tum_pok_pok

Chattahoochee Food Works, 1235 Chattahoochee Ave., Ste. 130, chattahoocheefoodworks.com, @chattahoocheefoodworks

Home Chef, Chicago, 872-225-2433, homechef.com, @homechef"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(11377) "I’ve got great news, hopeful news, and WTF news this month. Let’s start with the great, which is a new Thai restaurant, Tum Pok Pok, whose name describes a sound you know well. It’s what you hear when your Thai mother is in the kitchen pounding chilies in a mortar to make papaya salad. With six versions of the salad — “somtum” — and a menu of other regional spicy dishes, Tum Pok Pok is an absolute must-visit for anyone who loves spicy Thai food.

The restaurant, which opened in April, belongs to the same people who operate Bangkok Thyme in Sandy Springs. The particular region emphasized here is the northeastern Isan, which borders Laos and imports some of the more savory flavors and hotter spices preferred there. The shredded papaya salad, controversially thought by some to originate in Laos, is popular throughout Thailand and Vietnam, and every vendor on every street corner apparently has their own version of their region’s version.

When my friend Rose and I visited the restaurant for lunch on a Friday, we of course went directly for the somtum, which we’ve both devoured at the Vietnamese restaurant, Com, many times. Because we had other dishes in mind, we decided to get the basic version made with “crushed roasted peanuts” combined with the shredded papaya. It only took one taste to distinguish this from the Vietnamese version we’ve eaten — a comparatively volcanic eruption of stinging heat. Fortunately, my tongue and lips went just numb enough to enjoy the spiciness, the faint sourness, and crunchy peanuts and papaya. I should re-emphasize that this intense spiciness is a great part of what sets the cuisine of Isan aside. But you’re gonna love it. And you can order other somtums with less heat combined with ingredients like salted crab.

{DIV()}{BOX( bg="#66bfff" width="100%" style="padding-left: 25px")}
{img fileId="39330|39331|39332" stylebox="float: left; margin-right:25px;" desc="desc" width="220px" responsive="y" button="popup"}
{BOX}{DIV}
We also ordered a large plate of Isan’s version of larb, here made with minced chicken, mysterious herbs, and hot chilies tempered by a strong dose of lime. It’s juicy and perfect scooped on the plate’s peppery cabbage leaves. For an “entrée” we went to the generally more familiar Thai street-food menu like green and masaman curries. But we selected the unfamiliar pad-kra-pow moo-grop. This dish could have been made for me. It’s stir-fried crispy pork. Think my favorite carnitas or cracklins in a basil sauce, scattered with scallions and red peppers. It’s hot but not really. You eat it with jasmine rice and you wonder where the hell this dish has been all your Thai-eating life.

Besides the food, I love the look of this place. The dining room and the bar are festooned with kitsch, obviously for the sake of humor — not to promote stereotyping. I also like the location. It’s next to the City Farmers Market, so that you can leave Tum Pok Pok and rummage through the gigantic mainly Asian market for herbal remedies, huge jars of honey at a fraction of the usual cost, super-fresh produce, and rice — rice in quantities you’ve not seen since you left China.

__WISHING AND HOPING__

Just in time for the End of COVID, Chattahoochee Food Works has opened inside The Works, an 80-acre mixed-use development in northwest Atlanta. It is a project of ''Bizarre Foods'' host Andrew Zimmern and Robert Montwaid of Gansevoort Market in New York City. I paid a visit on a recent Sunday — along with seemingly half of Atlanta’s population, drawn by considerable publicity.

{DIV()}{BOX( bg="#66bfff" width="100%" style="padding-left: 25px")}
{img fileId="39333|39334|39335" stylebox="float: left; margin-right:25px;" desc="desc" width="220px" responsive="y" button="popup"}
{BOX}{DIV}
There are 31 stalls in the new food hall. Not all are open yet, but there’s plenty of temptation. My plan was to sample a few of the available flavors, but especially at Taqueria La Luz. It is operated by Luis Martinez-Obregon and Lucero Martinez-Obregon, the twins who opened Zocalo in Midtown in 1995, bringing intown Atlanta its first taste of genuine Mexican cooking instead of the otherwise pervasive Tex-Mex. Incidentally, Zocalo gained some absurd notoriety in April because of two videos showing large crowds of mainly unmasked people partying in front of the taqueria, even though it was open only for take-out. I actually wore a mask coming through the door of the new development, but literally did not see more than a few other masked people beside employees inside the stalls. Under such pressure to conform to contemporary fashion and being fully vaccinated, I removed my mask and breathed in the air. Did you know food has a great odor?

One of the shocks of returning to restaurant eating is the increase in prices, and I got a double whammy during my visit. I was excited AF to see that La Luz is featuring al pastor properly spit-roasted on a revolving ''trompo''. For a brief period, Lucero and Luis operated a taqueria in Grant Park, where I live, and served the pork flavored with pineapple juice that is drizzled on the meat during its roasting. I ate there, oh, maybe twice a week. I couldn’t wait to try it at Luz loaded into a quesadilla, whose $10 price shocked me until I saw its huge size. I hate saying this, but it was not good. The pork was mysteriously dried out and tasted somewhat like bacon. A ton of salsa didn’t help moisturize the texture or improve the taste. I should note that the al pastor wasn’t actually on the smeared chalkboard menu. I just happened to notice the kitchen’s loaded ''trompo'' from the counter. Tacos are $3.25, which is usual, and gorditas are $7. Fillings include steak, mushrooms, fish, and chicken.

The unexpectedly large portion, only half of which I ate, left me full, but I was craving ice cream from the Morelli’s stall. I was disappointed not to find the salted caramel or my favorite ginger-lavender. I know it’s heresy, but I’m not a fan of chocolate ice cream and that seemed to be the predominant flavor. So, I ordered a sundae. I only remember eating two of these in my life. One was a bribe my mother arranged at a drugstore counter. The other was delivered to my freshman dorm room along with a pipe full of hashish. I really liked the hash better than the maraschino cherry. At Morelli’s I ordered the sundae made with a blondie — the brown-sugar brownie that typically has some chocolate chips but not an overwhelming number. I burrowed through most of the vanilla ice cream, the whipped cream, and the caramel sauce, before hitting the warmed blondie. Sorry, but it was way too chocolatey and gooey for my taste, but that’s just my own peculiar palate. It cost $8.50 — over $10 with a tip.

Other open stalls at Food Works feature Thai cuisine, Vietnamese banh mi, pizza, South African fare, pastries, soul food, sushi, ramen, and bubble teas, with more to open throughout the summer. There’s also booze, lots of booze. Don’t make the stupid mistakes I made. First, there is a huge parking lot at the complex and every space was full. Fortunately, a car came within inches of hitting me as it pulled out, so I scored a spot. I love a good near-accident. When I left, I noticed there is ''multilevel parking'' available at the end of the lot. Second, the food hall is very well designed, meaning I could find no place to actually eat my quesadilla. I ate it at the counter of a vacant stall. Later, I found a very large dining area adjacent to the food court and a huge hall lined with retail operations, full of comfy furniture where I ate the sundae.

Honestly, I love the place and expect the food to improve when the huge crowds dissipate. That’s another plus here: The employees are super-nice despite their imminent metamorphosis into zombies at the hands of the food-grubbing rabble.

__WTF? GARLIC, SALT, AND TASTELESS CHEESE__

It finally happened. I burned out on Trader Joe’s frozen entrees. Oh, I’ll be back for the Indian dinners, but I needed a break. So I decided to do something unappetizing. With a 50-percent-off coupon, I ordered five meals for two from Home Chef. That cost me only $50. At some point after I ordered the meals — it was impulsive, okay? — I realized this was a Kroger operation. I had seen their green-and-white boxed meals in the store. I worried.

They arrived Monday morning chilled in a large box. Each meal’s components, like veggies and spices, were packed with a tray inside a plastic bag. Meats were separately packed. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to prep and cook the meals. There were two serious problems. One meal was missing. I called and they immediately refunded the cost without the 50-percent discount, so that was nice. Then I later found that they had failed to include a major ingredient, black beans, in another meal. Fortunately, I had a can of them, so I survived.

{DIV()}{BOX( bg="#66bfff" width="100%" style="padding-left: 25px")}
{img fileId="39336|39337|39338" stylebox="float: left; margin-right:25px;" desc="desc" width="220px" responsive="y" button="popup"}
{BOX}{DIV}
The food? Oy. You get your choice of meats or vegan alternatives like the Impossible Burger. I went for a chicken breast with every meal except one. There were two problems that drove me nuts. Salt and garlic — added or hidden within prepared ingredients — overwhelmed everything. That’s a serious complaint from someone who has eaten salty entrees from Trader Joe’s for a year. The other annoyance was the use of tasteless cheese in every dish. It was yellow cheddar in three and parmesan in the fourth. Onion flavors were prevalent too.

My favorite meal was the simplest — a “bacon and guacamole chicken sandwich.” Okay, the guac was the usual over-seasoned fast-food goop. The bacon was crumbs you microwave and then mix with mayo squeezed out of a little envelope. The slaw dressing was ranch. What I liked really was the crunchy textures, including the cabbage, the browned chicken breast, and the grilled bread.

My least favorite was the meatballs I shaped out of weirdly cotton-candy pink ground beef combined with panko. This was the meal missing the black beans I had to supply and mix with corn kernels, zucchini slices, and, yes, shredded cheese and garlic salt. A lame salsa verde was provided to coat the meatballs. Another dish included two chicken breasts baked with “parmesan thyme butter,” plus green beans sautéed with a sliced, gigantic shallot seasoned with — oh yeah! — garlic salt and topped with the crispy onions your mama used to dump on canned green beans submerged in canned cream of mushroom soup. The final dish was chicken breasts topped with more (caramelized) onions and obnoxious “black garlic gravy,” accompanied by green peas and cheesy mashed potatoes.

I will not be doing this again, especially for double the price I paid. There are alternatives, one of which I’ve scheduled to try. __—CL—__

''Tum Pok Pok, 5000 Buford Highway, 404-990-4688, tumpokpok.com, @tum_pok_pok''

''Chattahoochee Food Works, 1235 Chattahoochee Ave., Ste. 130, chattahoocheefoodworks.com, @chattahoocheefoodworks''

''Home Chef, Chicago, 872-225-2433, homechef.com, @homechef''"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2021-06-30T18:16:36+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2021-06-30T18:45:08+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_freshness_days"]=>
  int(322)
  ["tracker_field_photos"]=>
  string(5) "39341"
  ["tracker_field_photos_names"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(15) "#2 B98A Reduced"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filenames"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(19) "#2_B98A_reduced.jpg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filetypes"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "image/jpeg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_text"]=>
  string(15) "#2 B98A Reduced"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoCredit"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoTitle"]=>
  string(271) "THE MAIN ATTRACTION: This is one of Tum Pok Pok's classic shredded papaya salads from the Isan region of Thailand. There are five others and this is the basic one made with crushed roasted peanuts. At a later visit, I sampled a more complex version made with salted crab."
  ["tracker_field_breadcrumb"]=>
  string(1) "0"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "245"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "245"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_names"]=>
  string(14) "Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_paths"]=>
  string(23) "Content::Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentLocation"]=>
  string(6) "0,0,10"
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations"]=>
  string(37) "trackeritem:491763
trackeritem:491760"
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(18) "trackeritem:491763"
    [1]=>
    string(18) "trackeritem:491760"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_plain"]=>
  string(93) "Tum Pok Pok (itemId:491760 trackerid:1), Chattahoochee Food Works (itemId:491763 trackerid:1)"
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_text"]=>
  string(96) "Tum Pok Pok (itemId:491760 trackerid:1) and Chattahoochee Food Works (itemId:491763 trackerid:1)"
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentMiscCategories"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentFreeTags"]=>
  string(7) "grazing"
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "749"
    [1]=>
    string(3) "621"
    [2]=>
    string(3) "620"
  }
  ["tracker_field_section_text"]=>
  string(11) "749 621 620"
  ["tracker_field_section_names"]=>
  string(34) "Food Portal, Food Feature, Grazing"
  ["tracker_field_section_paths"]=>
  string(116) "Section::Portals::Food Portal, Section::Print Features::Food Feature, Section::Print Features::Food Feature::Grazing"
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "39341"
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(5) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
    [1]=>
    int(620)
    [2]=>
    int(621)
    [3]=>
    int(749)
    [4]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(11) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(245)
    [2]=>
    int(1182)
    [3]=>
    int(1477)
    [4]=>
    int(621)
    [5]=>
    int(620)
    [6]=>
    int(743)
    [7]=>
    int(749)
    [8]=>
    int(28)
    [9]=>
    int(988)
    [10]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(988)
    [1]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(5) {
    [0]=>
    int(1477)
    [1]=>
    int(621)
    [2]=>
    int(620)
    [3]=>
    int(743)
    [4]=>
    int(749)
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "471"
  }
  ["freetags_text"]=>
  string(7) "grazing"
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["user_groups"]=>
  array(9) {
    [0]=>
    string(22) "Product Representative"
    [1]=>
    string(12) "Wiki Editors"
    [2]=>
    string(17) "CL Correspondents"
    [3]=>
    string(20) "Event Representative"
    [4]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [5]=>
    string(10) "CL Editors"
    [6]=>
    string(27) "Organization Representative"
    [7]=>
    string(18) "Account Executives"
    [8]=>
    string(7) "Artists"
  }
  ["user_followers"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "jonny"
    [1]=>
    string(14) "thevinylwarhol"
  }
  ["like_list"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(4) {
    [0]=>
    string(27) "tiki.file.attach:file:39341"
    [1]=>
    string(40) "content.related.items:trackeritem:491760"
    [2]=>
    string(40) "content.related.items:trackeritem:491763"
    [3]=>
    string(86) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:wiki page:Content:_:GRAZING: Thai, (real) Mexican, and DIY"
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    string(16) "tiki.file.attach"
    [1]=>
    string(21) "content.related.items"
    [2]=>
    string(27) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert"
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    string(18) "tiki.file.attach:1"
    [1]=>
    string(23) "content.related.items:2"
    [2]=>
    string(29) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:1"
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "G"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(7) "GRAZING"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item490992"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "490992"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(11570) " #2 B98A Reduced  2021-06-30T18:14:29+00:00 #2_B98A_reduced.jpg     grazing From Buford Highway to Chattahoochee Avenue — that’s a lot of territory, indeed #2 B98A Reduced   2021-07-01T18:12:00+00:00 Cliff Bostock explores Atlanta's new Thai restaurant Tum Pok Pok.  GRAZING: Thai, (real) Mexican, and DIY jim.harris Jim Harris Cliff Bostock cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock) 2021-07-01T18:12:00+00:00 I’ve got great news, hopeful news, and WTF news this month. Let’s start with the great, which is a new Thai restaurant, Tum Pok Pok, whose name describes a sound you know well. It’s what you hear when your Thai mother is in the kitchen pounding chilies in a mortar to make papaya salad. With six versions of the salad — “somtum” — and a menu of other regional spicy dishes, Tum Pok Pok is an absolute must-visit for anyone who loves spicy Thai food.

The restaurant, which opened in April, belongs to the same people who operate Bangkok Thyme in Sandy Springs. The particular region emphasized here is the northeastern Isan, which borders Laos and imports some of the more savory flavors and hotter spices preferred there. The shredded papaya salad, controversially thought by some to originate in Laos, is popular throughout Thailand and Vietnam, and every vendor on every street corner apparently has their own version of their region’s version.

When my friend Rose and I visited the restaurant for lunch on a Friday, we of course went directly for the somtum, which we’ve both devoured at the Vietnamese restaurant, Com, many times. Because we had other dishes in mind, we decided to get the basic version made with “crushed roasted peanuts” combined with the shredded papaya. It only took one taste to distinguish this from the Vietnamese version we’ve eaten — a comparatively volcanic eruption of stinging heat. Fortunately, my tongue and lips went just numb enough to enjoy the spiciness, the faint sourness, and crunchy peanuts and papaya. I should re-emphasize that this intense spiciness is a great part of what sets the cuisine of Isan aside. But you’re gonna love it. And you can order other somtums with less heat combined with ingredients like salted crab.


We also ordered a large plate of Isan’s version of larb, here made with minced chicken, mysterious herbs, and hot chilies tempered by a strong dose of lime. It’s juicy and perfect scooped on the plate’s peppery cabbage leaves. For an “entrée” we went to the generally more familiar Thai street-food menu like green and masaman curries. But we selected the unfamiliar pad-kra-pow moo-grop. This dish could have been made for me. It’s stir-fried crispy pork. Think my favorite carnitas or cracklins in a basil sauce, scattered with scallions and red peppers. It’s hot but not really. You eat it with jasmine rice and you wonder where the hell this dish has been all your Thai-eating life.

Besides the food, I love the look of this place. The dining room and the bar are festooned with kitsch, obviously for the sake of humor — not to promote stereotyping. I also like the location. It’s next to the City Farmers Market, so that you can leave Tum Pok Pok and rummage through the gigantic mainly Asian market for herbal remedies, huge jars of honey at a fraction of the usual cost, super-fresh produce, and rice — rice in quantities you’ve not seen since you left China.

WISHING AND HOPING

Just in time for the End of COVID, Chattahoochee Food Works has opened inside The Works, an 80-acre mixed-use development in northwest Atlanta. It is a project of Bizarre Foods host Andrew Zimmern and Robert Montwaid of Gansevoort Market in New York City. I paid a visit on a recent Sunday — along with seemingly half of Atlanta’s population, drawn by considerable publicity.


There are 31 stalls in the new food hall. Not all are open yet, but there’s plenty of temptation. My plan was to sample a few of the available flavors, but especially at Taqueria La Luz. It is operated by Luis Martinez-Obregon and Lucero Martinez-Obregon, the twins who opened Zocalo in Midtown in 1995, bringing intown Atlanta its first taste of genuine Mexican cooking instead of the otherwise pervasive Tex-Mex. Incidentally, Zocalo gained some absurd notoriety in April because of two videos showing large crowds of mainly unmasked people partying in front of the taqueria, even though it was open only for take-out. I actually wore a mask coming through the door of the new development, but literally did not see more than a few other masked people beside employees inside the stalls. Under such pressure to conform to contemporary fashion and being fully vaccinated, I removed my mask and breathed in the air. Did you know food has a great odor?

One of the shocks of returning to restaurant eating is the increase in prices, and I got a double whammy during my visit. I was excited AF to see that La Luz is featuring al pastor properly spit-roasted on a revolving trompo. For a brief period, Lucero and Luis operated a taqueria in Grant Park, where I live, and served the pork flavored with pineapple juice that is drizzled on the meat during its roasting. I ate there, oh, maybe twice a week. I couldn’t wait to try it at Luz loaded into a quesadilla, whose $10 price shocked me until I saw its huge size. I hate saying this, but it was not good. The pork was mysteriously dried out and tasted somewhat like bacon. A ton of salsa didn’t help moisturize the texture or improve the taste. I should note that the al pastor wasn’t actually on the smeared chalkboard menu. I just happened to notice the kitchen’s loaded trompo from the counter. Tacos are $3.25, which is usual, and gorditas are $7. Fillings include steak, mushrooms, fish, and chicken.

The unexpectedly large portion, only half of which I ate, left me full, but I was craving ice cream from the Morelli’s stall. I was disappointed not to find the salted caramel or my favorite ginger-lavender. I know it’s heresy, but I’m not a fan of chocolate ice cream and that seemed to be the predominant flavor. So, I ordered a sundae. I only remember eating two of these in my life. One was a bribe my mother arranged at a drugstore counter. The other was delivered to my freshman dorm room along with a pipe full of hashish. I really liked the hash better than the maraschino cherry. At Morelli’s I ordered the sundae made with a blondie — the brown-sugar brownie that typically has some chocolate chips but not an overwhelming number. I burrowed through most of the vanilla ice cream, the whipped cream, and the caramel sauce, before hitting the warmed blondie. Sorry, but it was way too chocolatey and gooey for my taste, but that’s just my own peculiar palate. It cost $8.50 — over $10 with a tip.

Other open stalls at Food Works feature Thai cuisine, Vietnamese banh mi, pizza, South African fare, pastries, soul food, sushi, ramen, and bubble teas, with more to open throughout the summer. There’s also booze, lots of booze. Don’t make the stupid mistakes I made. First, there is a huge parking lot at the complex and every space was full. Fortunately, a car came within inches of hitting me as it pulled out, so I scored a spot. I love a good near-accident. When I left, I noticed there is multilevel parking available at the end of the lot. Second, the food hall is very well designed, meaning I could find no place to actually eat my quesadilla. I ate it at the counter of a vacant stall. Later, I found a very large dining area adjacent to the food court and a huge hall lined with retail operations, full of comfy furniture where I ate the sundae.

Honestly, I love the place and expect the food to improve when the huge crowds dissipate. That’s another plus here: The employees are super-nice despite their imminent metamorphosis into zombies at the hands of the food-grubbing rabble.

WTF? GARLIC, SALT, AND TASTELESS CHEESE

It finally happened. I burned out on Trader Joe’s frozen entrees. Oh, I’ll be back for the Indian dinners, but I needed a break. So I decided to do something unappetizing. With a 50-percent-off coupon, I ordered five meals for two from Home Chef. That cost me only $50. At some point after I ordered the meals — it was impulsive, okay? — I realized this was a Kroger operation. I had seen their green-and-white boxed meals in the store. I worried.

They arrived Monday morning chilled in a large box. Each meal’s components, like veggies and spices, were packed with a tray inside a plastic bag. Meats were separately packed. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to prep and cook the meals. There were two serious problems. One meal was missing. I called and they immediately refunded the cost without the 50-percent discount, so that was nice. Then I later found that they had failed to include a major ingredient, black beans, in another meal. Fortunately, I had a can of them, so I survived.


The food? Oy. You get your choice of meats or vegan alternatives like the Impossible Burger. I went for a chicken breast with every meal except one. There were two problems that drove me nuts. Salt and garlic — added or hidden within prepared ingredients — overwhelmed everything. That’s a serious complaint from someone who has eaten salty entrees from Trader Joe’s for a year. The other annoyance was the use of tasteless cheese in every dish. It was yellow cheddar in three and parmesan in the fourth. Onion flavors were prevalent too.

My favorite meal was the simplest — a “bacon and guacamole chicken sandwich.” Okay, the guac was the usual over-seasoned fast-food goop. The bacon was crumbs you microwave and then mix with mayo squeezed out of a little envelope. The slaw dressing was ranch. What I liked really was the crunchy textures, including the cabbage, the browned chicken breast, and the grilled bread.

My least favorite was the meatballs I shaped out of weirdly cotton-candy pink ground beef combined with panko. This was the meal missing the black beans I had to supply and mix with corn kernels, zucchini slices, and, yes, shredded cheese and garlic salt. A lame salsa verde was provided to coat the meatballs. Another dish included two chicken breasts baked with “parmesan thyme butter,” plus green beans sautéed with a sliced, gigantic shallot seasoned with — oh yeah! — garlic salt and topped with the crispy onions your mama used to dump on canned green beans submerged in canned cream of mushroom soup. The final dish was chicken breasts topped with more (caramelized) onions and obnoxious “black garlic gravy,” accompanied by green peas and cheesy mashed potatoes.

I will not be doing this again, especially for double the price I paid. There are alternatives, one of which I’ve scheduled to try. —CL—

Tum Pok Pok, 5000 Buford Highway, 404-990-4688, tumpokpok.com, @tum_pok_pok

Chattahoochee Food Works, 1235 Chattahoochee Ave., Ste. 130, chattahoocheefoodworks.com, @chattahoocheefoodworks

Home Chef, Chicago, 872-225-2433, homechef.com, @homechef    Cliff Bostock THE MAIN ATTRACTION: This is one of Tum Pok Pok's classic shredded papaya salads from the Isan region of Thailand. There are five others and this is the basic one made with crushed roasted peanuts. At a later visit, I sampled a more complex version made with salted crab.  0,0,10 Tum Pok Pok (itemId:491760 trackerid:1), Chattahoochee Food Works (itemId:491763 trackerid:1)   grazing                       GRAZING: Thai, (real) Mexican, and DIY "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(35) "atlantawiki_tiki_main_6285dce1d165e"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(216) " GRAZING: Thai, (real) Mexican, and DIY"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(133) "

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(92) "From Buford Highway to Chattahoochee Avenue — that’s a lot of territory, indeed"
  ["eventDate"]=>
  string(92) "From Buford Highway to Chattahoochee Avenue — that’s a lot of territory, indeed"
  ["noads"]=>
  string(10) "y"
}

array(102) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(72) "GRAZING: Hot dogs, sideshow freaks, black cats, amnesia, and Sausage Boy"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2021-05-07T16:24:20+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2021-05-03T16:49:52+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2021-05-03T16:42:23+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["parent_object_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["parent_object_type"]=>
  string(7) "tracker"
  ["field_permissions"]=>
  string(2) "[]"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(72) "GRAZING: Hot dogs, sideshow freaks, black cats, amnesia, and Sausage Boy"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator"]=>
  string(10) "jim.harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_text"]=>
  string(10) "Jim Harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_unstemmed"]=>
  string(10) "jim harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(37) "Grazing surveys some Atlanta hot dogs"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(37) "Grazing surveys some Atlanta hot dogs"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2021-05-03T16:42:23+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(82) "Content:_:GRAZING: Hot dogs, sideshow freaks, black cats, amnesia, and Sausage Boy"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(23954) "It was a day that I should have named the Weenie Apocalypse. It was July 11, 1979, and I was in Gibsonton, Florida, outside Tampa. On that day, the whole world was crazy. The 77-ton Skylab space station was set to crash to earth. The fear that it would miss its target, the Indian Ocean, and create random hellfire turned it into the favored party theme everywhere that year.

I went to one such impromptu party that day in Gibsonton, which was famous as the summer residence of the nation’s “carnies” — people who work for the carnivals that move all around America most of the year. My particular motivation for spending a few weeks there was to hang out with sideshow performers, especially the stars of so-called freak shows — “human oddities” — for a story I was writing. Unfortunately, it was difficult to penetrate that community unless I combined obsequiousness with drunkenness. I’ll spare you the details, but I ended up drunk behind the trailer of a famous freak, grilling burgers and hot dogs. It was a big deal for an outsider to be included by carnies.

The host brought me a hot dog and I balked. “Thanks, but I don’t eat those.”

I might as well have dropped the Skylab on the festival. Everyone went silent. “You said you love carnivals and you don’t eat hot dogs? Why don’t you eat them?”

“They make me sick. Ever since I was a kid, they’ve made me sick. It’s nothing personal. They make me sick, man.” I laughed drunkenly. “It’s like you’d be hit right here by a gut bomb instead of a space station. Haha.” Nobody laughed.

Thus did I brand myself a human oddity among professional human oddities. Truly, as long as I can remember, I would not eat the scrap meat ground and compressed into the gruesome treat wrapped in spongy white bread often drenched with ketchup called the hot dog. I did learn to eat some real sausages whose flavor made it worth risking a gastrointestinal catastrophe, but I have mainly avoided hot dogs my entire life ... until a few weeks ago, when I ate so many I lost count. Pathetically, I now crave them. I love them.

It wasn’t so much culinary adventure as pandemic cabin fever that led me to my new lover. True, I was intrigued when I came across promo material for a new venture in East Atlanta Village called Screamin’ Weenies. The name isn’t novel but it’s a good choice since the hot dog stand is operated on the rear patio of the very cool Banshee restaurant. Screaming is what banshees do best. It also occurred to me that hot dog joints might make a good pandemic story. I was double-vaccinated but still cautious, and I figured hot dogs are a quick, usually outdoors eat. So I took the pills I take to make scary food digestible and headed over to Screamin’ Weenies, which is open 11:30 a.m.-3:30 p.m. Thursday through Saturday.



The patio space is small, and most people were picking up at the window of the mini-food truck where the dogs are cooked. I wanted to soak up the screamin’ vibe, so I threw my book on one of the few tiny tables available before ordering from the menu of five dogs. There was the Atlanta chili/slaw, the classic Chicago, a New Yorker with stewed onions, the classic naked that you dump everything from relish to sauerkraut on, and the day’s special Banshee Dog. I went for the latter. It included a beef hot dog over caramelized onion, flanked by sliced American cheese, topped with Thousand Island dressing pocked with chunks of dill pickle. I got all sentimental when I saw that Cheerwine, the cherry soda I drank on the Catawba River as a kid, was available.

While I swilled my Cheerwine, I watched a woman be repelled from the order window for not wearing a mask. She had left hers in the car. “Hey,” I said, “I’m double-vaccinated. You can wear mine.” She declined. Hey, it’s not like I have herpes, bitch.

I got up to fetch my dog. How do I love thee? Let me count the inches. The slim dog languidly draped itself across the roll, seriously jutting out at each end, grilled with a slight char. The ingredients were arranged with intention. I bit into one of the naked ends and got that vaunted snap from the natural lamb casing. The damn thing was delicious. The firm dog, made locally by Fripper’s, tasted like real beef and was nestled in all those creamy textures with one bit of crunch from the pickles. Damn. I wanted another but I confess I wasn’t up for paying about $20 for two dogs and a drink. But I was happy. I felt so ashamed that the young me had disparaged that hot dog long ago in Gib’town.

That very evening, I excitedly told my friend Sausage Boy about the experience. He suggested that I may not want to generalize my new happiness to every hot dog in town. For an example of irredeemable misery, he said, I would not be able to write about hot dogs in Atlanta without going to the Varsity. I gasped. “I can’t go everywhere,” I said.

He said: “The Varsity isn’t some unknown everywhere. It’s the mother of dogs, the nipple on which every Atlanta child is suckled all the way through adulthood until the grease coagulates in every artery and lands you in a coffin at a funeral celebration catered by the Varsity, the very people who killed you.”

I told him I’d think about it. I had, by the way, decided I would limit this adventure to hot dogs, not the more complicated sausages that I really did learn to love. Nor would I be eating the raw onions that overpower every other taste with which they are associated. I would, however, permit myself to sample some chili, despite my dislike of the “classic” stuff that tastes like it was poured from a can stored in a fallout shelter for 40 years.

That night I decided to try the hot dog at Grindhouse Killer Burgers. I’ve been addicted to their Apache burger ever since they first opened just over 10 years ago at the Sweet Auburn Curb Market. It has since left that location, expanding to several others, including the gigantic one on Memorial Drive that I decided to visit.

It was a Sunday night and I didn’t expect a wait. It was, after all, the Lord’s Day during a plague he had visited upon the entire world in retaliation for America’s embrace of Donald Trump. The place actually was relatively packed, and the line to order moved so slowly that, exasperated, I decided to leave and go across the parking lot to load up on Sunday specials at Supremo Taco. As I approached the window, they literally slammed the shutters closed. “Sold out!” I returned to Grindhouse, and the people in front of me earlier admitted me back to my former place. I waited literally 20 minutes total with a crowd of fellow deep-sighers and eye-rollers.

“Y’all are really slow,” I rudely said to the guy taking orders. He explained they were short-handed. Whatever. I placed my order to go and went to wait another 15 minutes at a table. When the bag arrived, I was ravenous and I decided to eat the hot dog on the premises. Grindhouse buys its dogs from legendary Vienna Beef in Chicago. I’d ordered mine with slaw, apparently the Atlanta favorite everywhere. I reached in the bag, pulled it out, and it completely fell apart in my hands. The aluminum foil I presumed was wrapping it turned out to be a loose sheet set over the top of the dog, which was in the usual cardboard cradle. I fetched the dog and bun from the floor. I swept the slaw on the table onto it. I ate it. It was actually delicious, and at $4 (including 50 cents for the slaw), it was the cheapest dog I’d eat. (I should note that the light use of aluminum foil would make the dog’s transport less steamy than full wrapping, but my piggy hands did not anticipate that.)

I began to lose track of time. The hands on my clock turned into naked weenies. Eventually, a Saturday rolled around, and I felt fortified enough to attempt the unthinkable: The Varsity. I have lived in Atlanta most of my life and I have been to this enormous cliché only three times, as I recall. Once was in high school, on the way to the Georgia/Georgia Tech game. Second was with a visiting former college roommate who later cursed himself for trusting a tourist guide. Third was with my partner’s family. All were occasions of violent protest by my innards.

I was shocked when I arrived, under the influence of GI medication, to see how crowded the place was, although I quickly found a parking space. The long line inside moved more rapidly than the bowels of the diners speeding to the bathrooms. I was happy to see that literally everyone in view was wearing a mask, except for the family of seven Appalachian refugees directly behind me. The woman in front of me surreptitiously took their picture and posted it online. “Where your masks at?” I asked Daddy Billy. He glared and pulled one of his litter close to him like a shield. “If you can use a child as your shield, you can wear a mask, dumbass.” Okay, I didn’t really say that.

I ordered the iconic crap. A chili-cheese-slaw dog, onion rings, a fried peach pie, and a Frosted Orange. I was happy to notice that I did not hear any of the counter people shrieking the classic mantra, “Whattayahave?” My order instantaneously appeared, and I toted it to the “ESPN room” where I watched the Master’s Tournament and had flashbacks to childhood of watching golf all weekend with my father. I ate.

You know what? I hate myself. I ate those gigantic, greasy onion rings in nothing flat. A young guy at a nearby table noted my speed and whined that he didn’t receive any ketchup for his rings. I tossed him my envelopes.

“Why do you people put ketchup on everything fried?” I asked him.

“Us people do that to cover up the strongest taste of the grease, dude. Duh!”

Oh my god. It makes sense because everything there does have that singular note of aged, cured frying oil, supposedly never changed for decades.

The Frosted Orange tasted like a melted Creamsicle, a bit watery but good enough to ring the bells of an ice cream truck in my head. The peach pie was fucking delicious. The hot dog of course was the most revolting thing I’ve put in my mouth since I was potty-trained. The greasy, stinky, yellow-stained chili made with ground-up mystery meat was slimed with hidden slaw from hell and yellow cheese that wouldn’t melt. Somehow, the baloney-tasting hot dog itself and its bun literally broke as if it were crying to be put out of its misery. Two bites and I was done. Sorry, dog.

I called Sausage Boy on the way home. “It wasn’t that bad,” I said. “Only the hot dog was inedible.”

“But the hot dog is the point,” he said. “You failed.”

I was okay with failing. The Lord’s Day arrived again. I decided to head to Cabbagetown to visit Little’s Food Store, where I hadn’t been in years. I used to love to visit it and neighboring Carroll Street Café but that narrow street is a nightmare to negotiate. I actually embarrassed myself by immediately finding a large parking space directly in front of Little’s, which looks like a monument to so-called outsider art. As usual, the street was full of milling residents, hanging out in a few vacant lots turned into make-shift parks.



I went inside. My eyes teared-up seeing all the grunge, and I rushed toward the grill where I was abruptly told to step my ass back. Soon enough, I ordered a chili dog with a side of slaw and some fries. I loitered, looking around mindlessly. An employee ordered me outside, where she soon brought my food in a black Styrofoam box.

I sat on a bench outside the store and opened the box. My plan was to dump the sweet, spicy slaw on the chili dog, but that was difficult. I bit into the dog. I sighed. “I might as well face it,” I told the black cat that had suddenly appeared. “I just don’t like this super-ground version of chili that seems to be everyone’s favorite.” I dunked a limp fry in the chili and put it on the sidewalk for the presumably hungry stray. The cat sniffed and looked away. Fine. I put some slaw down. He struck it with his paw and backed away. Then he turned the corner and ran up the stairs to his apparent home. I wasn’t quite as unimpressed as the cat, who probably got sick of the food years ago, and the chili was definitely better than the Varsity’s, as was the hot dog itself, made by Fripper’s like those at Screamin’ Weenies. I ate it all. But I shuddered when I looked up and saw that Little’s flew a pirate’s flag. Between it and the black cat, I must have been bound for bad luck.

I called Sausage Boy again. “I’m becoming indiscriminate,” I said. “Everything is running together in my head. A black cat derided me for eating a chili dog today.” He proposed a solution: “Go try a vegan or vegetarian hot dog.”

Was this the bad luck the cat brought? Most of the hot dog places I investigated did offer such a thing, but how could something I have always hated be any more tolerable when imitated by healthy vegetables put to criminal use? But I decided to give it a go. I journeyed in the rain to the MET in West Atlanta. This gigantic warehouse development is home to La Bodega, a take-out pupuseria which also hosts the Window, a pop-up location for start-ups. One of those is Carrot Dog, operated by Kemi Bennings as part of her company, Food for Thought Vegan Café. She has an impressive resume of feeding celebrities and brands herself a “renaissance woman and creative badass.”

When I first saw Carrot Dog during an earlier visit to review Bodega, I was thoroughly repulsed. I don’t really like carrots, and at the time I still really loathed even the thought of a hot dog. I’m going to be hated for saying this, but I ended up telling myself that this ridiculous creation was my favorite hot dog. I don’t know if that’s fair. Calling a carrot a weenie may be too oxymoronic even for this dying world.



Bennings brines fat carrots in countless spices before cooking them. The carrots have just the right texture. They aren’t mushy like the ones your mother serves with pot roast, and they aren’t raw and unseasoned like people who claim they improve vision want them to be. These are nestled into slightly grilled buns and then dressed in a variety of ways. I chose a “Southern Santa Fe” specialty dog. The carrot is covered with chopped romaine lettuce, sliced avocado, smoked chipotle vegan mayo, chopped onions (which I declined), and, um, vegan bacon. Alright, I admit that the best thing about the tiny flap of vegan bacon was that it was completely inconspicuous with no noticeable taste or texture. I actually would have preferred more heat from the chipotle mayo, but this creation was a huge relief from everything I’d eaten. I think the effect was like eating dog food for weeks and then being served a fresh salad. Whatever, it was really good and only available Saturdays.

But I was still hungry.

Shamefully, on the way home, I decided to pay a second quick visit to Hot Dog Pete’s in Summerhill. I had tried takeout with a friend last summer and wasn’t impressed enough to eat more than a couple of bites of the two dogs we ordered. The menu includes sausages as well as an all-beef wiener and one made with beef and pork. They are all made by Fritz’s Meat & Superior Sausage in Kansas City. Pete’s shares ownership and patios with the oddly named Hero Doughnuts & Buns. More than doughnuts, Hero is known for its sandwiches made with house-baked brioche buns. The fried pork chop, the “Super Crunch” chicken, and the burger are all as addictive as the name of the house’s secret sauce — “crack sauce” — suggests.

To stay consistent, I ordered an all-beef hot dog with chili and slaw. The big difference here is slaw made with collards and a brioche bun from Alon’s that earns our highly coveted Best of the Buns Award. Everything about this dog was savory — even the chili, despite one flaw: weirdly dry beans. But I’ll gladly deal with that in exchange for not having to deal with the over-seasoned greasy stuff that most seem to prefer.

Time ticked on. I was growing tired of this adventure. I called Sausage Boy and told him I felt I needed to get to two more places — the Original Hot Dog Factory and Skip’s Chicago Dogs. “I need encouragement,” I told him. “Last night I dreamed I was back in Gibsonton and Lobster Boy murdered me.” The Sausage told me he had faith in me. I hung up the phone and got in my car and headed to the Original Hot Dog Factory on Piedmont Avenue. It’s technically on the Georgia State University campus.

About four hours later I was looking up from a bed and had no idea where I was. A doctor explained that I was in the Emory Midtown Hospital emergency room. I had been in a car wreck. I was completely uninjured, but I was in a state of total amnesia. I remembered nothing of the last hours. “What is wrong with me?” I asked.

“We’re not sure,” he said.

“It’s the hot dogs,” I said.

“What?”

“Never mind.”

He wanted me to stay overnight for examination the next morning by a neurologist. However, Kaiser, my insurance company, insisted that I be discharged (and it took over a week to get an appointment with them). The next morning, I Ubered to pick up my car at the city lot where it had been towed. I expected it to be damaged, but it was not. “Are you okay?” one of the employees out front asked me.

“I need a hot dog.”

I got in my car and drove directly to the Original Hot Dog Factory. I wasn’t sure if I had actually been there or not. I only knew that my accident, which involved another car, was in the immediate area. The restaurant, part of a chain, was empty except for me and two employees.

“Hey,” I said, “did y’all happen to see an accident near here yesterday?” They said they had not. “Well, what about me? Did I eat here?” They looked a bit perturbed. “Never mind,” I said. With the advice of one of the employees, I ordered the all-beef Hawaiian dog. I also forced myself to do the unthinkable and order the second corn dog of my life.

As I had come to realize by this point, there is no such thing as a hot dog with too much topping. The Hawaiian dog’s included a gigantic load of bacon, cheese, lightly grilled onions, and lots of grilled pineapple. In other words, it was the weenie version of the Hawaiian pizza which I usually detest, but it was the perfect mindless food for the amnesiac I had become. I figured I’d forget it by the time I got home. Obviously, I didn’t. I do congratulate myself for being able to eat the mess without resorting to a knife and fork. Hot dogs have made me a master of finger food.

I don’t know exactly why the concept of a corn dog disgusts me. The only one I remember ever eating was on a dare at Dakota Blue in Grant Park about five years ago, and I actually kind of liked it. My corn dog at The Hot Dog Factory looked like a bulbous fried sex toy. I nervously bit into it and was surprised by a rush of crispy, juicy sweetness. The all-beef dog retained its earthy flavor. Yeah, boy!

I decided I needed to try a dessert. This causes me a great deal of shame, and I blame it on my brain-rattling accident. I ate a fried Twinkie. I can say with absolute certainty that I have never eaten a Twinkie in any form, although I was tempted in the late ’70s when Dan White supposedly blamed eating too many Twinkies for his assassination of San Francisco Mayor George Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk. This was labeled the “Twinkie Defense.” I have no viable defense of my decision to eat the deep-fried mess at the Hot Dog Factory, but it was spectacularly delicious, like a fist full of creamy melting cake oozing all kinds of white stuff inside sugar-coated crispy batter. It made the glazed donut at Krispy Kreme seem so pathetic.

I shared this discovery with Sausage Boy, explaining that I was starting to doubt my taste. He acknowledged my worry but urged me to be kinder to myself. I told him the Twinkie had awakened a memory of working at Six Flags Over Georgia when I was 16. How had I forgotten that I worked in a hot dog stand? How had I forgotten how much I hated the customers who acted like they were buying delicacies instead of shitloads of crap I barely cooked on a griddle? How had I forgotten that throwing a hot dog at a customer and shoving him with a broom handle had nearly gotten me fired? Obviously, the hot dog — foe of my digestion and weapon against redneck assholes — was intimately connected to the PTSD I never knew I suffered. “Be strong,” Sausage Boy told me. “You’re at the end.”

Onward! Wednesday arrived. That’s the day I resumed my years-long weekly lunch with two fully vaccinated friends. We drove to 40-year-old Skip’s Chicago Dogs in Avondale, probably the venue most hot dog lovers mentioned to me when I asked for recommendations. It looks like your usual fast-food place with mustard-and-ketchup-colored walls hung with sports stuff. Despite the name, sandwiches and burgers outnumber the hot dogs, which are made with Vienna beef.

In my little sampling of hot dogs over the years, the Chicago style has usually been the most appetizing. Skip’s dog, according to the menu, is typically topped with pickles, peppers, celery salt, mustard, relish, and tomatoes. Sorry, Skip, but my dog was a low-class version. I found none of the juicy-hot sport pickles that I love. The huge strip of dill pickle overwhelmed everything. The tomatoes were pink and flavorless. What am I missing, people?

By way of comparison to the Varsity, with which everyone positively compared it, I also ordered onion rings and a chili-slaw dog. The rings weren’t bad, but they were anemically skinny compared to the Varsity’s (and, granted, a ton less greasy). While no chili anywhere on the planet is as vile as the Varsity’s, Skip’s was totally meh, and the slaw tasted straight out of the Kroger deli bin. My friends did no better with their orders. I expected this to be the grand finale of my tour. But it was more like a return to vapidity. I felt my lust for hot dogs deflating, and, looking back, it was the dogs at Screamin’ Weenies and Carrot Dog that I hold dearest to my broken heart.

I called Sausage Boy and told him I was done. He warmly congratulated me. “Is Little’s black cat of bad fortune on you forever? Was it worth the traffic accident you don’t remember and might land you in jail?” he asked. “Was it worth the derepression of traumatic memories of the human oddities you outraged and the customer you assaulted with a hot dog at Six Flags? What impassions you now? What calls you?”

I had no answer. I had gone so high. Maybe … I called Sausage Boy repeatedly for guidance in the weeks that followed and never heard back from him. Finally, the doorbell rang one day, and there was a black cat on the front porch with a weenie between its teeth. It was time to start over. —CL—

Screamin’ Weenies, 1271 Glenwood Ave. (rear of Banshee), 404-428-2034, open 11:30 a.m.-3:30 p.m. Thurs.-Sat. only, @screaminweeniesatlanta

Grindhouse Killer Burgers, 701 Memorial Drive S.E., 404-228-3722, grindhouseburgers.com.

The Varsity, 61 North Ave. N.W., 404-881-1706, https://www.thevarsity.com/

Little’s Food Store, 198 Carroll St. S.E., 404-963-7012, https://www.littlesfoodstore.com/

Carrot Dog, 680 Murphy Ave., 404-447-8451, open 12-4 p.m. Saturdays, kemibennings.com, Kemi Bennings @carrotdogatl

Hot Dog Pete’s, 25 Georgia Ave., 470-369-6777, hotdogpetes.com, @hotdogpetes

The Original Hot Dog Factory, 75 Piedmont Ave., 404-907-4133, theoriginalhotdogfactory.com

Skip’s Chicago Dogs, 48 N. Avondale Road, Avondale Estates, 404-292-6703, skipschicagodogs.com"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(24754) "It was a day that I should have named the Weenie Apocalypse. It was July 11, 1979, and I was in Gibsonton, Florida, outside Tampa. On that day, the whole world was crazy. The 77-ton Skylab space station was set to crash to earth. The fear that it would miss its target, the Indian Ocean, and create random hellfire turned it into the favored party theme everywhere that year.

I went to one such impromptu party that day in Gibsonton, which was famous as the summer residence of the nation’s “carnies” — people who work for the carnivals that move all around America most of the year. My particular motivation for spending a few weeks there was to hang out with sideshow performers, especially the stars of so-called freak shows — “human oddities” — for a story I was writing. Unfortunately, it was difficult to penetrate that community unless I combined obsequiousness with drunkenness. I’ll spare you the details, but I ended up drunk behind the trailer of a famous freak, grilling burgers and hot dogs. It was a big deal for an outsider to be included by carnies.

The host brought me a hot dog and I balked. “Thanks, but I don’t eat those.”

I might as well have dropped the Skylab on the festival. Everyone went silent. “You said you love carnivals and you don’t eat hot dogs? Why don’t you eat them?”

“They make me sick. Ever since I was a kid, they’ve made me sick. It’s nothing personal. They make me sick, man.” I laughed drunkenly. “It’s like you’d be hit right here by a gut bomb instead of a space station. Haha.” Nobody laughed.

Thus did I brand myself a human oddity among professional human oddities. Truly, as long as I can remember, I would not eat the scrap meat ground and compressed into the gruesome treat wrapped in spongy white bread often drenched with ketchup called the hot dog. I did learn to eat some real sausages whose flavor made it worth risking a gastrointestinal catastrophe, but I have mainly avoided hot dogs my entire life ... until a few weeks ago, when I ate so many I lost count. Pathetically, I now crave them. I love them.

It wasn’t so much culinary adventure as pandemic cabin fever that led me to my new lover. True, I was intrigued when I came across promo material for a new venture in East Atlanta Village called Screamin’ Weenies. The name isn’t novel but it’s a good choice since the hot dog stand is operated on the rear patio of the very cool Banshee restaurant. Screaming is what banshees do best. It also occurred to me that hot dog joints might make a good pandemic story. I was double-vaccinated but still cautious, and I figured hot dogs are a quick, usually outdoors eat. So I took the pills I take to make scary food digestible and headed over to Screamin’ Weenies, which is open 11:30 a.m.-3:30 p.m. Thursday through Saturday.

{DIV()}{BOX( bg="#66bfff" width="100%" style="padding-left: 25px")}
{img fileId="37722|37723|37724" stylebox="float: left; margin-right:25px;" desc="desc" width="295px" responsive="y" button="popup"}
{BOX}{DIV}

The patio space is small, and most people were picking up at the window of the mini-food truck where the dogs are cooked. I wanted to soak up the screamin’ vibe, so I threw my book on one of the few tiny tables available before ordering from the menu of five dogs. There was the Atlanta chili/slaw, the classic Chicago, a New Yorker with stewed onions, the classic naked that you dump everything from relish to sauerkraut on, and the day’s special Banshee Dog. I went for the latter. It included a beef hot dog over caramelized onion, flanked by sliced American cheese, topped with Thousand Island dressing pocked with chunks of dill pickle. I got all sentimental when I saw that Cheerwine, the cherry soda I drank on the Catawba River as a kid, was available.

While I swilled my Cheerwine, I watched a woman be repelled from the order window for not wearing a mask. She had left hers in the car. “Hey,” I said, “I’m double-vaccinated. You can wear mine.” She declined. Hey, it’s not like I have herpes, bitch.

I got up to fetch my dog. How do I love thee? Let me count the inches. The slim dog languidly draped itself across the roll, seriously jutting out at each end, grilled with a slight char. The ingredients were arranged with intention. I bit into one of the naked ends and got that vaunted snap from the natural lamb casing. The damn thing was delicious. The firm dog, made locally by Fripper’s, tasted like real beef and was nestled in all those creamy textures with one bit of crunch from the pickles. Damn. I wanted another but I confess I wasn’t up for paying about $20 for two dogs and a drink. But I was happy. I felt so ashamed that the young me had disparaged that hot dog long ago in Gib’town.

That very evening, I excitedly told my friend Sausage Boy about the experience. He suggested that I may not want to generalize my new happiness to every hot dog in town. For an example of irredeemable misery, he said, I would not be able to write about hot dogs in Atlanta without going to the Varsity. I gasped. “I can’t go everywhere,” I said.

He said: “The Varsity isn’t some unknown everywhere. It’s the mother of dogs, the nipple on which every Atlanta child is suckled all the way through adulthood until the grease coagulates in every artery and lands you in a coffin at a funeral celebration catered by the Varsity, the very people who killed you.”

I told him I’d think about it. I had, by the way, decided I would limit this adventure to hot dogs, not the more complicated sausages that I really did learn to love. Nor would I be eating the raw onions that overpower every other taste with which they are associated. I would, however, permit myself to sample some chili, despite my dislike of the “classic” stuff that tastes like it was poured from a can stored in a fallout shelter for 40 years.

That night I decided to try the hot dog at Grindhouse Killer Burgers. I’ve been addicted to their Apache burger ever since they first opened just over 10 years ago at the Sweet Auburn Curb Market. It has since left that location, expanding to several others, including the gigantic one on Memorial Drive that I decided to visit.

It was a Sunday night and I didn’t expect a wait. It was, after all, the Lord’s Day during a plague he had visited upon the entire world in retaliation for America’s embrace of Donald Trump. The place actually was relatively packed, and the line to order moved so slowly that, exasperated, I decided to leave and go across the parking lot to load up on Sunday specials at Supremo Taco. As I approached the window, they literally slammed the shutters closed. “Sold out!” I returned to Grindhouse, and the people in front of me earlier admitted me back to my former place. I waited literally 20 minutes total with a crowd of fellow deep-sighers and eye-rollers.

“Y’all are really slow,” I rudely said to the guy taking orders. He explained they were short-handed. Whatever. I placed my order to go and went to wait another 15 minutes at a table. When the bag arrived, I was ravenous and I decided to eat the hot dog on the premises. Grindhouse buys its dogs from legendary Vienna Beef in Chicago. I’d ordered mine with slaw, apparently the Atlanta favorite everywhere. I reached in the bag, pulled it out, and it completely fell apart in my hands. The aluminum foil I presumed was wrapping it turned out to be a loose sheet set over the top of the dog, which was in the usual cardboard cradle. I fetched the dog and bun from the floor. I swept the slaw on the table onto it. I ate it. It was actually delicious, and at $4 (including 50 cents for the slaw), it was the cheapest dog I’d eat. (I should note that the light use of aluminum foil would make the dog’s transport less steamy than full wrapping, but my piggy hands did not anticipate that.)

I began to lose track of time. The hands on my clock turned into naked weenies. Eventually, a Saturday rolled around, and I felt fortified enough to attempt the unthinkable: The Varsity. I have lived in Atlanta most of my life and I have been to this enormous cliché only three times, as I recall. Once was in high school, on the way to the Georgia/Georgia Tech game. Second was with a visiting former college roommate who later cursed himself for trusting a tourist guide. Third was with my partner’s family. All were occasions of violent protest by my innards.

I was shocked when I arrived, under the influence of GI medication, to see how crowded the place was, although I quickly found a parking space. The long line inside moved more rapidly than the bowels of the diners speeding to the bathrooms. I was happy to see that literally everyone in view was wearing a mask, except for the family of seven Appalachian refugees directly behind me. The woman in front of me surreptitiously took their picture and posted it online. “Where your masks at?” I asked Daddy Billy. He glared and pulled one of his litter close to him like a shield. “If you can use a child as your shield, you can wear a mask, dumbass.” Okay, I didn’t really say that.

I ordered the iconic crap. A chili-cheese-slaw dog, onion rings, a fried peach pie, and a Frosted Orange. I was happy to notice that I did not hear any of the counter people shrieking the classic mantra, “Whattayahave?” My order instantaneously appeared, and I toted it to the “ESPN room” where I watched the Master’s Tournament and had flashbacks to childhood of watching golf all weekend with my father. I ate.

You know what? I hate myself. I ate those gigantic, greasy onion rings in nothing flat. A young guy at a nearby table noted my speed and whined that he didn’t receive any ketchup for his rings. I tossed him my envelopes.

“Why do you people put ketchup on everything fried?” I asked him.

“Us people do that to cover up the strongest taste of the grease, dude. Duh!”

Oh my god. It makes sense because everything there does have that singular note of aged, cured frying oil, supposedly never changed for decades.

The Frosted Orange tasted like a melted Creamsicle, a bit watery but good enough to ring the bells of an ice cream truck in my head. The peach pie was fucking delicious. The hot dog of course was the most revolting thing I’ve put in my mouth since I was potty-trained. The greasy, stinky, yellow-stained chili made with ground-up mystery meat was slimed with hidden slaw from hell and yellow cheese that wouldn’t melt. Somehow, the baloney-tasting hot dog itself and its bun literally broke as if it were crying to be put out of its misery. Two bites and I was done. Sorry, dog.

I called Sausage Boy on the way home. “It wasn’t that bad,” I said. “Only the hot dog was inedible.”

“But the hot dog is the point,” he said. “You failed.”

I was okay with failing. The Lord’s Day arrived again. I decided to head to Cabbagetown to visit Little’s Food Store, where I hadn’t been in years. I used to love to visit it and neighboring Carroll Street Café but that narrow street is a nightmare to negotiate. I actually embarrassed myself by immediately finding a large parking space directly in front of Little’s, which looks like a monument to so-called outsider art. As usual, the street was full of milling residents, hanging out in a few vacant lots turned into make-shift parks.

{DIV()}{BOX( bg="#66bfff" width="100%" style="padding-left: 25px")}
{img fileId="37725|37726|37727" stylebox="float: left; margin-right:25px;" desc="desc" width="215px" responsive="y" button="popup"}
{BOX}{DIV}

I went inside. My eyes teared-up seeing all the grunge, and I rushed toward the grill where I was abruptly told to step my ass back. Soon enough, I ordered a chili dog with a side of slaw and some fries. I loitered, looking around mindlessly. An employee ordered me outside, where she soon brought my food in a black Styrofoam box.

I sat on a bench outside the store and opened the box. My plan was to dump the sweet, spicy slaw on the chili dog, but that was difficult. I bit into the dog. I sighed. “I might as well face it,” I told the black cat that had suddenly appeared. “I just don’t like this super-ground version of chili that seems to be everyone’s favorite.” I dunked a limp fry in the chili and put it on the sidewalk for the presumably hungry stray. The cat sniffed and looked away. Fine. I put some slaw down. He struck it with his paw and backed away. Then he turned the corner and ran up the stairs to his apparent home. I wasn’t quite as unimpressed as the cat, who probably got sick of the food years ago, and the chili was definitely better than the Varsity’s, as was the hot dog itself, made by Fripper’s like those at Screamin’ Weenies. I ate it all. But I shuddered when I looked up and saw that Little’s flew a pirate’s flag. Between it and the black cat, I must have been bound for bad luck.

I called Sausage Boy again. “I’m becoming indiscriminate,” I said. “Everything is running together in my head. A black cat derided me for eating a chili dog today.” He proposed a solution: “Go try a vegan or vegetarian hot dog.”

Was this the bad luck the cat brought? Most of the hot dog places I investigated did offer such a thing, but how could something I have always hated be any more tolerable when imitated by healthy vegetables put to criminal use? But I decided to give it a go. I journeyed in the rain to the MET in West Atlanta. This gigantic warehouse development is home to La Bodega, a take-out pupuseria which also hosts the Window, a pop-up location for start-ups. One of those is Carrot Dog, operated by Kemi Bennings as part of her company, Food for Thought Vegan Café. She has an impressive resume of feeding celebrities and brands herself a “renaissance woman and creative badass.”

When I first saw Carrot Dog during an earlier visit to review Bodega, I was thoroughly repulsed. I don’t really like carrots, and at the time I still really loathed even the thought of a hot dog. I’m going to be hated for saying this, but I ended up telling myself that this ridiculous creation was my favorite hot dog. I don’t know if that’s fair. Calling a carrot a weenie may be too oxymoronic even for this dying world.

{DIV()}{BOX( bg="#66bfff" width="100%" style="padding-left: 25px")}
{img fileId="37728|37729|37730|37731" stylebox="float: left; margin-right:25px;" desc="desc" width="215px" responsive="y" button="popup"}
{BOX}{DIV}

Bennings brines fat carrots in countless spices before cooking them. The carrots have just the right texture. They aren’t mushy like the ones your mother serves with pot roast, and they aren’t raw and unseasoned like people who claim they improve vision want them to be. These are nestled into slightly grilled buns and then dressed in a variety of ways. I chose a “Southern Santa Fe” specialty dog. The carrot is covered with chopped romaine lettuce, sliced avocado, smoked chipotle vegan mayo, chopped onions (which I declined), and, um, vegan bacon. Alright, I admit that the best thing about the tiny flap of vegan bacon was that it was completely inconspicuous with no noticeable taste or texture. I actually would have preferred more heat from the chipotle mayo, but this creation was a huge relief from everything I’d eaten. I think the effect was like eating dog food for weeks and then being served a fresh salad. Whatever, it was really good and only available Saturdays.

But I was still hungry.

Shamefully, on the way home, I decided to pay a second quick visit to Hot Dog Pete’s in Summerhill. I had tried takeout with a friend last summer and wasn’t impressed enough to eat more than a couple of bites of the two dogs we ordered. The menu includes sausages as well as an all-beef wiener and one made with beef and pork. They are all made by Fritz’s Meat & Superior Sausage in Kansas City. Pete’s shares ownership and patios with the oddly named Hero Doughnuts & Buns. More than doughnuts, Hero is known for its sandwiches made with house-baked brioche buns. The fried pork chop, the “Super Crunch” chicken, and the burger are all as addictive as the name of the house’s secret sauce — “crack sauce” — suggests.

To stay consistent, I ordered an all-beef hot dog with chili and slaw. The big difference here is slaw made with collards and a brioche bun from Alon’s that earns our highly coveted Best of the Buns Award. Everything about this dog was savory — even the chili, despite one flaw: weirdly dry beans. But I’ll gladly deal with that in exchange for not having to deal with the over-seasoned greasy stuff that most seem to prefer.

Time ticked on. I was growing tired of this adventure. I called Sausage Boy and told him I felt I needed to get to two more places — the Original Hot Dog Factory and Skip’s Chicago Dogs. “I need encouragement,” I told him. “Last night I dreamed I was back in Gibsonton and Lobster Boy murdered me.” The Sausage told me he had faith in me. I hung up the phone and got in my car and headed to the Original Hot Dog Factory on Piedmont Avenue. It’s technically on the Georgia State University campus.

About four hours later I was looking up from a bed and had no idea where I was. A doctor explained that I was in the Emory Midtown Hospital emergency room. I had been in a car wreck. I was completely uninjured, but I was in a state of total amnesia. I remembered nothing of the last hours. “What is wrong with me?” I asked.

“We’re not sure,” he said.

“It’s the hot dogs,” I said.

“What?”

“Never mind.”

He wanted me to stay overnight for examination the next morning by a neurologist. However, Kaiser, my insurance company, insisted that I be discharged (and it took over a week to get an appointment with them). The next morning, I Ubered to pick up my car at the city lot where it had been towed. I expected it to be damaged, but it was not. “Are you okay?” one of the employees out front asked me.

“I need a hot dog.”

I got in my car and drove directly to the Original Hot Dog Factory. I wasn’t sure if I had actually been there or not. I only knew that my accident, which involved another car, was in the immediate area. The restaurant, part of a chain, was empty except for me and two employees.

“Hey,” I said, “did y’all happen to see an accident near here yesterday?” They said they had not. “Well, what about me? Did I eat here?” They looked a bit perturbed. “Never mind,” I said. With the advice of one of the employees, I ordered the all-beef Hawaiian dog. I also forced myself to do the unthinkable and order the second corn dog of my life.

As I had come to realize by this point, there is no such thing as a hot dog with too much topping. The Hawaiian dog’s included a gigantic load of bacon, cheese, lightly grilled onions, and lots of grilled pineapple. In other words, it was the weenie version of the Hawaiian pizza which I usually detest, but it was the perfect mindless food for the amnesiac I had become. I figured I’d forget it by the time I got home. Obviously, I didn’t. I do congratulate myself for being able to eat the mess without resorting to a knife and fork. Hot dogs have made me a master of finger food.

I don’t know exactly why the concept of a corn dog disgusts me. The only one I remember ever eating was on a dare at Dakota Blue in Grant Park about five years ago, and I actually kind of liked it. My corn dog at The Hot Dog Factory looked like a bulbous fried sex toy. I nervously bit into it and was surprised by a rush of crispy, juicy sweetness. The all-beef dog retained its earthy flavor. Yeah, boy!

I decided I needed to try a dessert. This causes me a great deal of shame, and I blame it on my brain-rattling accident. I ate a fried Twinkie. I can say with absolute certainty that I have never eaten a Twinkie in any form, although I was tempted in the late ’70s when Dan White supposedly blamed eating too many Twinkies for his assassination of San Francisco Mayor George Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk. This was labeled the “Twinkie Defense.” I have no viable defense of my decision to eat the deep-fried mess at the Hot Dog Factory, but it was spectacularly delicious, like a fist full of creamy melting cake oozing all kinds of white stuff inside sugar-coated crispy batter. It made the glazed donut at Krispy Kreme seem so pathetic.

I shared this discovery with Sausage Boy, explaining that I was starting to doubt my taste. He acknowledged my worry but urged me to be kinder to myself. I told him the Twinkie had awakened a memory of working at Six Flags Over Georgia when I was 16. How had I forgotten that I worked in a hot dog stand? How had I forgotten how much I hated the customers who acted like they were buying delicacies instead of shitloads of crap I barely cooked on a griddle? How had I forgotten that throwing a hot dog at a customer and shoving him with a broom handle had nearly gotten me fired? Obviously, the hot dog — foe of my digestion and weapon against redneck assholes — was intimately connected to the PTSD I never knew I suffered. “Be strong,” Sausage Boy told me. “You’re at the end.”

Onward! Wednesday arrived. That’s the day I resumed my years-long weekly lunch with two fully vaccinated friends. We drove to 40-year-old Skip’s Chicago Dogs in Avondale, probably the venue most hot dog lovers mentioned to me when I asked for recommendations. It looks like your usual fast-food place with mustard-and-ketchup-colored walls hung with sports stuff. Despite the name, sandwiches and burgers outnumber the hot dogs, which are made with Vienna beef.

In my little sampling of hot dogs over the years, the Chicago style has usually been the most appetizing. Skip’s dog, according to the menu, is typically topped with pickles, peppers, celery salt, mustard, relish, and tomatoes. Sorry, Skip, but my dog was a low-class version. I found none of the juicy-hot sport pickles that I love. The huge strip of dill pickle overwhelmed everything. The tomatoes were pink and flavorless. What am I missing, people?

By way of comparison to the Varsity, with which everyone positively compared it, I also ordered onion rings and a chili-slaw dog. The rings weren’t bad, but they were anemically skinny compared to the Varsity’s (and, granted, a ton less greasy). While no chili anywhere on the planet is as vile as the Varsity’s, Skip’s was totally meh, and the slaw tasted straight out of the Kroger deli bin. My friends did no better with their orders. I expected this to be the grand finale of my tour. But it was more like a return to vapidity. I felt my lust for hot dogs deflating, and, looking back, it was the dogs at Screamin’ Weenies and Carrot Dog that I hold dearest to my broken heart.

I called Sausage Boy and told him I was done. He warmly congratulated me. “Is Little’s black cat of bad fortune on you forever? Was it worth the traffic accident you don’t remember and might land you in jail?” he asked. “Was it worth the derepression of traumatic memories of the human oddities you outraged and the customer you assaulted with a hot dog at Six Flags? What impassions you now? What calls you?”

I had no answer. I had gone so high. Maybe … I called Sausage Boy repeatedly for guidance in the weeks that followed and never heard back from him. Finally, the doorbell rang one day, and there was a black cat on the front porch with a weenie between its teeth. It was time to start over. __—CL—__

''Screamin’ Weenies, 1271 Glenwood Ave. (rear of Banshee), 404-428-2034, open 11:30 a.m.-3:30 p.m. Thurs.-Sat. only, @screaminweeniesatlanta''

''Grindhouse Killer Burgers, 701 Memorial Drive S.E., 404-228-3722, grindhouseburgers.com.''

''The Varsity, 61 North Ave. N.W., 404-881-1706, [https://www.thevarsity.com/]''

''Little’s Food Store, 198 Carroll St. S.E., 404-963-7012, [https://www.littlesfoodstore.com/]''

''Carrot Dog, 680 Murphy Ave., 404-447-8451, open 12-4 p.m. Saturdays, kemibennings.com, @foodforthoughtvegancafe @carrotdogatl''

''Hot Dog Pete’s, 25 Georgia Ave., 470-369-6777, [https://www.hotdogpetes.com/|hotdogpetes.com], @hotdogpetes''

''The Original Hot Dog Factory, 75 Piedmont Ave., 404-907-4133, [https://theoriginalhotdogfactory.com/|theoriginalhotdogfactory.com]''

''Skip’s Chicago Dogs, 48 N. Avondale Road, Avondale Estates, 404-292-6703, [https://www.skipschicagodogs.com/|skipschicagodogs.com]''"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2021-05-03T16:49:52+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2021-05-07T16:24:20+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_freshness_days"]=>
  int(376)
  ["tracker_field_photos"]=>
  string(5) "37720"
  ["tracker_field_photos_names"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(19) "#1 Screamin Reduced"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filenames"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(23) "#1_Screamin_reduced.jpg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filetypes"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "image/jpeg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_text"]=>
  string(19) "#1 Screamin Reduced"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoCredit"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoTitle"]=>
  string(203) "TOP DOG: SCREAMIN' WEENIES' RECENT WEEKLY SPECIAL, AN INCOMPARABLE DOG FROM FRIPPER'S GRILLED AND SERVED OVER CARAMELIZED ONIONS AND DECORATED WITH THOUSAND ISLAND DRESSING, PICKLES, AND AMERICAN CHEESE."
  ["tracker_field_breadcrumb"]=>
  string(1) "0"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "245"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "245"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_names"]=>
  string(14) "Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_paths"]=>
  string(23) "Content::Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentLocation"]=>
  string(6) "0,0,10"
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentMiscCategories"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentFreeTags"]=>
  string(18) "grazing "hot dogs""
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "621"
    [1]=>
    string(3) "620"
  }
  ["tracker_field_section_text"]=>
  string(7) "621 620"
  ["tracker_field_section_names"]=>
  string(21) "Food Feature, Grazing"
  ["tracker_field_section_paths"]=>
  string(85) "Section::Print Features::Food Feature, Section::Print Features::Food Feature::Grazing"
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "37720"
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(1)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(4) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
    [1]=>
    int(620)
    [2]=>
    int(621)
    [3]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(9) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(245)
    [2]=>
    int(1182)
    [3]=>
    int(1477)
    [4]=>
    int(621)
    [5]=>
    int(620)
    [6]=>
    int(28)
    [7]=>
    int(988)
    [8]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(988)
    [1]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(1477)
    [1]=>
    int(621)
    [2]=>
    int(620)
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "471"
    [1]=>
    string(4) "2171"
  }
  ["freetags_text"]=>
  string(16) "grazing hot dogs"
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["user_groups"]=>
  array(7) {
    [0]=>
    string(22) "Product Representative"
    [1]=>
    string(12) "Wiki Editors"
    [2]=>
    string(17) "CL Correspondents"
    [3]=>
    string(20) "Event Representative"
    [4]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [5]=>
    string(10) "CL Editors"
    [6]=>
    string(27) "Organization Representative"
  }
  ["user_followers"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["like_list"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(27) "tiki.file.attach:file:37720"
    [1]=>
    string(120) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:wiki page:Content:_:GRAZING: Hot dogs, sideshow freaks, black cats, amnesia, and Sausage Boy"
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(16) "tiki.file.attach"
    [1]=>
    string(27) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert"
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(18) "tiki.file.attach:1"
    [1]=>
    string(29) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:1"
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "G"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(7) "GRAZING"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item489368"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "489368"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(25001) " #1 Screamin Reduced  2021-05-03T16:37:15+00:00 #1_Screamin_reduced.jpg    If you haven't tried Sahlen's hot dogs (they only sell them at Publix) then your research is incomplete.  They are a 3rd generation owned family affair that have been making their own dogs in Western New York for that long.  They are far superior to any other dogs.  The only kind I buy now for my home grill.  They used to be at Barker's Red Hots on Windy Hill that has since closed. grazing hot dogs Grazing surveys some Atlanta hot dogs #1 Screamin Reduced   2021-05-03T16:42:23+00:00  GRAZING: Hot dogs, sideshow freaks, black cats, amnesia, and Sausage Boy jim.harris Jim Harris Cliff Bostock  2021-05-03T16:42:23+00:00 It was a day that I should have named the Weenie Apocalypse. It was July 11, 1979, and I was in Gibsonton, Florida, outside Tampa. On that day, the whole world was crazy. The 77-ton Skylab space station was set to crash to earth. The fear that it would miss its target, the Indian Ocean, and create random hellfire turned it into the favored party theme everywhere that year.

I went to one such impromptu party that day in Gibsonton, which was famous as the summer residence of the nation’s “carnies” — people who work for the carnivals that move all around America most of the year. My particular motivation for spending a few weeks there was to hang out with sideshow performers, especially the stars of so-called freak shows — “human oddities” — for a story I was writing. Unfortunately, it was difficult to penetrate that community unless I combined obsequiousness with drunkenness. I’ll spare you the details, but I ended up drunk behind the trailer of a famous freak, grilling burgers and hot dogs. It was a big deal for an outsider to be included by carnies.

The host brought me a hot dog and I balked. “Thanks, but I don’t eat those.”

I might as well have dropped the Skylab on the festival. Everyone went silent. “You said you love carnivals and you don’t eat hot dogs? Why don’t you eat them?”

“They make me sick. Ever since I was a kid, they’ve made me sick. It’s nothing personal. They make me sick, man.” I laughed drunkenly. “It’s like you’d be hit right here by a gut bomb instead of a space station. Haha.” Nobody laughed.

Thus did I brand myself a human oddity among professional human oddities. Truly, as long as I can remember, I would not eat the scrap meat ground and compressed into the gruesome treat wrapped in spongy white bread often drenched with ketchup called the hot dog. I did learn to eat some real sausages whose flavor made it worth risking a gastrointestinal catastrophe, but I have mainly avoided hot dogs my entire life ... until a few weeks ago, when I ate so many I lost count. Pathetically, I now crave them. I love them.

It wasn’t so much culinary adventure as pandemic cabin fever that led me to my new lover. True, I was intrigued when I came across promo material for a new venture in East Atlanta Village called Screamin’ Weenies. The name isn’t novel but it’s a good choice since the hot dog stand is operated on the rear patio of the very cool Banshee restaurant. Screaming is what banshees do best. It also occurred to me that hot dog joints might make a good pandemic story. I was double-vaccinated but still cautious, and I figured hot dogs are a quick, usually outdoors eat. So I took the pills I take to make scary food digestible and headed over to Screamin’ Weenies, which is open 11:30 a.m.-3:30 p.m. Thursday through Saturday.



The patio space is small, and most people were picking up at the window of the mini-food truck where the dogs are cooked. I wanted to soak up the screamin’ vibe, so I threw my book on one of the few tiny tables available before ordering from the menu of five dogs. There was the Atlanta chili/slaw, the classic Chicago, a New Yorker with stewed onions, the classic naked that you dump everything from relish to sauerkraut on, and the day’s special Banshee Dog. I went for the latter. It included a beef hot dog over caramelized onion, flanked by sliced American cheese, topped with Thousand Island dressing pocked with chunks of dill pickle. I got all sentimental when I saw that Cheerwine, the cherry soda I drank on the Catawba River as a kid, was available.

While I swilled my Cheerwine, I watched a woman be repelled from the order window for not wearing a mask. She had left hers in the car. “Hey,” I said, “I’m double-vaccinated. You can wear mine.” She declined. Hey, it’s not like I have herpes, bitch.

I got up to fetch my dog. How do I love thee? Let me count the inches. The slim dog languidly draped itself across the roll, seriously jutting out at each end, grilled with a slight char. The ingredients were arranged with intention. I bit into one of the naked ends and got that vaunted snap from the natural lamb casing. The damn thing was delicious. The firm dog, made locally by Fripper’s, tasted like real beef and was nestled in all those creamy textures with one bit of crunch from the pickles. Damn. I wanted another but I confess I wasn’t up for paying about $20 for two dogs and a drink. But I was happy. I felt so ashamed that the young me had disparaged that hot dog long ago in Gib’town.

That very evening, I excitedly told my friend Sausage Boy about the experience. He suggested that I may not want to generalize my new happiness to every hot dog in town. For an example of irredeemable misery, he said, I would not be able to write about hot dogs in Atlanta without going to the Varsity. I gasped. “I can’t go everywhere,” I said.

He said: “The Varsity isn’t some unknown everywhere. It’s the mother of dogs, the nipple on which every Atlanta child is suckled all the way through adulthood until the grease coagulates in every artery and lands you in a coffin at a funeral celebration catered by the Varsity, the very people who killed you.”

I told him I’d think about it. I had, by the way, decided I would limit this adventure to hot dogs, not the more complicated sausages that I really did learn to love. Nor would I be eating the raw onions that overpower every other taste with which they are associated. I would, however, permit myself to sample some chili, despite my dislike of the “classic” stuff that tastes like it was poured from a can stored in a fallout shelter for 40 years.

That night I decided to try the hot dog at Grindhouse Killer Burgers. I’ve been addicted to their Apache burger ever since they first opened just over 10 years ago at the Sweet Auburn Curb Market. It has since left that location, expanding to several others, including the gigantic one on Memorial Drive that I decided to visit.

It was a Sunday night and I didn’t expect a wait. It was, after all, the Lord’s Day during a plague he had visited upon the entire world in retaliation for America’s embrace of Donald Trump. The place actually was relatively packed, and the line to order moved so slowly that, exasperated, I decided to leave and go across the parking lot to load up on Sunday specials at Supremo Taco. As I approached the window, they literally slammed the shutters closed. “Sold out!” I returned to Grindhouse, and the people in front of me earlier admitted me back to my former place. I waited literally 20 minutes total with a crowd of fellow deep-sighers and eye-rollers.

“Y’all are really slow,” I rudely said to the guy taking orders. He explained they were short-handed. Whatever. I placed my order to go and went to wait another 15 minutes at a table. When the bag arrived, I was ravenous and I decided to eat the hot dog on the premises. Grindhouse buys its dogs from legendary Vienna Beef in Chicago. I’d ordered mine with slaw, apparently the Atlanta favorite everywhere. I reached in the bag, pulled it out, and it completely fell apart in my hands. The aluminum foil I presumed was wrapping it turned out to be a loose sheet set over the top of the dog, which was in the usual cardboard cradle. I fetched the dog and bun from the floor. I swept the slaw on the table onto it. I ate it. It was actually delicious, and at $4 (including 50 cents for the slaw), it was the cheapest dog I’d eat. (I should note that the light use of aluminum foil would make the dog’s transport less steamy than full wrapping, but my piggy hands did not anticipate that.)

I began to lose track of time. The hands on my clock turned into naked weenies. Eventually, a Saturday rolled around, and I felt fortified enough to attempt the unthinkable: The Varsity. I have lived in Atlanta most of my life and I have been to this enormous cliché only three times, as I recall. Once was in high school, on the way to the Georgia/Georgia Tech game. Second was with a visiting former college roommate who later cursed himself for trusting a tourist guide. Third was with my partner’s family. All were occasions of violent protest by my innards.

I was shocked when I arrived, under the influence of GI medication, to see how crowded the place was, although I quickly found a parking space. The long line inside moved more rapidly than the bowels of the diners speeding to the bathrooms. I was happy to see that literally everyone in view was wearing a mask, except for the family of seven Appalachian refugees directly behind me. The woman in front of me surreptitiously took their picture and posted it online. “Where your masks at?” I asked Daddy Billy. He glared and pulled one of his litter close to him like a shield. “If you can use a child as your shield, you can wear a mask, dumbass.” Okay, I didn’t really say that.

I ordered the iconic crap. A chili-cheese-slaw dog, onion rings, a fried peach pie, and a Frosted Orange. I was happy to notice that I did not hear any of the counter people shrieking the classic mantra, “Whattayahave?” My order instantaneously appeared, and I toted it to the “ESPN room” where I watched the Master’s Tournament and had flashbacks to childhood of watching golf all weekend with my father. I ate.

You know what? I hate myself. I ate those gigantic, greasy onion rings in nothing flat. A young guy at a nearby table noted my speed and whined that he didn’t receive any ketchup for his rings. I tossed him my envelopes.

“Why do you people put ketchup on everything fried?” I asked him.

“Us people do that to cover up the strongest taste of the grease, dude. Duh!”

Oh my god. It makes sense because everything there does have that singular note of aged, cured frying oil, supposedly never changed for decades.

The Frosted Orange tasted like a melted Creamsicle, a bit watery but good enough to ring the bells of an ice cream truck in my head. The peach pie was fucking delicious. The hot dog of course was the most revolting thing I’ve put in my mouth since I was potty-trained. The greasy, stinky, yellow-stained chili made with ground-up mystery meat was slimed with hidden slaw from hell and yellow cheese that wouldn’t melt. Somehow, the baloney-tasting hot dog itself and its bun literally broke as if it were crying to be put out of its misery. Two bites and I was done. Sorry, dog.

I called Sausage Boy on the way home. “It wasn’t that bad,” I said. “Only the hot dog was inedible.”

“But the hot dog is the point,” he said. “You failed.”

I was okay with failing. The Lord’s Day arrived again. I decided to head to Cabbagetown to visit Little’s Food Store, where I hadn’t been in years. I used to love to visit it and neighboring Carroll Street Café but that narrow street is a nightmare to negotiate. I actually embarrassed myself by immediately finding a large parking space directly in front of Little’s, which looks like a monument to so-called outsider art. As usual, the street was full of milling residents, hanging out in a few vacant lots turned into make-shift parks.



I went inside. My eyes teared-up seeing all the grunge, and I rushed toward the grill where I was abruptly told to step my ass back. Soon enough, I ordered a chili dog with a side of slaw and some fries. I loitered, looking around mindlessly. An employee ordered me outside, where she soon brought my food in a black Styrofoam box.

I sat on a bench outside the store and opened the box. My plan was to dump the sweet, spicy slaw on the chili dog, but that was difficult. I bit into the dog. I sighed. “I might as well face it,” I told the black cat that had suddenly appeared. “I just don’t like this super-ground version of chili that seems to be everyone’s favorite.” I dunked a limp fry in the chili and put it on the sidewalk for the presumably hungry stray. The cat sniffed and looked away. Fine. I put some slaw down. He struck it with his paw and backed away. Then he turned the corner and ran up the stairs to his apparent home. I wasn’t quite as unimpressed as the cat, who probably got sick of the food years ago, and the chili was definitely better than the Varsity’s, as was the hot dog itself, made by Fripper’s like those at Screamin’ Weenies. I ate it all. But I shuddered when I looked up and saw that Little’s flew a pirate’s flag. Between it and the black cat, I must have been bound for bad luck.

I called Sausage Boy again. “I’m becoming indiscriminate,” I said. “Everything is running together in my head. A black cat derided me for eating a chili dog today.” He proposed a solution: “Go try a vegan or vegetarian hot dog.”

Was this the bad luck the cat brought? Most of the hot dog places I investigated did offer such a thing, but how could something I have always hated be any more tolerable when imitated by healthy vegetables put to criminal use? But I decided to give it a go. I journeyed in the rain to the MET in West Atlanta. This gigantic warehouse development is home to La Bodega, a take-out pupuseria which also hosts the Window, a pop-up location for start-ups. One of those is Carrot Dog, operated by Kemi Bennings as part of her company, Food for Thought Vegan Café. She has an impressive resume of feeding celebrities and brands herself a “renaissance woman and creative badass.”

When I first saw Carrot Dog during an earlier visit to review Bodega, I was thoroughly repulsed. I don’t really like carrots, and at the time I still really loathed even the thought of a hot dog. I’m going to be hated for saying this, but I ended up telling myself that this ridiculous creation was my favorite hot dog. I don’t know if that’s fair. Calling a carrot a weenie may be too oxymoronic even for this dying world.



Bennings brines fat carrots in countless spices before cooking them. The carrots have just the right texture. They aren’t mushy like the ones your mother serves with pot roast, and they aren’t raw and unseasoned like people who claim they improve vision want them to be. These are nestled into slightly grilled buns and then dressed in a variety of ways. I chose a “Southern Santa Fe” specialty dog. The carrot is covered with chopped romaine lettuce, sliced avocado, smoked chipotle vegan mayo, chopped onions (which I declined), and, um, vegan bacon. Alright, I admit that the best thing about the tiny flap of vegan bacon was that it was completely inconspicuous with no noticeable taste or texture. I actually would have preferred more heat from the chipotle mayo, but this creation was a huge relief from everything I’d eaten. I think the effect was like eating dog food for weeks and then being served a fresh salad. Whatever, it was really good and only available Saturdays.

But I was still hungry.

Shamefully, on the way home, I decided to pay a second quick visit to Hot Dog Pete’s in Summerhill. I had tried takeout with a friend last summer and wasn’t impressed enough to eat more than a couple of bites of the two dogs we ordered. The menu includes sausages as well as an all-beef wiener and one made with beef and pork. They are all made by Fritz’s Meat & Superior Sausage in Kansas City. Pete’s shares ownership and patios with the oddly named Hero Doughnuts & Buns. More than doughnuts, Hero is known for its sandwiches made with house-baked brioche buns. The fried pork chop, the “Super Crunch” chicken, and the burger are all as addictive as the name of the house’s secret sauce — “crack sauce” — suggests.

To stay consistent, I ordered an all-beef hot dog with chili and slaw. The big difference here is slaw made with collards and a brioche bun from Alon’s that earns our highly coveted Best of the Buns Award. Everything about this dog was savory — even the chili, despite one flaw: weirdly dry beans. But I’ll gladly deal with that in exchange for not having to deal with the over-seasoned greasy stuff that most seem to prefer.

Time ticked on. I was growing tired of this adventure. I called Sausage Boy and told him I felt I needed to get to two more places — the Original Hot Dog Factory and Skip’s Chicago Dogs. “I need encouragement,” I told him. “Last night I dreamed I was back in Gibsonton and Lobster Boy murdered me.” The Sausage told me he had faith in me. I hung up the phone and got in my car and headed to the Original Hot Dog Factory on Piedmont Avenue. It’s technically on the Georgia State University campus.

About four hours later I was looking up from a bed and had no idea where I was. A doctor explained that I was in the Emory Midtown Hospital emergency room. I had been in a car wreck. I was completely uninjured, but I was in a state of total amnesia. I remembered nothing of the last hours. “What is wrong with me?” I asked.

“We’re not sure,” he said.

“It’s the hot dogs,” I said.

“What?”

“Never mind.”

He wanted me to stay overnight for examination the next morning by a neurologist. However, Kaiser, my insurance company, insisted that I be discharged (and it took over a week to get an appointment with them). The next morning, I Ubered to pick up my car at the city lot where it had been towed. I expected it to be damaged, but it was not. “Are you okay?” one of the employees out front asked me.

“I need a hot dog.”

I got in my car and drove directly to the Original Hot Dog Factory. I wasn’t sure if I had actually been there or not. I only knew that my accident, which involved another car, was in the immediate area. The restaurant, part of a chain, was empty except for me and two employees.

“Hey,” I said, “did y’all happen to see an accident near here yesterday?” They said they had not. “Well, what about me? Did I eat here?” They looked a bit perturbed. “Never mind,” I said. With the advice of one of the employees, I ordered the all-beef Hawaiian dog. I also forced myself to do the unthinkable and order the second corn dog of my life.

As I had come to realize by this point, there is no such thing as a hot dog with too much topping. The Hawaiian dog’s included a gigantic load of bacon, cheese, lightly grilled onions, and lots of grilled pineapple. In other words, it was the weenie version of the Hawaiian pizza which I usually detest, but it was the perfect mindless food for the amnesiac I had become. I figured I’d forget it by the time I got home. Obviously, I didn’t. I do congratulate myself for being able to eat the mess without resorting to a knife and fork. Hot dogs have made me a master of finger food.

I don’t know exactly why the concept of a corn dog disgusts me. The only one I remember ever eating was on a dare at Dakota Blue in Grant Park about five years ago, and I actually kind of liked it. My corn dog at The Hot Dog Factory looked like a bulbous fried sex toy. I nervously bit into it and was surprised by a rush of crispy, juicy sweetness. The all-beef dog retained its earthy flavor. Yeah, boy!

I decided I needed to try a dessert. This causes me a great deal of shame, and I blame it on my brain-rattling accident. I ate a fried Twinkie. I can say with absolute certainty that I have never eaten a Twinkie in any form, although I was tempted in the late ’70s when Dan White supposedly blamed eating too many Twinkies for his assassination of San Francisco Mayor George Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk. This was labeled the “Twinkie Defense.” I have no viable defense of my decision to eat the deep-fried mess at the Hot Dog Factory, but it was spectacularly delicious, like a fist full of creamy melting cake oozing all kinds of white stuff inside sugar-coated crispy batter. It made the glazed donut at Krispy Kreme seem so pathetic.

I shared this discovery with Sausage Boy, explaining that I was starting to doubt my taste. He acknowledged my worry but urged me to be kinder to myself. I told him the Twinkie had awakened a memory of working at Six Flags Over Georgia when I was 16. How had I forgotten that I worked in a hot dog stand? How had I forgotten how much I hated the customers who acted like they were buying delicacies instead of shitloads of crap I barely cooked on a griddle? How had I forgotten that throwing a hot dog at a customer and shoving him with a broom handle had nearly gotten me fired? Obviously, the hot dog — foe of my digestion and weapon against redneck assholes — was intimately connected to the PTSD I never knew I suffered. “Be strong,” Sausage Boy told me. “You’re at the end.”

Onward! Wednesday arrived. That’s the day I resumed my years-long weekly lunch with two fully vaccinated friends. We drove to 40-year-old Skip’s Chicago Dogs in Avondale, probably the venue most hot dog lovers mentioned to me when I asked for recommendations. It looks like your usual fast-food place with mustard-and-ketchup-colored walls hung with sports stuff. Despite the name, sandwiches and burgers outnumber the hot dogs, which are made with Vienna beef.

In my little sampling of hot dogs over the years, the Chicago style has usually been the most appetizing. Skip’s dog, according to the menu, is typically topped with pickles, peppers, celery salt, mustard, relish, and tomatoes. Sorry, Skip, but my dog was a low-class version. I found none of the juicy-hot sport pickles that I love. The huge strip of dill pickle overwhelmed everything. The tomatoes were pink and flavorless. What am I missing, people?

By way of comparison to the Varsity, with which everyone positively compared it, I also ordered onion rings and a chili-slaw dog. The rings weren’t bad, but they were anemically skinny compared to the Varsity’s (and, granted, a ton less greasy). While no chili anywhere on the planet is as vile as the Varsity’s, Skip’s was totally meh, and the slaw tasted straight out of the Kroger deli bin. My friends did no better with their orders. I expected this to be the grand finale of my tour. But it was more like a return to vapidity. I felt my lust for hot dogs deflating, and, looking back, it was the dogs at Screamin’ Weenies and Carrot Dog that I hold dearest to my broken heart.

I called Sausage Boy and told him I was done. He warmly congratulated me. “Is Little’s black cat of bad fortune on you forever? Was it worth the traffic accident you don’t remember and might land you in jail?” he asked. “Was it worth the derepression of traumatic memories of the human oddities you outraged and the customer you assaulted with a hot dog at Six Flags? What impassions you now? What calls you?”

I had no answer. I had gone so high. Maybe … I called Sausage Boy repeatedly for guidance in the weeks that followed and never heard back from him. Finally, the doorbell rang one day, and there was a black cat on the front porch with a weenie between its teeth. It was time to start over. —CL—

Screamin’ Weenies, 1271 Glenwood Ave. (rear of Banshee), 404-428-2034, open 11:30 a.m.-3:30 p.m. Thurs.-Sat. only, @screaminweeniesatlanta

Grindhouse Killer Burgers, 701 Memorial Drive S.E., 404-228-3722, grindhouseburgers.com.

The Varsity, 61 North Ave. N.W., 404-881-1706, https://www.thevarsity.com/

Little’s Food Store, 198 Carroll St. S.E., 404-963-7012, https://www.littlesfoodstore.com/

Carrot Dog, 680 Murphy Ave., 404-447-8451, open 12-4 p.m. Saturdays, kemibennings.com, Kemi Bennings @carrotdogatl

Hot Dog Pete’s, 25 Georgia Ave., 470-369-6777, hotdogpetes.com, @hotdogpetes

The Original Hot Dog Factory, 75 Piedmont Ave., 404-907-4133, theoriginalhotdogfactory.com

Skip’s Chicago Dogs, 48 N. Avondale Road, Avondale Estates, 404-292-6703, skipschicagodogs.com    Cliff Bostock TOP DOG: SCREAMIN' WEENIES' RECENT WEEKLY SPECIAL, AN INCOMPARABLE DOG FROM FRIPPER'S GRILLED AND SERVED OVER CARAMELIZED ONIONS AND DECORATED WITH THOUSAND ISLAND DRESSING, PICKLES, AND AMERICAN CHEESE.  0,0,10    grazing "hot dogs"                       GRAZING: Hot dogs, sideshow freaks, black cats, amnesia, and Sausage Boy "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(35) "atlantawiki_tiki_main_6285dce1d165e"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(250) " GRAZING: Hot dogs, sideshow freaks, black cats, amnesia, and Sausage Boy"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(137) "

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(46) "Grazing surveys some Atlanta hot dogs"
  ["eventDate"]=>
  string(46) "Grazing surveys some Atlanta hot dogs"
  ["noads"]=>
  string(10) "y"
}

array(106) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(66) "GRAZING: Tacos, chimichangas, pupusas – and ‘banana’ pudding"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2021-01-07T21:52:05+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-12-08T14:37:10+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "ben.eason"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-12-08T14:33:37+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["parent_object_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["parent_object_type"]=>
  string(7) "tracker"
  ["field_permissions"]=>
  string(2) "[]"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(66) "GRAZING: Tacos, chimichangas, pupusas – and ‘banana’ pudding"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator"]=>
  string(10) "jim.harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_text"]=>
  string(10) "Jim Harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_unstemmed"]=>
  string(10) "jim harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "476087"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(33) "cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock)"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(90) "The pandemic makes critics self-critical but Hispanic street food still tastes really good"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(90) "The pandemic makes critics self-critical but Hispanic street food still tastes really good"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2020-12-08T14:33:37+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(76) "Content:_:GRAZING: Tacos, chimichangas, pupusas – and ‘banana’ pudding"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(13101) "It’s no surprise that the most repeated memes among dining critics since March feature the coronavirus pandemic. With a huge number of restaurants closing and a tiny number opening, critics don’t have much to review. Having basically always been an adjunct to the food service industry, they are now awakening to the kind of misery many never noticed — from the low pay and instability of restaurant employment to the way the coronavirus literally erases taste, thus provoking soul-searching like, “OMG, who made me the king of taste?”

While the present context is horrific, examination of the critic’s role has been underway at least since the Great Recession of 2007 accelerated the starvation of print journalism. To maintain economic viability, many critics were called down from the mountaintop to write news and feature stories as well as restaurant reviews. In the process, they lost the pretentious anonymity they never had to begin with while thousands of food bloggers and anonymous Yelpers created consensus that arguably gained more reliability in the public mind. Now, watching millions lose their jobs, critics are publicly ruminating their own futures. Many of their essays are a mix of hubris and startled compassion. In order to agonize for thousands of words over your need to support the industry in the future, you must have retained a very high opinion of your power, right?

More important than the etiquette of what is articulated, though, is what dining critics have long avoided saying. I’ve posted some links below that I found particularly thoughtful in this respect. I especially urge you to read the Los Angeles Times piece by critic Bill Addison, who started his career at Creative Loafing. Bill calls out the hierarchy of virtual enslavement that has defined the restaurant industry since its beginnings. Critics who can bring the insights of anthropology, history, and economics into view don’t stray from their art or purpose, as some argue. When someone whom you know to be underpaid and uninsured presents you a perfect plate of food while an infamous chef is screaming racial epithets at kitchen staff in the background, maybe it’s finally time to report the whole story. It’s the hospitality industry, after all!

Restaurants have long been the place where we gather to mark special occasions, reinforce social bonds, and cross so-called ethnic boundaries even as our actual borders remain supposedly walled. The absence of safe restaurants has added to the culture’s general malaise and — be warned — it’s really hard to find a single essay predicting a return to “normal.” Recovery from the viral threat and the devastated economy won’t occur overnight because of a vaccine’s availability on a particular day in the spring. Healing will be gradual and haunted by painful memories. So, no, you’ll likely not be able to head back to your favorite neighborhood spot in a year and find it unchanged.

Already, new restaurants are opening that enhance social distancing, especially by offering lots of patio space, but that’s not going to help much as we head into winter and must decide whether to take a table inside. Some new restaurants have incorporated interior distancing but that, to say nothing of required masks, challenges us to find pleasure amid reminders of a plague. Old and new restaurants alike are highlighting delivery, takeout, and “curb service,” a term that described dining in your car at the Varsity when I was a kid, but now means a Hazmat-clad restaurant employee will come outside and hand you your chili dogs when you drive up to the restaurant and then vamoose immediately. While you’re not supposed to eat in restaurant parking lots, I admit that more than once I’ve driven a few blocks away and tailgated in order to avoid the sloppy, steaming deterioration that takeout containers can cause. Delivery makes that effect even worse and adds a lot of dollars. Turning the whole world into one big food hall has one especially depressing effect: It reduces employment numbers significantly in a business with a very slim profit margin.



Recently, I visited three new venues that exemplify the joys and complications of takeout and dining in. They all feature Hispanic street food, which has become extremely popular in the last decade, but these three top my recent charts. I’m not going to bother to rave in particular at length about each. Just take my word for it: They are all worth the cost, which is generally low, but let’s not delude ourselves. If you want good prepared food during the pandemic (and likely after), you’re going to pay a bit more for street food and a bit less for fine dining, whose death knell is another column.

Chi Chi Vegan Taco Shop: If you’re a foodie, you’re usually willing to suspend dread in order to make room for curiosity. That was my feeling when I set out for this new Reynoldstown restaurant. Being behind the times by still expecting vegan food to taste outré instead of chichi, I thought the restaurant’s name was self-parody. It’s actually a play on owner-chef Chris Hodge’s name and, hell yes, Chi Chi is chichi AF. Located in a renovated building with other tenants, the restaurant’s exterior is salmon pink while the interior is whitewashed brick and marble.

I expected the restaurant to have patio space, but it does not, and, frankly, I was disturbed by the interior seating. There are only 20 seats and people were certainly seated near one another. Despite the requirement to wear masks, I didn’t see anyone among the seated wearing a mask while waiting for their food. Two of three people who strolled in to pick up orders were also naked from the neck up. I’ve become really grouchy about this and complained to the woman delivering food to tables. She disputed my observation, and I chose not to argue. I waited outside, perched on one of four stools.

When my food arrived 15 minutes after ordering at the counter, it was plated for dining in. I thought I’d ordered it to go. I was paranoid as hell but decided to go with it. The woman working the floor cleared a space at the end of a bar, next to the door. My first bite of an al pastor taco was astonishing. In meat-eating life it is a flour tortilla full of spit-roasted, marinated pork basted in fresh pineapple juice as it cooks. Chi Chi’s version is served in a slightly crispy tortilla. The meat substitute, “chk’n,” is plant-based, of course, and doesn’t make an effort to exactly impersonate sliced meat. It was almost like a deliciously seasoned stew topped with explosively fresh pineapple, cilantro, and onions (but missing the promised guac). I also ordered a veggie chimichanga, which was equally stunning. It was $16 but large enough for two people, and I’d venture to say it’s the best version of a chimichanga I’ve eaten in our city in a very long time. It’s full of rice, black beans, and fajita-style veggies wrapped in a gigantic fried burrito, topped with faux queso and pico de gallo. (You can add “meat” and guac.) Everything about its seasonings and textures seemed fine-tuned compared to the usual burrito dump.

The menu here is brief and I want to try everything on it, but I’m not planning to eat on the premises. Halfway through my chimichanga I got anxious as hell and asked for a box to take it home. It held up pretty well, but like all takeout food, it lost some of its gloss, even in a brief drive. Still, I suggest that you order online for pickup.

La Bodega: This is a little complicated. La Bodega is three food things seemingly crawling toward infinity. It is, foremost (to my mind), a Salvadoran pupuseria. It is a developing Hispanic grocery store (or “bodega”). It also hosts The Window for takeout pop-ups of potentially infinite numbers. Located in the gigantic, old, renovating, artsy, alternative, lovable MET complex in southwest Atlanta, it is the project of Ken and Jeanette Katz, owners of Buenos Dias Café in downtown Atlanta, which they’ve shuttered due to COVID-19.

I love pupusas but I have eaten so many bad ones in Atlanta, I gave up ordering them anywhere a few years ago. They’re not complicated. They are griddle cakes made of corn flour stuffed with a variety of ingredients. They are often compared to Venezuelan arepas and Mexican gorditas, but pupusas are stuffed before they are cooked instead of after. This makes them denser, and if made too long in advance they are virtually inedible even when dunked deeply into sauce for a long time.

I ordered a sample plate of two pupusas, with plantains, pickled cabbage slaw, and quinoa topped with black beans. The first was the pupusa revuelta, probably El Salvador’s favorite and certainly mine. It’s full of black beans, cheese, and crunchy bits of chicharrones, the fried pork fat that made my life worth living south of the border. I’ll get two next time. The other pupusa I ordered was stuffed with chicken mole characteristic of the Mexican state of Guerrero. It was tasty and tender but the red mole was a bit thin and lightly flavored for my taste. I’m not saying that’s bad. It’s a popular style, but I want more depth. You can eat these with your hands or with utensils. Just be sure you include a bit of the tangy slaw with each bite. The menu includes many other dishes such as bizarrely compelling pizzas, breakfast nachos, and Cuban sandwiches.

During my visit, two pop-up vendors were working the Windows gig. One was Carrot Dog. Sorry, I really don’t like hot dogs or carrots. However, I love banana pudding, and I made a beeline to BeyNana’s window. The owner, Micki Bey, was working outside the window, something like a carnival barker, urging people to try samples of her banana pudding. The interesting thing about BeyNana’s banana pudding is that it contains no bananas. That’s right. You don’t have to shove those overripe, browning bananas out of the way while you go for the pudding, as Ms. Bey explained to VoyageATL. There are about 20 different varieties of the pudding available, such as delicious S’mores, which I sampled. While I waited for my pupusas, I swung basic and devoured half a tub of the plain pudding with vanilla wafers. How good was it? I ate the rest of it at traffic lights on my way home, getting honked at twice. Check out La Bodega’s website for other pop-ups.

Lupe’s Mexican Eatery: Sofia Garcia Diaz of Little Tart Bake Shop has fed me something I have only been able to find one time in Atlanta since the late ‘80s. I’m talking about tacos filled with chicharrones suaves — big sloppy pieces of soft pork fat and skin. Granted, she stews them in a red sauce instead of the salsa verde in which I ate them voraciously in Houston and Mexico, but I don’t care.

Diaz, a native of Guadalajara, hosts a pop-up, Lupe’s Mexican Eatery, at Little Tart every Saturday and Sunday, 5-8 p.m. The fare changes weekly, of course. I scored my pork chubs during a week she was preparing tacos made with stews, “guisados.” I did get a dose of green sauce in which she cooked luscious beef tongue. We also sampled perfect chicken tinga and cochinita pibil. The only near-meh was the “chocoflan” — chocolate sponge cake topped with flan. Because the cake was twice as thick as the rather airy flan, the taste was overwhelmingly chocolate with only a thin ribbon of caramel here and there.

We hoped to eat on the premises, once again to avoid the terrible effect of takeout boxes on steamy tacos. We were invited to use the patio in the rear. It was empty and really dark. Nobody could find the light switch, so we ran home with our bounty. Yep, the tortillas were wrinkled, but nothing can really ruin a big glob of pork fat and a chunk of cow tongue.—CL—

Chi Chi Vegan Taco Shop, 1 Moreland Ave., 404-464-7153, chichivegan.com, @chichiveganATL, facebook.com/ChiChiVegan/

La Bodega, 680 Murphy Ave. #4158, 404-809-4158, labodegaatl.com, @labodega.atl, facebook.com/LaBodega.Atl/; BeyNana’s, @beynanassweets; Carrot Dog, Kemi Bennings

Lupe’s Mexican Eatery at Little Tart Bake Shop, 68 Georgia Ave., 404-348-4797, order online, @lupes.eatery

Suggested articles on dining criticism and post-pandemic reality

“The New Order” by Tom Sietsema, The Washington Post: https://www.washingtonpost.com/magazine/2020/04/23/restaurants-matter-reasons-more-than-dinner-posts-food-critic-what-were-danger-losing/?arc404=true

“Razed and Exposed, the Restaurant Industry is Due for Change” by Bill Addison, The Los Angeles Times: https://sports.yahoo.com/razed-exposed-restaurant-industry-due-130018600.html 

“Why This Dining Critic Isn’t Eating Out Right Now” by Ryan Sutton, Eater New York: https://ny.eater.com/2020/7/1/21310249/against-dining-out-bars-coronavirus-nyc-restaurants

“What’s Next for Restaurant Criticism?” by Christiane Lauterbach, Atlanta Magazine: https://www.atlantamagazine.com/dining-news/whats-next-for-restaurant-criticism/ —CL—"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(13388) "It’s no surprise that the most repeated memes among dining critics since March feature the coronavirus pandemic. With a huge number of restaurants closing and a tiny number opening, critics don’t have much to review. Having basically always been an adjunct to the food service industry, they are now awakening to the kind of misery many never noticed — from the low pay and instability of restaurant employment to the way the coronavirus literally erases taste, thus provoking soul-searching like, “OMG, who made me the king of taste?”

While the present context is horrific, examination of the critic’s role has been underway at least since the Great Recession of 2007 accelerated the starvation of print journalism. To maintain economic viability, many critics were called down from the mountaintop to write news and feature stories as well as restaurant reviews. In the process, they lost the pretentious anonymity they never had to begin with while thousands of food bloggers and anonymous Yelpers created consensus that arguably gained more reliability in the public mind. Now, watching millions lose their jobs, critics are publicly ruminating their own futures. Many of their essays are a mix of hubris and startled compassion. In order to agonize for thousands of words over your need to support the industry in the future, you must have retained a very high opinion of your power, right?

More important than the etiquette of what is articulated, though, is what dining critics have long avoided saying. I’ve posted some links below that I found particularly thoughtful in this respect. I especially urge you to read the ''Los Angeles Times'' piece by critic Bill Addison, who started his career at ''Creative Loafing''. Bill calls out the hierarchy of virtual enslavement that has defined the restaurant industry since its beginnings. Critics who can bring the insights of anthropology, history, and economics into view don’t stray from their art or purpose, as some argue. When someone whom you know to be underpaid and uninsured presents you a perfect plate of food while an infamous chef is screaming racial epithets at kitchen staff in the background, maybe it’s finally time to report the whole story. It’s the hospitality industry, after all!

Restaurants have long been the place where we gather to mark special occasions, reinforce social bonds, and cross so-called ethnic boundaries even as our actual borders remain supposedly walled. The absence of safe restaurants has added to the culture’s general malaise and — be warned — it’s really hard to find a single essay predicting a return to “normal.” Recovery from the viral threat and the devastated economy won’t occur overnight because of a vaccine’s availability on a particular day in the spring. Healing will be gradual and haunted by painful memories. So, no, you’ll likely not be able to head back to your favorite neighborhood spot in a year and find it unchanged.

Already, new restaurants are opening that enhance social distancing, especially by offering lots of patio space, but that’s not going to help much as we head into winter and must decide whether to take a table inside. Some new restaurants have incorporated interior distancing but that, to say nothing of required masks, challenges us to find pleasure amid reminders of a plague. Old and new restaurants alike are highlighting delivery, takeout, and “curb service,” a term that described dining in your car at the Varsity when I was a kid, but now means a Hazmat-clad restaurant employee will come outside and hand you your chili dogs when you drive up to the restaurant and then vamoose immediately. While you’re not supposed to eat in restaurant parking lots, I admit that more than once I’ve driven a few blocks away and tailgated in order to avoid the sloppy, steaming deterioration that takeout containers can cause. Delivery makes that effect even worse and adds a lot of dollars. Turning the whole world into one big food hall has one especially depressing effect: It reduces employment numbers significantly in a business with a very slim profit margin.

{DIV()}{BOX( bg="#66bfff" width="100%" style="padding-left: 25px")}
{img fileId="34592|34593|34594" stylebox="float: left; margin-right:25px;" desc="desc" width="325px" responsive="y" button="popup"}
{BOX}{DIV}

Recently, I visited three new venues that exemplify the joys and complications of takeout and dining in. They all feature Hispanic street food, which has become extremely popular in the last decade, but these three top my recent charts. I’m not going to bother to rave in particular at length about each. Just take my word for it: They are all worth the cost, which is generally low, but let’s not delude ourselves. If you want good prepared food during the pandemic (and likely after), you’re going to pay a bit more for street food and a bit less for fine dining, whose death knell is another column.

__Chi Chi Vegan Taco Shop:__ If you’re a foodie, you’re usually willing to suspend dread in order to make room for curiosity. That was my feeling when I set out for this new Reynoldstown restaurant. Being behind the times by still expecting vegan food to taste outré instead of chichi, I thought the restaurant’s name was self-parody. It’s actually a play on owner-chef Chris Hodge’s name and, hell yes, Chi Chi is chichi AF. Located in a renovated building with other tenants, the restaurant’s exterior is salmon pink while the interior is whitewashed brick and marble.

I expected the restaurant to have patio space, but it does not, and, frankly, I was disturbed by the interior seating. There are only 20 seats and people were certainly seated near one another. Despite the requirement to wear masks, I didn’t see anyone among the seated wearing a mask while waiting for their food. Two of three people who strolled in to pick up orders were also naked from the neck up. I’ve become really grouchy about this and complained to the woman delivering food to tables. She disputed my observation, and I chose not to argue. I waited outside, perched on one of four stools.

When my food arrived 15 minutes after ordering at the counter, it was plated for dining in. I thought I’d ordered it to go. I was paranoid as hell but decided to go with it. The woman working the floor cleared a space at the end of a bar, next to the door. My first bite of an al pastor taco was astonishing. In meat-eating life it is a flour tortilla full of spit-roasted, marinated pork basted in fresh pineapple juice as it cooks. Chi Chi’s version is served in a slightly crispy tortilla. The meat substitute, “chk’n,” is plant-based, of course, and doesn’t make an effort to exactly impersonate sliced meat. It was almost like a deliciously seasoned stew topped with explosively fresh pineapple, cilantro, and onions (but missing the promised guac). I also ordered a veggie chimichanga, which was equally stunning. It was $16 but large enough for two people, and I’d venture to say it’s the best version of a chimichanga I’ve eaten in our city in a very long time. It’s full of rice, black beans, and fajita-style veggies wrapped in a gigantic fried burrito, topped with faux queso and pico de gallo. (You can add “meat” and guac.) Everything about its seasonings and textures seemed fine-tuned compared to the usual burrito dump.

The menu here is brief and I want to try everything on it, but I’m not planning to eat on the premises. Halfway through my chimichanga I got anxious as hell and asked for a box to take it home. It held up pretty well, but like all takeout food, it lost some of its gloss, even in a brief drive. Still, I suggest that you order online for pickup.

__La Bodega:__ This is a little complicated. La Bodega is three food things seemingly crawling toward infinity. It is, foremost (to my mind), a Salvadoran pupuseria. It is a developing Hispanic grocery store (or “bodega”). It also hosts The Window for takeout pop-ups of potentially infinite numbers. Located in the gigantic, old, renovating, artsy, alternative, lovable MET complex in southwest Atlanta, it is the project of Ken and Jeanette Katz, owners of Buenos Dias Café in downtown Atlanta, which they’ve shuttered due to COVID-19.

I love pupusas but I have eaten so many bad ones in Atlanta, I gave up ordering them anywhere a few years ago. They’re not complicated. They are griddle cakes made of corn flour stuffed with a variety of ingredients. They are often compared to Venezuelan arepas and Mexican gorditas, but pupusas are stuffed before they are cooked instead of after. This makes them denser, and if made too long in advance they are virtually inedible even when dunked deeply into sauce for a long time.

I ordered a sample plate of two pupusas, with plantains, pickled cabbage slaw, and quinoa topped with black beans. The first was the pupusa revuelta, probably El Salvador’s favorite and certainly mine. It’s full of black beans, cheese, and crunchy bits of chicharrones, the fried pork fat that made my life worth living south of the border. I’ll get two next time. The other pupusa I ordered was stuffed with chicken mole characteristic of the Mexican state of Guerrero. It was tasty and tender but the red mole was a bit thin and lightly flavored for my taste. I’m not saying that’s bad. It’s a popular style, but I want more depth. You can eat these with your hands or with utensils. Just be sure you include a bit of the tangy slaw with each bite. The menu includes many other dishes such as bizarrely compelling pizzas, breakfast nachos, and Cuban sandwiches.

During my visit, two pop-up vendors were working the Windows gig. One was Carrot Dog. Sorry, I really don’t like hot dogs or carrots. However, I love banana pudding, and I made a beeline to __BeyNana__’s window. The owner, Micki Bey, was working outside the window, something like a carnival barker, urging people to try samples of her banana pudding. The interesting thing about BeyNana’s banana pudding is that it contains no bananas. That’s right. You don’t have to shove those overripe, browning bananas out of the way while you go for the pudding, as Ms. Bey explained to VoyageATL. There are about 20 different varieties of the pudding available, such as delicious S’mores, which I sampled. While I waited for my pupusas, I swung basic and devoured half a tub of the plain pudding with vanilla wafers. How good was it? I ate the rest of it at traffic lights on my way home, getting honked at twice. Check out La Bodega’s website for other pop-ups.

__Lupe’s Mexican Eatery:__ Sofia Garcia Diaz of Little Tart Bake Shop has fed me something I have only been able to find one time in Atlanta since the late ‘80s. I’m talking about tacos filled with chicharrones suaves — big sloppy pieces of soft pork fat and skin. Granted, she stews them in a red sauce instead of the salsa verde in which I ate them voraciously in Houston and Mexico, but I don’t care.

Diaz, a native of Guadalajara, hosts a pop-up, Lupe’s Mexican Eatery, at Little Tart every Saturday and Sunday, 5-8 p.m. The fare changes weekly, of course. I scored my pork chubs during a week she was preparing tacos made with stews, “guisados.” I did get a dose of green sauce in which she cooked luscious beef tongue. We also sampled perfect chicken tinga and cochinita pibil. The only near-meh was the “chocoflan” — chocolate sponge cake topped with flan. Because the cake was twice as thick as the rather airy flan, the taste was overwhelmingly chocolate with only a thin ribbon of caramel here and there.

We hoped to eat on the premises, once again to avoid the terrible effect of takeout boxes on steamy tacos. We were invited to use the patio in the rear. It was empty and really dark. Nobody could find the light switch, so we ran home with our bounty. Yep, the tortillas were wrinkled, but nothing can really ruin a big glob of pork fat and a chunk of cow tongue.__—CL—__

''Chi Chi Vegan Taco Shop, 1 Moreland Ave., 404-464-7153, chichivegan.com, @chichiveganATL, facebook.com/ChiChiVegan/''

''La Bodega, 680 Murphy Ave. #4158, 404-809-4158, labodegaatl.com, @labodega.atl, facebook.com/LaBodega.Atl/; BeyNana’s, @beynanassweets; Carrot Dog, @foodforthoughtvegancafe''

''Lupe’s Mexican Eatery at Little Tart Bake Shop, 68 Georgia Ave., 404-348-4797, order online, @lupes.eatery''

__Suggested articles on dining criticism and post-pandemic reality__

“The New Order” by Tom Sietsema, ''The Washington Post'': https://www.washingtonpost.com/magazine/2020/04/23/restaurants-matter-reasons-more-than-dinner-posts-food-critic-what-were-danger-losing/?arc404=true

“Razed and Exposed, the Restaurant Industry is Due for Change” by Bill Addison, ''The Los Angeles Times'': https://sports.yahoo.com/razed-exposed-restaurant-industry-due-130018600.html 

“Why This Dining Critic Isn’t Eating Out Right Now” by Ryan Sutton, ''Eater New York'': https://ny.eater.com/2020/7/1/21310249/against-dining-out-bars-coronavirus-nyc-restaurants

“What’s Next for Restaurant Criticism?” by Christiane Lauterbach, ''Atlanta Magazine'': https://www.atlantamagazine.com/dining-news/whats-next-for-restaurant-criticism/ __—CL—__"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-12-08T14:37:10+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-12-08T15:15:49+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_freshness_days"]=>
  int(526)
  ["tracker_field_photos"]=>
  string(5) "34595"
  ["tracker_field_photos_names"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(13) "GRAZ A70604B6"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filenames"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(18) "GRAZ_A70604B6.jpeg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filetypes"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "image/jpeg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_text"]=>
  string(13) "GRAZ A70604B6"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoCredit"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoTitle"]=>
  string(130) "IT'S REAL: The new Chi Chi Vegan Taco Shop features reworked Hispanic classics like this gigantic chicmichanga and al pastor taco."
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "245"
    [1]=>
    string(3) "620"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(7) "245 620"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_names"]=>
  string(14) "Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_paths"]=>
  string(23) "Content::Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(4) "1174"
    [1]=>
    string(4) "1171"
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene_text"]=>
  string(9) "1174 1171"
  ["tracker_field_scene_names"]=>
  string(16) "Foodie, COVID-19"
  ["tracker_field_scene_paths"]=>
  string(41) "Scenes::Foodie, Scenes::Updates::COVID-19"
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentLocation"]=>
  string(6) "0,0,10"
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentMiscCategories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(4) "1297"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentMiscCategories_text"]=>
  string(4) "1297"
  ["tracker_field_contentMiscCategories_names"]=>
  string(8) "Featured"
  ["tracker_field_contentMiscCategories_paths"]=>
  string(25) "Misc Categories::Featured"
  ["tracker_field_contentFreeTags"]=>
  string(7) "grazing"
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "34595"
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(6) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
    [1]=>
    int(620)
    [2]=>
    int(1171)
    [3]=>
    int(1174)
    [4]=>
    int(1297)
    [5]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(15) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(245)
    [2]=>
    int(1182)
    [3]=>
    int(1477)
    [4]=>
    int(621)
    [5]=>
    int(620)
    [6]=>
    int(564)
    [7]=>
    int(1170)
    [8]=>
    int(1171)
    [9]=>
    int(1174)
    [10]=>
    int(996)
    [11]=>
    int(1297)
    [12]=>
    int(28)
    [13]=>
    int(988)
    [14]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(988)
    [1]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(1174)
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(1170)
    [1]=>
    int(1171)
    [2]=>
    int(1174)
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(1477)
    [1]=>
    int(621)
    [2]=>
    int(620)
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "471"
  }
  ["freetags_text"]=>
  string(7) "grazing"
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["user_groups"]=>
  array(9) {
    [0]=>
    string(22) "Product Representative"
    [1]=>
    string(12) "Wiki Editors"
    [2]=>
    string(17) "CL Correspondents"
    [3]=>
    string(20) "Event Representative"
    [4]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [5]=>
    string(10) "CL Editors"
    [6]=>
    string(27) "Organization Representative"
    [7]=>
    string(18) "Account Executives"
    [8]=>
    string(7) "Artists"
  }
  ["user_followers"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "jonny"
    [1]=>
    string(14) "thevinylwarhol"
  }
  ["like_list"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(27) "tiki.file.attach:file:34595"
    [1]=>
    string(114) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:wiki page:Content:_:GRAZING: Tacos, chimichangas, pupusas – and ‘banana’ pudding"
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(16) "tiki.file.attach"
    [1]=>
    string(27) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert"
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(18) "tiki.file.attach:1"
    [1]=>
    string(29) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:1"
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "G"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(7) "GRAZING"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item477594"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "477594"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(13728) " GRAZ A70604B6  2020-12-08T14:30:04+00:00 GRAZ_A70604B6.jpeg     grazing The pandemic makes critics self-critical but Hispanic street food still tastes really good GRAZ A70604B6   2020-12-08T14:33:37+00:00  GRAZING: Tacos, chimichangas, pupusas – and ‘banana’ pudding jim.harris Jim Harris Cliff Bostock cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock) 2020-12-08T14:33:37+00:00 It’s no surprise that the most repeated memes among dining critics since March feature the coronavirus pandemic. With a huge number of restaurants closing and a tiny number opening, critics don’t have much to review. Having basically always been an adjunct to the food service industry, they are now awakening to the kind of misery many never noticed — from the low pay and instability of restaurant employment to the way the coronavirus literally erases taste, thus provoking soul-searching like, “OMG, who made me the king of taste?”

While the present context is horrific, examination of the critic’s role has been underway at least since the Great Recession of 2007 accelerated the starvation of print journalism. To maintain economic viability, many critics were called down from the mountaintop to write news and feature stories as well as restaurant reviews. In the process, they lost the pretentious anonymity they never had to begin with while thousands of food bloggers and anonymous Yelpers created consensus that arguably gained more reliability in the public mind. Now, watching millions lose their jobs, critics are publicly ruminating their own futures. Many of their essays are a mix of hubris and startled compassion. In order to agonize for thousands of words over your need to support the industry in the future, you must have retained a very high opinion of your power, right?

More important than the etiquette of what is articulated, though, is what dining critics have long avoided saying. I’ve posted some links below that I found particularly thoughtful in this respect. I especially urge you to read the Los Angeles Times piece by critic Bill Addison, who started his career at Creative Loafing. Bill calls out the hierarchy of virtual enslavement that has defined the restaurant industry since its beginnings. Critics who can bring the insights of anthropology, history, and economics into view don’t stray from their art or purpose, as some argue. When someone whom you know to be underpaid and uninsured presents you a perfect plate of food while an infamous chef is screaming racial epithets at kitchen staff in the background, maybe it’s finally time to report the whole story. It’s the hospitality industry, after all!

Restaurants have long been the place where we gather to mark special occasions, reinforce social bonds, and cross so-called ethnic boundaries even as our actual borders remain supposedly walled. The absence of safe restaurants has added to the culture’s general malaise and — be warned — it’s really hard to find a single essay predicting a return to “normal.” Recovery from the viral threat and the devastated economy won’t occur overnight because of a vaccine’s availability on a particular day in the spring. Healing will be gradual and haunted by painful memories. So, no, you’ll likely not be able to head back to your favorite neighborhood spot in a year and find it unchanged.

Already, new restaurants are opening that enhance social distancing, especially by offering lots of patio space, but that’s not going to help much as we head into winter and must decide whether to take a table inside. Some new restaurants have incorporated interior distancing but that, to say nothing of required masks, challenges us to find pleasure amid reminders of a plague. Old and new restaurants alike are highlighting delivery, takeout, and “curb service,” a term that described dining in your car at the Varsity when I was a kid, but now means a Hazmat-clad restaurant employee will come outside and hand you your chili dogs when you drive up to the restaurant and then vamoose immediately. While you’re not supposed to eat in restaurant parking lots, I admit that more than once I’ve driven a few blocks away and tailgated in order to avoid the sloppy, steaming deterioration that takeout containers can cause. Delivery makes that effect even worse and adds a lot of dollars. Turning the whole world into one big food hall has one especially depressing effect: It reduces employment numbers significantly in a business with a very slim profit margin.



Recently, I visited three new venues that exemplify the joys and complications of takeout and dining in. They all feature Hispanic street food, which has become extremely popular in the last decade, but these three top my recent charts. I’m not going to bother to rave in particular at length about each. Just take my word for it: They are all worth the cost, which is generally low, but let’s not delude ourselves. If you want good prepared food during the pandemic (and likely after), you’re going to pay a bit more for street food and a bit less for fine dining, whose death knell is another column.

Chi Chi Vegan Taco Shop: If you’re a foodie, you’re usually willing to suspend dread in order to make room for curiosity. That was my feeling when I set out for this new Reynoldstown restaurant. Being behind the times by still expecting vegan food to taste outré instead of chichi, I thought the restaurant’s name was self-parody. It’s actually a play on owner-chef Chris Hodge’s name and, hell yes, Chi Chi is chichi AF. Located in a renovated building with other tenants, the restaurant’s exterior is salmon pink while the interior is whitewashed brick and marble.

I expected the restaurant to have patio space, but it does not, and, frankly, I was disturbed by the interior seating. There are only 20 seats and people were certainly seated near one another. Despite the requirement to wear masks, I didn’t see anyone among the seated wearing a mask while waiting for their food. Two of three people who strolled in to pick up orders were also naked from the neck up. I’ve become really grouchy about this and complained to the woman delivering food to tables. She disputed my observation, and I chose not to argue. I waited outside, perched on one of four stools.

When my food arrived 15 minutes after ordering at the counter, it was plated for dining in. I thought I’d ordered it to go. I was paranoid as hell but decided to go with it. The woman working the floor cleared a space at the end of a bar, next to the door. My first bite of an al pastor taco was astonishing. In meat-eating life it is a flour tortilla full of spit-roasted, marinated pork basted in fresh pineapple juice as it cooks. Chi Chi’s version is served in a slightly crispy tortilla. The meat substitute, “chk’n,” is plant-based, of course, and doesn’t make an effort to exactly impersonate sliced meat. It was almost like a deliciously seasoned stew topped with explosively fresh pineapple, cilantro, and onions (but missing the promised guac). I also ordered a veggie chimichanga, which was equally stunning. It was $16 but large enough for two people, and I’d venture to say it’s the best version of a chimichanga I’ve eaten in our city in a very long time. It’s full of rice, black beans, and fajita-style veggies wrapped in a gigantic fried burrito, topped with faux queso and pico de gallo. (You can add “meat” and guac.) Everything about its seasonings and textures seemed fine-tuned compared to the usual burrito dump.

The menu here is brief and I want to try everything on it, but I’m not planning to eat on the premises. Halfway through my chimichanga I got anxious as hell and asked for a box to take it home. It held up pretty well, but like all takeout food, it lost some of its gloss, even in a brief drive. Still, I suggest that you order online for pickup.

La Bodega: This is a little complicated. La Bodega is three food things seemingly crawling toward infinity. It is, foremost (to my mind), a Salvadoran pupuseria. It is a developing Hispanic grocery store (or “bodega”). It also hosts The Window for takeout pop-ups of potentially infinite numbers. Located in the gigantic, old, renovating, artsy, alternative, lovable MET complex in southwest Atlanta, it is the project of Ken and Jeanette Katz, owners of Buenos Dias Café in downtown Atlanta, which they’ve shuttered due to COVID-19.

I love pupusas but I have eaten so many bad ones in Atlanta, I gave up ordering them anywhere a few years ago. They’re not complicated. They are griddle cakes made of corn flour stuffed with a variety of ingredients. They are often compared to Venezuelan arepas and Mexican gorditas, but pupusas are stuffed before they are cooked instead of after. This makes them denser, and if made too long in advance they are virtually inedible even when dunked deeply into sauce for a long time.

I ordered a sample plate of two pupusas, with plantains, pickled cabbage slaw, and quinoa topped with black beans. The first was the pupusa revuelta, probably El Salvador’s favorite and certainly mine. It’s full of black beans, cheese, and crunchy bits of chicharrones, the fried pork fat that made my life worth living south of the border. I’ll get two next time. The other pupusa I ordered was stuffed with chicken mole characteristic of the Mexican state of Guerrero. It was tasty and tender but the red mole was a bit thin and lightly flavored for my taste. I’m not saying that’s bad. It’s a popular style, but I want more depth. You can eat these with your hands or with utensils. Just be sure you include a bit of the tangy slaw with each bite. The menu includes many other dishes such as bizarrely compelling pizzas, breakfast nachos, and Cuban sandwiches.

During my visit, two pop-up vendors were working the Windows gig. One was Carrot Dog. Sorry, I really don’t like hot dogs or carrots. However, I love banana pudding, and I made a beeline to BeyNana’s window. The owner, Micki Bey, was working outside the window, something like a carnival barker, urging people to try samples of her banana pudding. The interesting thing about BeyNana’s banana pudding is that it contains no bananas. That’s right. You don’t have to shove those overripe, browning bananas out of the way while you go for the pudding, as Ms. Bey explained to VoyageATL. There are about 20 different varieties of the pudding available, such as delicious S’mores, which I sampled. While I waited for my pupusas, I swung basic and devoured half a tub of the plain pudding with vanilla wafers. How good was it? I ate the rest of it at traffic lights on my way home, getting honked at twice. Check out La Bodega’s website for other pop-ups.

Lupe’s Mexican Eatery: Sofia Garcia Diaz of Little Tart Bake Shop has fed me something I have only been able to find one time in Atlanta since the late ‘80s. I’m talking about tacos filled with chicharrones suaves — big sloppy pieces of soft pork fat and skin. Granted, she stews them in a red sauce instead of the salsa verde in which I ate them voraciously in Houston and Mexico, but I don’t care.

Diaz, a native of Guadalajara, hosts a pop-up, Lupe’s Mexican Eatery, at Little Tart every Saturday and Sunday, 5-8 p.m. The fare changes weekly, of course. I scored my pork chubs during a week she was preparing tacos made with stews, “guisados.” I did get a dose of green sauce in which she cooked luscious beef tongue. We also sampled perfect chicken tinga and cochinita pibil. The only near-meh was the “chocoflan” — chocolate sponge cake topped with flan. Because the cake was twice as thick as the rather airy flan, the taste was overwhelmingly chocolate with only a thin ribbon of caramel here and there.

We hoped to eat on the premises, once again to avoid the terrible effect of takeout boxes on steamy tacos. We were invited to use the patio in the rear. It was empty and really dark. Nobody could find the light switch, so we ran home with our bounty. Yep, the tortillas were wrinkled, but nothing can really ruin a big glob of pork fat and a chunk of cow tongue.—CL—

Chi Chi Vegan Taco Shop, 1 Moreland Ave., 404-464-7153, chichivegan.com, @chichiveganATL, facebook.com/ChiChiVegan/

La Bodega, 680 Murphy Ave. #4158, 404-809-4158, labodegaatl.com, @labodega.atl, facebook.com/LaBodega.Atl/; BeyNana’s, @beynanassweets; Carrot Dog, Kemi Bennings

Lupe’s Mexican Eatery at Little Tart Bake Shop, 68 Georgia Ave., 404-348-4797, order online, @lupes.eatery

Suggested articles on dining criticism and post-pandemic reality

“The New Order” by Tom Sietsema, The Washington Post: https://www.washingtonpost.com/magazine/2020/04/23/restaurants-matter-reasons-more-than-dinner-posts-food-critic-what-were-danger-losing/?arc404=true

“Razed and Exposed, the Restaurant Industry is Due for Change” by Bill Addison, The Los Angeles Times: https://sports.yahoo.com/razed-exposed-restaurant-industry-due-130018600.html 

“Why This Dining Critic Isn’t Eating Out Right Now” by Ryan Sutton, Eater New York: https://ny.eater.com/2020/7/1/21310249/against-dining-out-bars-coronavirus-nyc-restaurants

“What’s Next for Restaurant Criticism?” by Christiane Lauterbach, Atlanta Magazine: https://www.atlantamagazine.com/dining-news/whats-next-for-restaurant-criticism/ —CL—    Cliff Bostock IT'S REAL: The new Chi Chi Vegan Taco Shop features reworked Hispanic classics like this gigantic chicmichanga and al pastor taco.  0,0,10    grazing                       GRAZING: Tacos, chimichangas, pupusas – and ‘banana’ pudding "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(35) "atlantawiki_tiki_main_6285dce1d165e"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(244) " GRAZING: Tacos, chimichangas, pupusas – and ‘banana’ pudding"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(131) "

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(99) "The pandemic makes critics self-critical but Hispanic street food still tastes really good"
  ["eventDate"]=>
  string(99) "The pandemic makes critics self-critical but Hispanic street food still tastes really good"
  ["noads"]=>
  string(10) "y"
}

array(102) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(87) "GRAZING: A quizzical inquiry: Why is a transient cat eating better than her human host?"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2022-02-01T18:48:26+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-10-02T14:36:06+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "ben.eason"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-10-03T14:26:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["parent_object_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["parent_object_type"]=>
  string(7) "tracker"
  ["field_permissions"]=>
  string(2) "[]"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(87) "GRAZING: A quizzical inquiry: Why is a transient cat eating better than her human host?"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator"]=>
  string(10) "jim.harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_text"]=>
  string(10) "Jim Harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_unstemmed"]=>
  string(10) "jim harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "476087"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(33) "cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock)"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2020-10-03T14:26:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(96) "Content:_:GRAZING: A quizzical inquiry: Why is a transient cat eating better than her human host"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(12771) "Not all great chefs feed humans. We’ll get to that, but first I should explain that I’m not a homebody. I’ve always seen my psychology clients in my home office in Grant Park, but I’ve done most of my writing in coffee shops. I even dedicated my 400-page doctoral dissertation to the staff of the Ansley Starbucks. Now, thanks to COVID-19, I have no choice but to sit in place at home. That brings me to the front porch of this house. It’s purple, as Prince would have it, and it’s up a flight of stairs so steep that I’ve frequently seen delivery drivers slow down, look up, and keep driving. The sad thing is that despite the pleasant view, the porch has had no furniture in the 25 years I’ve lived here because, well, sitting should occur at restaurants and coffee shops. 

Since I can’t hang out in coffee shops now, in August I finally retired my Bialetti moka, and bought a cheap but deservedly well-rated espresso maker from Hamilton Beach. I’ve taken to making lattes and sitting on the steps mornings because I have to socialize with a tortoiseshell cat that has taken up residence on the porch. She started hanging out behind the house in mid-August, frequently peering through the glass panes of the door, making an unearthly sound — something like a squeak that turned into a high-pitched whine. We figured she was yet another starving stray we’d end up letting in the house. She looked skinny, so I took out some Hill’s dry food, which we feed our cat Patricia. I have never seen food disappear so quickly. I noticed she was wearing a tag and mentioned this to Wayne. He read it. Her name is Quiz. He managed to wrangle her into a crate after two days and walked her over to her owners’ house on a street barely a block away. That was that. Obviously, she was feigning hunger because her owners said they feed her regularly. They explained that they had adopted her from a nearby resident who moved and couldn’t take her with him. She has lived outdoors all of her estimated 15 years. 


A month later, I was sitting on the steps with Quiz shortly after I got out of bed around 12 noon. She came back to the purple porch after Wayne carried her home. Then the owners came over, and we crated her for a second trip home. She had a great meal there, hung out with a neighbor … and returned to the purple porch. So, there we were on September 12, watching a bunch of masked people who were hanging out at the coach house across the street, laughing, listening to faint music, drinking coffee, and eating pastries. It turned out to be a new pop-up, Café Nube, whose theme is the culture of Miami, where co-owner Raul Peña, a first-generation Cuban immigrant, was born. He and his wife Liz Peña both lost their jobs, thanks to La Corona, and decided to create Nube, which means “cloud” and alludes to “the magical sunsets and clouds that Miami is known for,” according to Liz. Her background is in event production and marketing. Raul, a DJ and producer, was in the film industry, and the music angle is what makes Café Nube especially unique. Besides traditional Cuban pastries and coffee drinks, they collect and sell vintage vinyl records. Raul curates gift packs of five records.


The pop-up in front of the house was their first, and because of my late rising and sitting on the steps in boxer shorts, I decided to not risk indecent exposure while senile by walking across the street. Later, I chatted with Raul, who told me he is making flan and pastelitos, the traditional Cuban puff pastry typically filled with guava. I’ll be honest. Guava’s not my fave. I ate several tons of the sticky stuff after I married a Cuban woman when I was 20. I don’t get it. What I do like is Cuban coffee. Raul makes it in the traditional stove-top moka, like the one I just retired. People often equate Cuban coffee, “cafecito,” with Italian espresso, but it’s different. At least it is in Miami. Typically made with very strong, finely-ground coffee like Bustelo, it’s somewhat bitter but super-sweet because it is combined with a frothy blend of sugar and a few teaspoons of coffee. It looks like Italian crema, but it’s not. Café Nube serves four coffee drinks and several mysterious sodas based on Cuban cocktails. Liz infuses them with CBD, which means they cure everything. Check out their Instagram for dates of upcoming pop-ups and go early. They sold almost everything, including the record packs, during this first pop-up.

When Quiz returned after the two attempts to reunite her with her owners, I became suspicious. The couple, Matt and Tina Lunalover, seemed extremely nice, despite their weird surname. But maybe they just had too much on their plate. They had disclosed that they own four additional cats and two dogs (including one kitten and one puppy). We swapped a lot of email while Quiz continued to rule the purple porch day and night. The Lunalovers mentioned during the second attempted abduction that all of their pets’ food is homemade. I inwardly rolled my eyes, remembering my mother scraping all the day’s leftovers into a dog bowl. How do people not understand that dry food like Hill’s is finely tuned to a pet’s nutritional needs? Maybe Quiz, like all wise inhabitants of the planet, knew a healthy diet was life-giving. I mean, we all read the nutritional analysis on food labels to make sure we are getting everything we need, right?  But I’m not calling DFACS for CATS, and I agreed with the Lunalovers that the only way Quiz was going to return home was if I stopped feeding her altogether. I tried, but my heart is gold. Like a Pavlovian rat, I wasn’t able to go longer than 15 hours before I rewarded Quiz’s shouting for kibble.


Then the Lunalovers, both former Apple employees, bomb-shelled me. It turns out that making gourmet raw food for cats and dogs is actually their livelihood. They operate Rebel Raw, continually grinding up organs, muscle, skin, and bones of everything from rabbits to turkeys and lambs in a facility near their home. They use restaurant-grade meat and only add vitamins and minerals — no filler. Customers have the option of delivery or picking up their orders from a freezer on the Lunalovers’ front porch. As if to add more absurdity to this drama, it turns out that Matt is the nephew of Paul Luna — the infamous, temperamental, and brilliant chef who opened many restaurants here, the last one being Lunacy Black Market. Matt’s father, Albert Lunalover, who changed his name from Luna to be cooler, worked with Paul, developing Eclipse di Luna and Luna Si. Then he created Avocados and Hopscotch in downtown Gainesville. Matt and Tina use the same suppliers as most restaurants do, including Springer Mountain chicken. (Paul now resides in Winterthur, Switzerland, where he operates JesusRICE!)


Tina provided all the details about the inadequacy of corporate pet foods, which you can read about on the Rebel Raw website. The more she said, the more I felt like an inadequate parent. She wrote me: “We know you mean well by feeding her but realize that … dry, hard pellets are nutritionally insufficient and consist of processed non-foods. Kibble is coated with chemicals and appetite enhancers to get cats to eat what is nowhere near their natural diet. Think the cat equivalent of corn syrup and MSG. Thus cats become ‘addicted’ and eat way more than they need to … Why do you think so many cats have kidney disease? Their kidneys have been overworked trying to process kibble all those years. Cats’ digestive systems were not designed to process hard, dry pellets. Those were made for shelf life and human convenience.”

OMGMEOW! A few days later, I was hauling about 10 days’ worth of chicken meals out of the Rebel Raw freezer. Quiz started eating it straight away, but I confess I left some kibble in her bowl at night. Big mistake. If she doesn’t get it, she truly turns into a banshee withdrawing from crack, screaming at the back door. Hopefully that will be fully resolved by the time you read this. It’s true that some cats do become fussy, but the Lunalovers suggest experimenting with different ground meats when that occurs. Rebel Raw also sells tempting side dishes and treats like pig ears, chicken necks, beef jerky, sardines, and other items that will make life a daily nightmare for vegetarian animal activists. (Yes, I know about evolution.)

Why would Quiz abandon her owners who have comfy porch furniture and provide a fancy resting space for her, whereas we have no porch furniture — only a cardboard box. Ultimately, we concluded that Quiz took up residence on the purple porch, not because she loves us, but because, after 15 years of outdoor living, she hates dogs. The Lunalovers have two, and the neighbor Quiz visited regularly had been hosting a friend’s puppy for a week. Quiz abandoned her too. So Quiz remains a citizen of the world, not a mere pet, although she started coming inside occasionally. She is grateful. I know this because she left a dead mouse on the purple porch, standing a few yards away, happily squeaking. Inside, she prefers my office, particularly the chair where clients usually sit. Like some clients, she talks continually — something I learned is common among tortoiseshell cats. But now, the tide has turned. She jumps on the table where I am eating one of my many guilty pleasures, the frozen Thai eggplant from Trader Joe’s. It is my favorite of all their frozen dishes, but it has an absurd quantity of salt in it, as do the Indian meals I most frequently consume, especially the butter chicken which is also slick with cholesterol. In other words, La Corona has me eating really bad. But I won’t quibble with Quiz about human kibble.

Last month, admitting my TJ COVID-19 Diet, I promised to name my favorite salt licks there. Here we go. After the microwavable Indian foods and the Thai eggplant, I most enjoy the kung pao chicken, the extremely popular Mandarin orange chicken (with sickeningly sweet sauce whose dose I cut in half), the spanakopita (the triangles, not the pie), the chicken pot pie (though the pastry is temperamental), the shepherd’s pie, the cauliflower gnocchi (as well as the “real” gnocchi), and the steak and stout pies. Anything cheesy is usually good. I don’t like their Mexican food because it has the usual Texxy-Mexxy overdose of “chile powder.” Okay, the microwavable frozen chicken burrito with green salsa will pass. Minus the lasagna, I have found the Italian dishes pretty mediocre, although I was surprised by the realness of flat bread topped with burrata, super-micro-shaved prosciutto, and arugula. 

Speaking of arugula, that and red bell peppers are the only produce I buy at Trader Joe’s. They are high-quality and cheap while most other vegetables are overpriced. The only bread I much like is the ciabatta rolls, but be warned: These, like most TJ bread, sprout mold in just a few days because they are preservative-free. The solution is to freeze the bread; it doesn’t affect quality. I also like the crumpets, something hard to find anywhere else in the city, and I like to slather them with either the store’s lemon curd or fig butter. Nearly every aisle of Trader Joe’s is topped with cookies and crackers. If you don’t buy the triple-ginger snaps, you are dumb. So, what to avoid for sure? I haven’t eaten everything there, but the frozen “bowls” like the Mexican burrito bowl and the Cuban one are really bad. Looking over this list, I realize that with the exception of the Indian and Thai dishes, I use a real stove and oven for dishes that need browning, even though they are microwavable. Sometimes, I actually add ingredients. Props to me for that homey touch.

“Is this an ethical dilemma?” I ask Quiz. “Why should I buy you the raw flesh of slaughtered, ground-up animals, just because you are a cat, while I eat cheap Trader Joe’s stuff because I don’t want to cook or spend the money on healthy precooked meals?” She does that cat-stretch thing, turns and heads to the comfortless purple porch where nobody owns her and the space is pure feng shui with only her cardboard box. Annoyed, she seriously didn’t come back inside for another 24 hours, even during a thunderstorm. She is well fed. She is fearless. She is a loving con. —CL—

Café Nube, 305-303-9614, cafenuberecords at gmail.com, @cafenuberecords.

Rebel Raw, 404-382-7729, rebelraw.com, questions at rebelraw.com, @rebelrawfood.

Paul Luna, facebook.com/JesusRiceByChefLuna/.

Trader Joe’s, traderjoes.com. (Note: TJ’s stores are open 8-9 a.m. for disabled and senior shoppers only, due to the COVID pandemic.)"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(13040) "Not all great chefs feed humans. We’ll get to that, but first I should explain that I’m not a homebody. I’ve always seen my psychology clients in my home office in Grant Park, but I’ve done most of my writing in coffee shops. I even dedicated my 400-page doctoral dissertation to the staff of the Ansley Starbucks. Now, thanks to COVID-19, I have no choice but to sit in place at home. That brings me to the front porch of this house. It’s purple, as Prince would have it, and it’s up a flight of stairs so steep that I’ve frequently seen delivery drivers slow down, look up, and keep driving. The sad thing is that despite the pleasant view, the porch has had no furniture in the 25 years I’ve lived here because, well, sitting should occur at restaurants and coffee shops. 

Since I can’t hang out in coffee shops now, in August I finally retired my Bialetti moka, and bought a cheap but deservedly well-rated espresso maker from Hamilton Beach. I’ve taken to making lattes and sitting on the steps mornings because I have to socialize with a tortoiseshell cat that has taken up residence on the porch. She started hanging out behind the house in mid-August, frequently peering through the glass panes of the door, making an unearthly sound — something like a squeak that turned into a high-pitched whine. We figured she was yet another starving stray we’d end up letting in the house. She looked skinny, so I took out some Hill’s dry food, which we feed our cat Patricia. I have never seen food disappear so quickly. I noticed she was wearing a tag and mentioned this to Wayne. He read it. Her name is Quiz. He managed to wrangle her into a crate after two days and walked her over to her owners’ house on a street barely a block away. That was that. Obviously, she was feigning hunger because her owners said they feed her regularly. They explained that they had adopted her from a nearby resident who moved and couldn’t take her with him. She has lived outdoors all of her estimated 15 years. 

{BOX( bg="#66bfff" float="right" align="left" style="padding-right:30px;")}{imagefloatright imageid="33193" wdthval="500px"}{BOX}
A month later, I was sitting on the steps with Quiz shortly after I got out of bed around 12 noon. She came back to the purple porch after Wayne carried her home. Then the owners came over, and we crated her for a second trip home. She had a great meal there, hung out with a neighbor … and returned to the purple porch. So, there we were on September 12, watching a bunch of masked people who were hanging out at the coach house across the street, laughing, listening to faint music, drinking coffee, and eating pastries. It turned out to be a new pop-up, Café Nube, whose theme is the culture of Miami, where co-owner Raul Peña, a first-generation Cuban immigrant, was born. He and his wife Liz Peña both lost their jobs, thanks to La Corona, and decided to create Nube, which means “cloud” and alludes to “the magical sunsets and clouds that Miami is known for,” according to Liz. Her background is in event production and marketing. Raul, a DJ and producer, was in the film industry, and the music angle is what makes Café Nube especially unique. Besides traditional Cuban pastries and coffee drinks, they collect and sell vintage vinyl records. Raul curates gift packs of five records.


The pop-up in front of the house was their first, and because of my late rising and sitting on the steps in boxer shorts, I decided to not risk indecent exposure while senile by walking across the street. Later, I chatted with Raul, who told me he is making flan and pastelitos, the traditional Cuban puff pastry typically filled with guava. I’ll be honest. Guava’s not my fave. I ate several tons of the sticky stuff after I married a Cuban woman when I was 20. I don’t get it. What I do like is Cuban coffee. Raul makes it in the traditional stove-top moka, like the one I just retired. People often equate Cuban coffee, “cafecito,” with Italian espresso, but it’s different. At least it is in Miami. Typically made with very strong, finely-ground coffee like Bustelo, it’s somewhat bitter but super-sweet because it is combined with a frothy blend of sugar and a few teaspoons of coffee. It looks like Italian crema, but it’s not. Café Nube serves four coffee drinks and several mysterious sodas based on Cuban cocktails. Liz infuses them with CBD, which means they cure everything. Check out their Instagram for dates of upcoming pop-ups and go early. They sold almost everything, including the record packs, during this first pop-up.

When Quiz returned after the two attempts to reunite her with her owners, I became suspicious. The couple, Matt and Tina Lunalover, seemed extremely nice, despite their weird surname. But maybe they just had too much on their plate. They had disclosed that they own four additional cats and two dogs (including one kitten and one puppy). We swapped a lot of email while Quiz continued to rule the purple porch day and night. The Lunalovers mentioned during the second attempted abduction that all of their pets’ food is homemade. I inwardly rolled my eyes, remembering my mother scraping all the day’s leftovers into a dog bowl. How do people not understand that dry food like Hill’s is finely tuned to a pet’s nutritional needs? Maybe Quiz, like all wise inhabitants of the planet, knew a healthy diet was life-giving. I mean, we all read the nutritional analysis on food labels to make sure we are getting everything we need, right?  But I’m not calling DFACS for CATS, and I agreed with the Lunalovers that the only way Quiz was going to return home was if I stopped feeding her altogether. I tried, but my heart is gold. Like a Pavlovian rat, I wasn’t able to go longer than 15 hours before I rewarded Quiz’s shouting for kibble.

{BOX( bg="#66bfff" float="left" align="left" style="padding-left:30px;")}{imagefloatleft imageid="33194" wdthval="500px"}{BOX}
Then the Lunalovers, both former Apple employees, bomb-shelled me. It turns out that making gourmet raw food for cats and dogs is actually their livelihood. They operate Rebel Raw, continually grinding up organs, muscle, skin, and bones of everything from rabbits to turkeys and lambs in a facility near their home. They use restaurant-grade meat and only add vitamins and minerals — no filler. Customers have the option of delivery or picking up their orders from a freezer on the Lunalovers’ front porch. As if to add more absurdity to this drama, it turns out that Matt is the nephew of Paul Luna — the infamous, temperamental, and brilliant chef who opened many restaurants here, the last one being Lunacy Black Market. Matt’s father, Albert Lunalover, who changed his name from Luna to be cooler, worked with Paul, developing Eclipse di Luna and Luna Si. Then he created Avocados and Hopscotch in downtown Gainesville. Matt and Tina use the same suppliers as most restaurants do, including Springer Mountain chicken. (Paul now resides in Winterthur, Switzerland, where he operates JesusRICE!)


Tina provided all the details about the inadequacy of corporate pet foods, which you can read about on the Rebel Raw website. The more she said, the more I felt like an inadequate parent. She wrote me: “We know you mean well by feeding her but realize that … dry, hard pellets are nutritionally insufficient and consist of processed non-foods. Kibble is coated with chemicals and appetite enhancers to get cats to eat what is nowhere near their natural diet. Think the cat equivalent of corn syrup and MSG. Thus cats become ‘addicted’ and eat way more than they need to … Why do you think so many cats have kidney disease? Their kidneys have been overworked trying to process kibble all those years. Cats’ digestive systems were not designed to process hard, dry pellets. Those were made for shelf life and human convenience.”

OMGMEOW! A few days later, I was hauling about 10 days’ worth of chicken meals out of the Rebel Raw freezer. Quiz started eating it straight away, but I confess I left some kibble in her bowl at night. Big mistake. If she doesn’t get it, she truly turns into a banshee withdrawing from crack, screaming at the back door. Hopefully that will be fully resolved by the time you read this. It’s true that some cats do become fussy, but the Lunalovers suggest experimenting with different ground meats when that occurs. Rebel Raw also sells tempting side dishes and treats like pig ears, chicken necks, beef jerky, sardines, and other items that will make life a daily nightmare for vegetarian animal activists. (Yes, I know about evolution.)

Why would Quiz abandon her owners who have comfy porch furniture and provide a fancy resting space for her, whereas we have no porch furniture — only a cardboard box. Ultimately, we concluded that Quiz took up residence on the purple porch, not because she loves us, but because, after 15 years of outdoor living, she hates dogs. The Lunalovers have two, and the neighbor Quiz visited regularly had been hosting a friend’s puppy for a week. Quiz abandoned her too. So Quiz remains a citizen of the world, not a mere pet, although she started coming inside occasionally. She is grateful. I know this because she left a dead mouse on the purple porch, standing a few yards away, happily squeaking. Inside, she prefers my office, particularly the chair where clients usually sit. Like some clients, she talks continually — something I learned is common among tortoiseshell cats. But now, the tide has turned. She jumps on the table where I am eating one of my many guilty pleasures, the frozen Thai eggplant from Trader Joe’s. It is my favorite of all their frozen dishes, but it has an absurd quantity of salt in it, as do the Indian meals I most frequently consume, especially the butter chicken which is also slick with cholesterol. In other words, La Corona has me eating really bad. But I won’t quibble with Quiz about human kibble.

Last month, admitting my TJ COVID-19 Diet, I promised to name my favorite salt licks there. Here we go. After the microwavable Indian foods and the Thai eggplant, I most enjoy the kung pao chicken, the extremely popular Mandarin orange chicken (with sickeningly sweet sauce whose dose I cut in half), the spanakopita (the triangles, not the pie), the chicken pot pie (though the pastry is temperamental), the shepherd’s pie, the cauliflower gnocchi (as well as the “real” gnocchi), and the steak and stout pies. Anything cheesy is usually good. I don’t like their Mexican food because it has the usual Texxy-Mexxy overdose of “chile powder.” Okay, the microwavable frozen chicken burrito with green salsa will pass. Minus the lasagna, I have found the Italian dishes pretty mediocre, although I was surprised by the realness of flat bread topped with burrata, super-micro-shaved prosciutto, and arugula. 

Speaking of arugula, that and red bell peppers are the only produce I buy at Trader Joe’s. They are high-quality and cheap while most other vegetables are overpriced. The only bread I much like is the ciabatta rolls, but be warned: These, like most TJ bread, sprout mold in just a few days because they are preservative-free. The solution is to freeze the bread; it doesn’t affect quality. I also like the crumpets, something hard to find anywhere else in the city, and I like to slather them with either the store’s lemon curd or fig butter. Nearly every aisle of Trader Joe’s is topped with cookies and crackers. If you don’t buy the triple-ginger snaps, you are dumb. So, what to avoid for sure? I haven’t eaten everything there, but the frozen “bowls” like the Mexican burrito bowl and the Cuban one are really bad. Looking over this list, I realize that with the exception of the Indian and Thai dishes, I use a real stove and oven for dishes that need browning, even though they are microwavable. Sometimes, I actually add ingredients. Props to me for that homey touch.

“Is this an ethical dilemma?” I ask Quiz. “Why should I buy you the raw flesh of slaughtered, ground-up animals, just because you are a cat, while I eat cheap Trader Joe’s stuff because I don’t want to cook or spend the money on healthy precooked meals?” She does that cat-stretch thing, turns and heads to the comfortless purple porch where nobody owns her and the space is pure feng shui with only her cardboard box. Annoyed, she seriously didn’t come back inside for another 24 hours, even during a thunderstorm. She is well fed. She is fearless. She is a loving con. __—CL—__

''Café Nube, 305-303-9614, cafenuberecords@gmail.com, @cafenuberecords.''

''Rebel Raw, 404-382-7729, rebelraw.com, questions@rebelraw.com, @rebelrawfood.''

''Paul Luna, facebook.com/JesusRiceByChefLuna/.''

''Trader Joe’s, traderjoes.com. (Note: TJ’s stores are open 8-9 a.m. for disabled and senior shoppers only, due to the COVID pandemic.)''"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-10-02T14:36:06+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-10-02T15:38:58+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_freshness_days"]=>
  int(593)
  ["tracker_field_photos"]=>
  string(5) "33195"
  ["tracker_field_photos_names"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(12) "Quiz The Cat"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filenames"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(17) "quiz_the_cat.jpeg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filetypes"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "image/jpeg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_text"]=>
  string(12) "Quiz The Cat"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoCredit"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoTitle"]=>
  string(89) "QUIZ: A health-food trickster poses as a 15-year-old tortoiseshell cat on a purple porch."
  ["tracker_field_breadcrumb"]=>
  string(1) "0"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "245"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "245"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_names"]=>
  string(14) "Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_paths"]=>
  string(23) "Content::Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentLocation"]=>
  string(6) "0,0,10"
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentMiscCategories"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentFreeTags"]=>
  string(7) "grazing"
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "620"
  }
  ["tracker_field_section_text"]=>
  string(3) "620"
  ["tracker_field_section_names"]=>
  string(7) "Grazing"
  ["tracker_field_section_paths"]=>
  string(46) "Section::Print Features::Food Feature::Grazing"
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "33195"
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
    [1]=>
    int(620)
    [2]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(9) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(245)
    [2]=>
    int(1182)
    [3]=>
    int(1477)
    [4]=>
    int(621)
    [5]=>
    int(620)
    [6]=>
    int(28)
    [7]=>
    int(988)
    [8]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(988)
    [1]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(1477)
    [1]=>
    int(621)
    [2]=>
    int(620)
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "471"
  }
  ["freetags_text"]=>
  string(7) "grazing"
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["user_groups"]=>
  array(9) {
    [0]=>
    string(22) "Product Representative"
    [1]=>
    string(12) "Wiki Editors"
    [2]=>
    string(17) "CL Correspondents"
    [3]=>
    string(20) "Event Representative"
    [4]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [5]=>
    string(10) "CL Editors"
    [6]=>
    string(27) "Organization Representative"
    [7]=>
    string(18) "Account Executives"
    [8]=>
    string(7) "Artists"
  }
  ["user_followers"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "jonny"
    [1]=>
    string(14) "thevinylwarhol"
  }
  ["like_list"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(27) "tiki.file.attach:file:33195"
    [1]=>
    string(134) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:wiki page:Content:_:GRAZING: A quizzical inquiry: Why is a transient cat eating better than her human host"
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(16) "tiki.file.attach"
    [1]=>
    string(27) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert"
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(18) "tiki.file.attach:1"
    [1]=>
    string(29) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:1"
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "G"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(7) "GRAZING"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item476177"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "476177"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(13423) " Quiz The Cat QUIZ: A health-food trickster poses as a 15-year-old tortoiseshell cat on a purple porch. Photo credit: Cliff Bostock 2020-10-02T15:08:03+00:00 quiz_the_cat.jpeg     grazing  Quiz The Cat   2020-10-03T14:26:00+00:00  GRAZING: A quizzical inquiry: Why is a transient cat eating better than her human host? jim.harris Jim Harris Cliff Bostock cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock) 2020-10-03T14:26:00+00:00 Not all great chefs feed humans. We’ll get to that, but first I should explain that I’m not a homebody. I’ve always seen my psychology clients in my home office in Grant Park, but I’ve done most of my writing in coffee shops. I even dedicated my 400-page doctoral dissertation to the staff of the Ansley Starbucks. Now, thanks to COVID-19, I have no choice but to sit in place at home. That brings me to the front porch of this house. It’s purple, as Prince would have it, and it’s up a flight of stairs so steep that I’ve frequently seen delivery drivers slow down, look up, and keep driving. The sad thing is that despite the pleasant view, the porch has had no furniture in the 25 years I’ve lived here because, well, sitting should occur at restaurants and coffee shops. 

Since I can’t hang out in coffee shops now, in August I finally retired my Bialetti moka, and bought a cheap but deservedly well-rated espresso maker from Hamilton Beach. I’ve taken to making lattes and sitting on the steps mornings because I have to socialize with a tortoiseshell cat that has taken up residence on the porch. She started hanging out behind the house in mid-August, frequently peering through the glass panes of the door, making an unearthly sound — something like a squeak that turned into a high-pitched whine. We figured she was yet another starving stray we’d end up letting in the house. She looked skinny, so I took out some Hill’s dry food, which we feed our cat Patricia. I have never seen food disappear so quickly. I noticed she was wearing a tag and mentioned this to Wayne. He read it. Her name is Quiz. He managed to wrangle her into a crate after two days and walked her over to her owners’ house on a street barely a block away. That was that. Obviously, she was feigning hunger because her owners said they feed her regularly. They explained that they had adopted her from a nearby resident who moved and couldn’t take her with him. She has lived outdoors all of her estimated 15 years. 


A month later, I was sitting on the steps with Quiz shortly after I got out of bed around 12 noon. She came back to the purple porch after Wayne carried her home. Then the owners came over, and we crated her for a second trip home. She had a great meal there, hung out with a neighbor … and returned to the purple porch. So, there we were on September 12, watching a bunch of masked people who were hanging out at the coach house across the street, laughing, listening to faint music, drinking coffee, and eating pastries. It turned out to be a new pop-up, Café Nube, whose theme is the culture of Miami, where co-owner Raul Peña, a first-generation Cuban immigrant, was born. He and his wife Liz Peña both lost their jobs, thanks to La Corona, and decided to create Nube, which means “cloud” and alludes to “the magical sunsets and clouds that Miami is known for,” according to Liz. Her background is in event production and marketing. Raul, a DJ and producer, was in the film industry, and the music angle is what makes Café Nube especially unique. Besides traditional Cuban pastries and coffee drinks, they collect and sell vintage vinyl records. Raul curates gift packs of five records.


The pop-up in front of the house was their first, and because of my late rising and sitting on the steps in boxer shorts, I decided to not risk indecent exposure while senile by walking across the street. Later, I chatted with Raul, who told me he is making flan and pastelitos, the traditional Cuban puff pastry typically filled with guava. I’ll be honest. Guava’s not my fave. I ate several tons of the sticky stuff after I married a Cuban woman when I was 20. I don’t get it. What I do like is Cuban coffee. Raul makes it in the traditional stove-top moka, like the one I just retired. People often equate Cuban coffee, “cafecito,” with Italian espresso, but it’s different. At least it is in Miami. Typically made with very strong, finely-ground coffee like Bustelo, it’s somewhat bitter but super-sweet because it is combined with a frothy blend of sugar and a few teaspoons of coffee. It looks like Italian crema, but it’s not. Café Nube serves four coffee drinks and several mysterious sodas based on Cuban cocktails. Liz infuses them with CBD, which means they cure everything. Check out their Instagram for dates of upcoming pop-ups and go early. They sold almost everything, including the record packs, during this first pop-up.

When Quiz returned after the two attempts to reunite her with her owners, I became suspicious. The couple, Matt and Tina Lunalover, seemed extremely nice, despite their weird surname. But maybe they just had too much on their plate. They had disclosed that they own four additional cats and two dogs (including one kitten and one puppy). We swapped a lot of email while Quiz continued to rule the purple porch day and night. The Lunalovers mentioned during the second attempted abduction that all of their pets’ food is homemade. I inwardly rolled my eyes, remembering my mother scraping all the day’s leftovers into a dog bowl. How do people not understand that dry food like Hill’s is finely tuned to a pet’s nutritional needs? Maybe Quiz, like all wise inhabitants of the planet, knew a healthy diet was life-giving. I mean, we all read the nutritional analysis on food labels to make sure we are getting everything we need, right?  But I’m not calling DFACS for CATS, and I agreed with the Lunalovers that the only way Quiz was going to return home was if I stopped feeding her altogether. I tried, but my heart is gold. Like a Pavlovian rat, I wasn’t able to go longer than 15 hours before I rewarded Quiz’s shouting for kibble.


Then the Lunalovers, both former Apple employees, bomb-shelled me. It turns out that making gourmet raw food for cats and dogs is actually their livelihood. They operate Rebel Raw, continually grinding up organs, muscle, skin, and bones of everything from rabbits to turkeys and lambs in a facility near their home. They use restaurant-grade meat and only add vitamins and minerals — no filler. Customers have the option of delivery or picking up their orders from a freezer on the Lunalovers’ front porch. As if to add more absurdity to this drama, it turns out that Matt is the nephew of Paul Luna — the infamous, temperamental, and brilliant chef who opened many restaurants here, the last one being Lunacy Black Market. Matt’s father, Albert Lunalover, who changed his name from Luna to be cooler, worked with Paul, developing Eclipse di Luna and Luna Si. Then he created Avocados and Hopscotch in downtown Gainesville. Matt and Tina use the same suppliers as most restaurants do, including Springer Mountain chicken. (Paul now resides in Winterthur, Switzerland, where he operates JesusRICE!)


Tina provided all the details about the inadequacy of corporate pet foods, which you can read about on the Rebel Raw website. The more she said, the more I felt like an inadequate parent. She wrote me: “We know you mean well by feeding her but realize that … dry, hard pellets are nutritionally insufficient and consist of processed non-foods. Kibble is coated with chemicals and appetite enhancers to get cats to eat what is nowhere near their natural diet. Think the cat equivalent of corn syrup and MSG. Thus cats become ‘addicted’ and eat way more than they need to … Why do you think so many cats have kidney disease? Their kidneys have been overworked trying to process kibble all those years. Cats’ digestive systems were not designed to process hard, dry pellets. Those were made for shelf life and human convenience.”

OMGMEOW! A few days later, I was hauling about 10 days’ worth of chicken meals out of the Rebel Raw freezer. Quiz started eating it straight away, but I confess I left some kibble in her bowl at night. Big mistake. If she doesn’t get it, she truly turns into a banshee withdrawing from crack, screaming at the back door. Hopefully that will be fully resolved by the time you read this. It’s true that some cats do become fussy, but the Lunalovers suggest experimenting with different ground meats when that occurs. Rebel Raw also sells tempting side dishes and treats like pig ears, chicken necks, beef jerky, sardines, and other items that will make life a daily nightmare for vegetarian animal activists. (Yes, I know about evolution.)

Why would Quiz abandon her owners who have comfy porch furniture and provide a fancy resting space for her, whereas we have no porch furniture — only a cardboard box. Ultimately, we concluded that Quiz took up residence on the purple porch, not because she loves us, but because, after 15 years of outdoor living, she hates dogs. The Lunalovers have two, and the neighbor Quiz visited regularly had been hosting a friend’s puppy for a week. Quiz abandoned her too. So Quiz remains a citizen of the world, not a mere pet, although she started coming inside occasionally. She is grateful. I know this because she left a dead mouse on the purple porch, standing a few yards away, happily squeaking. Inside, she prefers my office, particularly the chair where clients usually sit. Like some clients, she talks continually — something I learned is common among tortoiseshell cats. But now, the tide has turned. She jumps on the table where I am eating one of my many guilty pleasures, the frozen Thai eggplant from Trader Joe’s. It is my favorite of all their frozen dishes, but it has an absurd quantity of salt in it, as do the Indian meals I most frequently consume, especially the butter chicken which is also slick with cholesterol. In other words, La Corona has me eating really bad. But I won’t quibble with Quiz about human kibble.

Last month, admitting my TJ COVID-19 Diet, I promised to name my favorite salt licks there. Here we go. After the microwavable Indian foods and the Thai eggplant, I most enjoy the kung pao chicken, the extremely popular Mandarin orange chicken (with sickeningly sweet sauce whose dose I cut in half), the spanakopita (the triangles, not the pie), the chicken pot pie (though the pastry is temperamental), the shepherd’s pie, the cauliflower gnocchi (as well as the “real” gnocchi), and the steak and stout pies. Anything cheesy is usually good. I don’t like their Mexican food because it has the usual Texxy-Mexxy overdose of “chile powder.” Okay, the microwavable frozen chicken burrito with green salsa will pass. Minus the lasagna, I have found the Italian dishes pretty mediocre, although I was surprised by the realness of flat bread topped with burrata, super-micro-shaved prosciutto, and arugula. 

Speaking of arugula, that and red bell peppers are the only produce I buy at Trader Joe’s. They are high-quality and cheap while most other vegetables are overpriced. The only bread I much like is the ciabatta rolls, but be warned: These, like most TJ bread, sprout mold in just a few days because they are preservative-free. The solution is to freeze the bread; it doesn’t affect quality. I also like the crumpets, something hard to find anywhere else in the city, and I like to slather them with either the store’s lemon curd or fig butter. Nearly every aisle of Trader Joe’s is topped with cookies and crackers. If you don’t buy the triple-ginger snaps, you are dumb. So, what to avoid for sure? I haven’t eaten everything there, but the frozen “bowls” like the Mexican burrito bowl and the Cuban one are really bad. Looking over this list, I realize that with the exception of the Indian and Thai dishes, I use a real stove and oven for dishes that need browning, even though they are microwavable. Sometimes, I actually add ingredients. Props to me for that homey touch.

“Is this an ethical dilemma?” I ask Quiz. “Why should I buy you the raw flesh of slaughtered, ground-up animals, just because you are a cat, while I eat cheap Trader Joe’s stuff because I don’t want to cook or spend the money on healthy precooked meals?” She does that cat-stretch thing, turns and heads to the comfortless purple porch where nobody owns her and the space is pure feng shui with only her cardboard box. Annoyed, she seriously didn’t come back inside for another 24 hours, even during a thunderstorm. She is well fed. She is fearless. She is a loving con. —CL—

Café Nube, 305-303-9614, cafenuberecords at gmail.com, @cafenuberecords.

Rebel Raw, 404-382-7729, rebelraw.com, questions at rebelraw.com, @rebelrawfood.

Paul Luna, facebook.com/JesusRiceByChefLuna/.

Trader Joe’s, traderjoes.com. (Note: TJ’s stores are open 8-9 a.m. for disabled and senior shoppers only, due to the COVID pandemic.)    Cliff Bostock QUIZ: A health-food trickster poses as a 15-year-old tortoiseshell cat on a purple porch.  0,0,10    grazing                       GRAZING: A quizzical inquiry: Why is a transient cat eating better than her human host? "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(35) "atlantawiki_tiki_main_6285dce1d165e"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(265) " GRAZING: A quizzical inquiry: Why is a transient cat eating better than her human host?"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(235) "

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(32) "No description provided"
  ["eventDate"]=>
  string(32) "No description provided"
  ["noads"]=>
  string(10) "y"
}

array(109) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(71) "GRAZING: Ten ways COVID-19 has changed the foodie experience in Atlanta"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2021-01-08T00:05:52+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-09-09T14:04:49+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "ben.eason"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-09-09T13:49:42+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["parent_object_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["parent_object_type"]=>
  string(7) "tracker"
  ["field_permissions"]=>
  string(2) "[]"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(71) "GRAZING: Ten ways COVID-19 has changed the foodie experience in Atlanta"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator"]=>
  string(10) "jim.harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_text"]=>
  string(10) "Jim Harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_unstemmed"]=>
  string(10) "jim harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "476087"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(33) "cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock)"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(58) "During the pandemic, treat yourself to dinner and yourself"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(58) "During the pandemic, treat yourself to dinner and yourself"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2020-09-09T13:49:42+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(81) "Content:_:GRAZING: Ten ways COVID-19 has changed the foodie experience in Atlanta"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(18480) "The coronavirus pandemic has wrought complete chaos in Atlanta’s restaurant and bar community. Anything definitive I might try to say about the scene would be completely changed by the time you read this. So, my purpose here is to look at some of the general effects of the pandemic from my own and a few others’ personal perspectives. Let’s start with the particularly amazing resilience of neighborhood restaurants, without which, could turn into heartbreaking loss.

I’ve lived in Grant Park for 25 years, and during the last six of those, I’ve walked the three blocks to Grant Central Pizza alone every Wednesday. The draw is the weekly special, chicken piccata with mashed potatoes, but I’ve also formed all the attachments that make neighborhood restaurants so compelling in that “Cheers” sort of way.

Well, sort of.

!!Where nobody knows your name no more

Personally, I hate people, but I enjoy watching them in the way children love watching the animals in the zoo down the road. I do, however, actually love Grant Central’s staff — particularly Jessy Forney, the young front-of-the-house manager for almost eight years. I started my weekly visits soon after my life turned to shit, and, in need of distraction, I bought a television for the first time in 35 years. One day, I heard Jessy going on about some TV program. At that moment she became my TV mentor, but, over the years, she also became someone whose mind I realized was wonderfully weird and far more brilliant than she realized herself. She also operates a pet-sitting business — that business is also down — and I’ve made it my goal to get her to become a therapist specializing in emotional support animals.

Grant Central, like most neighborhood restaurants, discontinued inside dining when the pandemic arrived. It is lucky in that, as a pizzeria, it already had a great takeout business, whereas many other small neighbor-hood restaurants have been severely crippled or killed by the pandemic. Jessy, who had to let most of the staff go, now works the makeshift take-out counter that allows people to come into the restaurant for pickup as long as they wear masks and keep their distance. Now and then, someone goes Karen, particularly with the younger staff members.

She, Jessy, misses her customers as much as we miss her. “It makes me teary-eyed thinking of it,” she wrote me. “I miss things like our ‘Friday Night Crew,’ where I would get to talk to all these amazing regulars about the past week. I have regulars who would come in almost daily after hours of the trauma-infused Atlanta traffic, and we would chat about all kinds of interesting things or nothing at all. There are a lot of smiles I miss.” She also mentioned our ritual of recounting TV plots and strange dreams we had on Tuesday nights.

Generally, she copes with the loss of income and uncertainty with the help of meditation. If there’s a silver lining around, she says the sudden increase in free time has led her down a new path of self-examination. Fine, girl, but don’t go all sane on us.

!!It may be a pandemic, but we be in-a-gadda-da-vida with a little bear…

Takeout and patios have saved the restaurant industry. While Little Bear in Summerhill does not offer the latter, it does provide $55, multi-course takeout meals for two that are absolutely the city’s most compelling. It’s difficult to describe owner/chef Jarrett Stieber’s cuisine without sounding silly. But when I look at his food, I often recall a quote from playwright Luigi Pirandello that captioned a black light poster of a fish in a tree in my freshman dormitory room: “Life is full of infinite absurdities, which, strangely enough, do not even need to appear plausible, since they are true.” His food is culinary theater of the absurd so good it had the James Beard committee giving him a (metaphorical) standing ovation last year.



Speaking as someone with a useless PhD in psychology, I think Stieber’s absurdism is really, really good for mental health. The pandemic, the racial strife, and the jack-o-lantern’s bid for reelection have turned our collective skull into a cauldron of bubbling ugliness. Stieber’s cooking is the contrary. It’s a melding of seemingly disparate elements into a beautiful landscape that’s going to fill you with wonder — as in “Wonderland” — instead of disgust. One recent example that Stieber “absolutely loved” was a “butternut squash salad dressed with smoked fig, yung lemongrass, aji limon chili, dried cucumber seasoning, and holy basil.” He also mentioned — I’m editing — “a fun posset dessert, a medieval cream pudding thickened by citric acid … topped with what we referred to as a ‘terrarium-like mélange of nutty choco crunch mix — pretentious flowers, mountain mint, and benne seed.” Yeah, boy.

Stieber, whom I profiled in our May issue, opened Little Bear only two weeks before restaurants were closed by mandate. Since his work was already nationally renowned as a pop-up called Eat Me Speak Me, take-out business sold out quickly every week, but he told me things had faltered for two weeks when we communicated in mid-August. I blame it on the Dog Days. So. I urge you to lay off the DMT, put down your copy of Food of the Gods and investigate Little Bear on Instagram, @littlebearatl. (More about Stieber below.) 

!!Food porn blossoms in the pandemic, proving Freud to be intelligent …
 


Talk to any online sex-toy merchant and he’ll tell you business is booming, since everyone is regressing by necessity to the teenage joys of masturbation. Combine that with the fact that many people are, in Freud’s terms, sublimating the erotic through artistry — the artistry of cooking in the present context. In short, we are living in a perfect storm of food porn. Brian Cohn of PetLuv Cat Carrier fame demonstrates the full spectrum by serving a fab dinner to a maskless but safe lady friend. She is enjoying  “Pork Volcánes al Pastor,” tacos whose recipe he found in the March issue of Bon Appetit. The pork is shaved super-thin and flavored with lime juice and three different chilies, topped with melted Oaxaca cheese, which adds to the “lava” that gives the dish its volcanic name. Brian, the most adamantly sheltered-at-home person I know, manages to order all his cooking ingredients online without difficulty. I asked him the most difficult part of cooking in the pandemic. “Cooking for one leaves a ton of leftovers.” What has he learned? “When working with hot peppers, do not touch your eyes or private parts.”

 

!!Racism matters not when you got white pride! Grow up! Let the POC taste the icing of the privilegeds’ cake!

Is it a surprise that the $660-billion restaurant and food service industry is as contaminated with racism as the rest of the U.S. economy? Almost surreally, Susan DeRose, the owner of OK Café, smacked Atlantans in the face with that reality during, of all things, a march down West Paces Ferry organized by Buckhead4BlackLives to oppose the police murder of George Floyd. DeRose hung a banner on the restaurant that chastised Black Lives Matter with an allusion to the myth of lazy black people: “Lives that matter are made with positive purpose.” It was a shockingly thoughtless action, since she has long been controversial for decorating a wall with a supposedly arty representation of the old Georgia flag, which appropriates the image of the Confederate battle flag. She removed the banner and flag and explained it all away while seriously laying claim to “white pride.” Her actions provoked a storm of promises to boycott the café and her two other restaurants, Bones and Blue Ridge Grill, but we’ll see. Americans have a habit of backsliding into institutionalized norms of prejudice. Going deeper, we need to acknowledge that racism enforces the economic classism required by increasingly unregulated capitalism. Atlanta, like many U.S. cities, has become a prime example of the privileged sweeping the already marginalized to the city’s edges. (Be gone! Do not sully our BeltLine!) Graciously, members of enlightened corporate royalty now reverse the edict of Marie Antoinette and urge their peers to eat cake made with soul. Atlanta Magazine, for example, provides its largely white readership with a daring list of black-owned restaurants to patronize. Bless their hearts, they mean well, and the dollars handed out by tourists in the heart of darkness will help entrepreneurs a bit, but in the bigger picture, it’s a truly trivial gesture. Ending the enablement of genocide, racism, and fascism require sacrifice by the privileged themselves — not just sharing a bit of the icing of their privilege.

!!They have shattered the dinnerware and nothing is the same!
 


For the antisocial like me, the pandemic at first seemed like paradise. There was no traffic and no need to concoct excuses not to go to parties. Not so for my friends writer Brad Lapin and professor Eric Varner. For them, it brought a screeching halt to the dinner parties they host unrelentingly at their dual homes in Atlanta and Rome. Now, they compensate by cooking two meals a day for themselves, usually testing out new recipes. Recently, they prepared a Sonora-style carne asada feast detailed in the New York Times. The married couple normally dines out frequently but has only done so once, with friends, during the pandemic. Brad said that the restaurant followed all the protocols but that it was nonetheless an anxiety-provoking experience. “This fear and loathing will probably prove the single most tenacious effect of the pandemic.” So they carry on at home (also eschewing takeout). How obsessive are they? I asked Brad to name some of their pandemic faves. “Earlier this summer, Eric produced an authentic version of fettucine Alfredo that both captured the essence of the decadent dish and reestablished its Italian bonafides.” Yeah, cool, man. Did I mention they cook all the food for their four Scottish terriers? And, oh, they host international Zoom cocktail parties, and I Zoom-lunch with Brad and Brian, mentioned above, on Fridays — something I’ve done in real life for years. I love you boys.

 

!!The pandemic makes the TV dinner cool again …
 


Unlike my friends mentioned above, the pandemic has not motivated me to hone fine dining skills in the harvest-gold kitchen full of cracked tile and broken appliances of this 125-year-old home. Long ago, I liked to cook and was pretty good at it, but writing about restaurants for 30 years eventually led me to call any day I didn’t have to eat out a “Freedom from Food Day.” So, I’m going to share a dirty secret. About six years ago, I fell in love with Trader Joe’s. The grocery chain vends a huge line of frozen meals that I would never imagine myself eating. I thought they would be like the TV dinners of yore that my mother would not allow us to eat. (Yet, weirdly, the only person in my family I ever saw eat one of those was my super-wealthy uncle Steve, who otherwise introduced me to fried grasshoppers, chocolate-covered ants, and my beloved pickled lamb tongues.) And then I discovered Trader Joe’s Indian meals. Let me put it this way. One day two of us bought Indian food at a well-known food truck. Our bill, seriously, was about $65. Later in the week we ate a similar-sized meal of Trader Joe’s Indian food that cost us less than $15 for four dishes and tasted much better. Over the years, I’ve explored more of their food, and I unapologetically eat so much now that I enjoy feeling like an antifoodie. Oh, there are drawbacks — like the consumption of more salt than is needed to preserve an obese ox. But I can’t resist. In our October issue, I will go into more detail. The larger point is that the pandemic really has taught many of us that our mothers lied when they said all frozen prepared food was crap. And, hell, the store’s ginger snaps are better than my mother’s too!

 

!!Sometimes a takeout box is like a crypt …

Takeout and food-delivery operations are saving many restaurants, but answer this question, please: “What is the big drawback to takeout food?” It’s the packaging itself, of course. I’m not going to name names, but I’ve picked up simple food at favorite restaurants, taken it home, unwrapped it, and found myself confronted by a revoltingly steamy mess. It’s not like this is an entirely new phenomenon. Carrying a properly cooked Neapolitan pizza home in a closed, unventilated cardboard box typically is stupid. Eat it in the car or on the curb. Open the top first if you take it home, or, failing that, throw it in a damn blender. The weird thing is that fast-food operations clearly know a lot more about takeout packaging than many high-quality restaurants, and it’s not as if there isn’t a ton of available guidance about this. A notable local exception to the problem is the above-mentioned Little Bear. Owner Jarrett Stieber told me that his approach to cooking itself helps: “We conceptualize dishes to not just be things we think sound good but things we think sound good AND will transport well.” By that he means the food maintains flavor integrity and its gorgeous appearance. While many restaurants are packing up all their regular menu items, Stieber says that’s often unthinkable. When the restaurant was open for inside dining, for example, “we always had tartare on the menu, but we can’t be sure people will take it straight home and not let the meat warm up or sit so long the acid starts pickling it.” Perhaps Stieber can begin teaching the art of food transport. In the meantime, a really large number of foodies will continue to avoid takeout.

!!In a pandemic, the death of a server is good for a vote ...

Gov. Brian Kemp, one of the few elected officials as dumb and heartless as President Don Don, has, at this writing, reversed his ban of city health-protection mandates in an incomprehensibly garbled way that allows restaurants and other private businesses to ignore the mandates, because … well … because he doesn’t mind killing off restaurant employees if it earns him votes from the adult toddlers who believe COVID-19 is a hoax so nefarious that it hypnotizes their relatives into dying from propaganda poisoning. Fortunately, some restaurants are taking a strong stand against the mask-o-phobic. West Egg Café, for example, posted the following on Instagram:

“We asked nicely, then we begged. Masks are now required for all guests at West Egg, whenever you are not seated at your table. Period. Living in society (which includes doing things like going out to eat at restaurants) sometimes means relinquishing some of your individual liberties for the common good. Public health crises are one of those times. You do not have the ‘right’ not to wear a mask in public when exercising that ‘right’ exposes the community to communicable disease. We do have the right to exclude you from the West Egg community on the basis of refusal to wear a mask. Why’d you have to go and make us do that, though?”

Meanwhile, restaurants continue to close temporarily and permanently. A surprising number of newbies are on the way, though. As Jarrett Stieber told me, most will likely highlight well-engineered takeout and seating options, as well as smaller staffs, that make them more economically viable.

!!When a pandemic of disease is overshadowed by a pandemic of lovelessness …
 

::::

The absolute devastation of the lives of restaurant and bar employees is reflective of everything my socialist mind detests about the lie of the American dream. I won’t repeat my rant from above about the economics of racism, except to note that the groovy foodie magazine, Bon Appetit, has been exposed for inequitable payment to employees based on race. A bunch of employees have quit. They were lucky to have options. In the real world of restaurant work, where people live paycheck-to-paycheck, you can’t walk out without someplace to go. Restaurant employees who were laid off at first qualified for over $900 a week in unemployment compensation. But that was all a mess. Say you were laid off and then called back to work part-time or were only laid off part-time to begin with. Such convolutions affected what you qualified for, and now Republicans want to slash subsidies to guarantee nobody gets too comfortable driving their Cadillac without a job. Of course, if you were lucky enough to have rare employer-paid health insurance, you’ve lost that too. In any other developed country, millions of people would not be dumped into misery and, predictably, blamed for their own situation. It’s maddening that it’s necessary, but people have organized nonprofits to provide help. Chief among them in Atlanta is The Giving Kitchen. The organization, which has extended its services statewide, is grounded in a tale of love, death, and heartbreak, which you may read on their website. It provides a rare remedy to the suffering caused by the greater pandemic of lovelessness in America. Check out their story online (thegivingkitchen.org and @givingkitchen on Twitter and IG). Donate. Bigly. And ask for help.

!!Is there hope?

I have mixed feelings about hope. As American psychologist James Hillman pointed out, hope was inside Pandora’s box of evils. She snapped the lid shut before it escaped with the other evils. So, in the ancient Greeks’ thinking, hope was an evil because it frequently caused the pain of disappointed expectations and had nothing to do with actually producing happy endings. I once asked Hillman what we were left with if we couldn’t be hopeful and he talked about reflection on the beauty of what is present. Such reflection can arise with the art of cooking and dining, whether alone or with one another. You can argue that the beauty of my Trader Joe’s microwaved palak paneer fades miserably beside my friend’s exquisite fettucine Alfredo, but comparison is ultimately immaterial. Eat what pleases you, drink, help others, and be merry — but wear your damn mask, because in this plague you really may die tomorrow. —CL—

Grant Central Pizza, 451 Cherokee Ave. S.E., 404-523-8900.

Little Bear, 71-A Georgia Ave. S.E., Ste. A. 404-500-5396. @littlebearatl"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(19188) "The coronavirus pandemic has wrought complete chaos in Atlanta’s restaurant and bar community. Anything definitive I might try to say about the scene would be completely changed by the time you read this. So, my purpose here is to look at some of the general effects of the pandemic from my own and a few others’ personal perspectives. Let’s start with the particularly amazing resilience of neighborhood restaurants, without which, could turn into heartbreaking loss.

I’ve lived in Grant Park for 25 years, and during the last six of those, I’ve walked the three blocks to Grant Central Pizza alone every Wednesday. The draw is the weekly special, chicken piccata with mashed potatoes, but I’ve also formed all the attachments that make neighborhood restaurants so compelling in that “Cheers” sort of way.

Well, sort of.

!!~~black:Where nobody knows your name no more~~

Personally, I hate people, but I enjoy watching them in the way children love watching the animals in the zoo down the road. I do, however, actually love Grant Central’s staff — particularly Jessy Forney, the young front-of-the-house manager for almost eight years. I started my weekly visits soon after my life turned to shit, and, in need of distraction, I bought a television for the first time in 35 years. One day, I heard Jessy going on about some TV program. At that moment she became my TV mentor, but, over the years, she also became someone whose mind I realized was wonderfully weird and far more brilliant than she realized herself. She also operates a pet-sitting business — that business is also down — and I’ve made it my goal to get her to become a therapist specializing in emotional support animals.

Grant Central, like most neighborhood restaurants, discontinued inside dining when the pandemic arrived. It is lucky in that, as a pizzeria, it already had a great takeout business, whereas many other small neighbor-hood restaurants have been severely crippled or killed by the pandemic. Jessy, who had to let most of the staff go, now works the makeshift take-out counter that allows people to come into the restaurant for pickup as long as they wear masks and keep their distance. Now and then, someone goes Karen, particularly with the younger staff members.

She, Jessy, misses her customers as much as we miss her. “It makes me teary-eyed thinking of it,” she wrote me. “I miss things like our ‘Friday Night Crew,’ where I would get to talk to all these amazing regulars about the past week. I have regulars who would come in almost daily after hours of the trauma-infused Atlanta traffic, and we would chat about all kinds of interesting things or nothing at all. There are a lot of smiles I miss.” She also mentioned our ritual of recounting TV plots and strange dreams we had on Tuesday nights.

Generally, she copes with the loss of income and uncertainty with the help of meditation. If there’s a silver lining around, she says the sudden increase in free time has led her down a new path of self-examination. Fine, girl, but don’t go all sane on us.

!!~~black:It may be a pandemic, but we be in-a-gadda-da-vida with a little bear…~~

Takeout and patios have saved the restaurant industry. While Little Bear in Summerhill does not offer the latter, it does provide $55, multi-course takeout meals for two that are absolutely the city’s most compelling. It’s difficult to describe owner/chef Jarrett Stieber’s cuisine without sounding silly. But when I look at his food, I often recall a quote from playwright Luigi Pirandello that captioned a black light poster of a fish in a tree in my freshman dormitory room: “Life is full of infinite absurdities, which, strangely enough, do not even need to appear plausible, since they are true.” His food is culinary theater of the absurd so good it had the James Beard committee giving him a (metaphorical) standing ovation last year.

{DIV()}{BOX( bg="#66bfff" width="")}
{img fileId="32856|32854|32855" stylebox="float: left; margin-right:25px;" desc="desc" width="280px" responsive="y" button="popup"}
{BOX}{DIV}

Speaking as someone with a useless PhD in psychology, I think Stieber’s absurdism is really, really good for mental health. The pandemic, the racial strife, and the jack-o-lantern’s bid for reelection have turned our collective skull into a cauldron of bubbling ugliness. Stieber’s cooking is the contrary. It’s a melding of seemingly disparate elements into a beautiful landscape that’s going to fill you with wonder — as in “Wonderland” — instead of disgust. One recent example that Stieber “absolutely loved” was a “butternut squash salad dressed with smoked fig, yung lemongrass, aji limon chili, dried cucumber seasoning, and holy basil.” He also mentioned — I’m editing — “a fun posset dessert, a medieval cream pudding thickened by citric acid … topped with what we referred to as a ‘terrarium-like mélange of nutty choco crunch mix — pretentious flowers, mountain mint, and benne seed.” Yeah, boy.

Stieber, whom I profiled in our May issue, opened Little Bear only two weeks before restaurants were closed by mandate. Since his work was already nationally renowned as a pop-up called Eat Me Speak Me, take-out business sold out quickly every week, but he told me things had faltered for two weeks when we communicated in mid-August. I blame it on the Dog Days. So. I urge you to lay off the DMT, put down your copy of ''Food of the Gods'' and investigate Little Bear on Instagram, @littlebearatl. (More about Stieber below.) 

!!~~black:Food porn blossoms in the pandemic, proving Freud to be intelligent …~~
 

{DIV()}{img fileId="32859" stylebox="float: right; margin-left:25px;" desc="desc" width="500px" responsive="y"}{DIV}
Talk to any online sex-toy merchant and he’ll tell you business is booming, since everyone is regressing by necessity to the teenage joys of masturbation. Combine that with the fact that many people are, in Freud’s terms, sublimating the erotic through artistry — the artistry of cooking in the present context. In short, we are living in a perfect storm of food porn. Brian Cohn of PetLuv Cat Carrier fame demonstrates the full spectrum by serving a fab dinner to a maskless but safe lady friend. She is enjoying  “Pork Volcánes al Pastor,” tacos whose recipe he found in the March issue of ''Bon Appetit''. The pork is shaved super-thin and flavored with lime juice and three different chilies, topped with melted Oaxaca cheese, which adds to the “lava” that gives the dish its volcanic name. Brian, the most adamantly sheltered-at-home person I know, manages to order all his cooking ingredients online without difficulty. I asked him the most difficult part of cooking in the pandemic. “Cooking for one leaves a ton of leftovers.” What has he learned? “When working with hot peppers, do not touch your eyes or private parts.”

 

!!~~black:Racism matters not when you got white pride! Grow up! Let the POC taste the icing of the privilegeds’ cake!~~

Is it a surprise that the $660-billion restaurant and food service industry is as contaminated with racism as the rest of the U.S. economy? Almost surreally, Susan DeRose, the owner of OK Café, smacked Atlantans in the face with that reality during, of all things, a march down West Paces Ferry organized by Buckhead4BlackLives to oppose the police murder of George Floyd. DeRose hung a banner on the restaurant that chastised Black Lives Matter with an allusion to the myth of lazy black people: “Lives that matter are made with positive purpose.” It was a shockingly thoughtless action, since she has long been controversial for decorating a wall with a supposedly arty representation of the old Georgia flag, which appropriates the image of the Confederate battle flag. She removed the banner and flag and explained it all away while seriously laying claim to “white pride.” Her actions provoked a storm of promises to boycott the café and her two other restaurants, Bones and Blue Ridge Grill, but we’ll see. Americans have a habit of backsliding into institutionalized norms of prejudice. Going deeper, we need to acknowledge that racism enforces the economic classism required by increasingly unregulated capitalism. Atlanta, like many U.S. cities, has become a prime example of the privileged sweeping the already marginalized to the city’s edges. (Be gone! Do not sully our BeltLine!) Graciously, members of enlightened corporate royalty now reverse the edict of Marie Antoinette and urge their peers to eat cake made with soul. ''Atlanta'' Magazine, for example, provides its largely white readership with a daring list of black-owned restaurants to patronize. Bless their hearts, they mean well, and the dollars handed out by tourists in the heart of darkness will help entrepreneurs a bit, but in the bigger picture, it’s a truly trivial gesture. Ending the enablement of genocide, racism, and fascism require sacrifice by the privileged themselves — not just sharing a bit of the icing of their privilege.

!!~~black:They have shattered the dinnerware and nothing is the same!~~
 

{DIV()}{img fileId="32860" stylebox="float: left; margin-right:25px;" desc="desc" width="500px" responsive="y"}{DIV}
For the antisocial like me, the pandemic at first seemed like paradise. There was no traffic and no need to concoct excuses not to go to parties. Not so for my friends writer Brad Lapin and professor Eric Varner. For them, it brought a screeching halt to the dinner parties they host unrelentingly at their dual homes in Atlanta and Rome. Now, they compensate by cooking two meals a day for themselves, usually testing out new recipes. Recently, they prepared a Sonora-style carne asada feast detailed in the ''New York Times''. The married couple normally dines out frequently but has only done so once, with friends, during the pandemic. Brad said that the restaurant followed all the protocols but that it was nonetheless an anxiety-provoking experience. “This fear and loathing will probably prove the single most tenacious effect of the pandemic.” So they carry on at home (also eschewing takeout). How obsessive are they? I asked Brad to name some of their pandemic faves. “Earlier this summer, Eric produced an authentic version of fettucine Alfredo that both captured the essence of the decadent dish and reestablished its Italian bonafides.” Yeah, cool, man. Did I mention they cook all the food for their four Scottish terriers? And, oh, they host international Zoom cocktail parties, and I Zoom-lunch with Brad and Brian, mentioned above, on Fridays — something I’ve done in real life for years. I love you boys.

 

!!~~black:The pandemic makes the TV dinner cool again …~~
 

{DIV()}{img fileId="32857" stylebox="float: right; margin-left:25px;" desc="desc" width="500px" responsive="y"}{DIV}
Unlike my friends mentioned above, the pandemic has not motivated me to hone fine dining skills in the harvest-gold kitchen full of cracked tile and broken appliances of this 125-year-old home. Long ago, I liked to cook and was pretty good at it, but writing about restaurants for 30 years eventually led me to call any day I didn’t have to eat out a “Freedom from Food Day.” So, I’m going to share a dirty secret. About six years ago, I fell in love with Trader Joe’s. The grocery chain vends a huge line of frozen meals that I would never imagine myself eating. I thought they would be like the TV dinners of yore that my mother would not allow us to eat. (Yet, weirdly, the only person in my family I ever saw eat one of those was my super-wealthy uncle Steve, who otherwise introduced me to fried grasshoppers, chocolate-covered ants, and my beloved pickled lamb tongues.) And then I discovered Trader Joe’s Indian meals. Let me put it this way. One day two of us bought Indian food at a well-known food truck. Our bill, seriously, was about $65. Later in the week we ate a similar-sized meal of Trader Joe’s Indian food that cost us less than $15 for four dishes and tasted much better. Over the years, I’ve explored more of their food, and I unapologetically eat so much now that I enjoy feeling like an antifoodie. Oh, there are drawbacks — like the consumption of more salt than is needed to preserve an obese ox. But I can’t resist. In our October issue, I will go into more detail. The larger point is that the pandemic really has taught many of us that our mothers lied when they said all frozen prepared food was crap. And, hell, the store’s ginger snaps are better than my mother’s too!

 

!!~~black:Sometimes a takeout box is like a crypt …~~

Takeout and food-delivery operations are saving many restaurants, but answer this question, please: “What is the big drawback to takeout food?” It’s the packaging itself, of course. I’m not going to name names, but I’ve picked up simple food at favorite restaurants, taken it home, unwrapped it, and found myself confronted by a revoltingly steamy mess. It’s not like this is an entirely new phenomenon. Carrying a properly cooked Neapolitan pizza home in a closed, unventilated cardboard box typically is stupid. Eat it in the car or on the curb. Open the top first if you take it home, or, failing that, throw it in a damn blender. The weird thing is that fast-food operations clearly know a lot more about takeout packaging than many high-quality restaurants, and it’s not as if there isn’t a ton of available guidance about this. A notable local exception to the problem is the above-mentioned Little Bear. Owner Jarrett Stieber told me that his approach to cooking itself helps: “We conceptualize dishes to not just be things we think sound good but things we think sound good AND will transport well.” By that he means the food maintains flavor integrity and its gorgeous appearance. While many restaurants are packing up all their regular menu items, Stieber says that’s often unthinkable. When the restaurant was open for inside dining, for example, “we always had tartare on the menu, but we can’t be sure people will take it straight home and not let the meat warm up or sit so long the acid starts pickling it.” Perhaps Stieber can begin teaching the art of food transport. In the meantime, a really large number of foodies will continue to avoid takeout.

!!~~black:In a pandemic, the death of a server is good for a vote ...~~

Gov. Brian Kemp, one of the few elected officials as dumb and heartless as President Don Don, has, at this writing, reversed his ban of city health-protection mandates in an incomprehensibly garbled way that allows restaurants and other private businesses to ignore the mandates, because … well … because he doesn’t mind killing off restaurant employees if it earns him votes from the adult toddlers who believe COVID-19 is a hoax so nefarious that it hypnotizes their relatives into dying from propaganda poisoning. Fortunately, some restaurants are taking a strong stand against the mask-o-phobic. West Egg Café, for example, posted the following on Instagram:

“We asked nicely, then we begged. Masks are now required for all guests at West Egg, whenever you are not seated at your table. Period. Living in society (which includes doing things like going out to eat at restaurants) sometimes means relinquishing some of your individual liberties for the common good. Public health crises are one of those times. You do not have the ‘right’ not to wear a mask in public when exercising that ‘right’ exposes the community to communicable disease. We do have the right to exclude you from the West Egg community on the basis of refusal to wear a mask. Why’d you have to go and make us do that, though?”

Meanwhile, restaurants continue to close temporarily and permanently. A surprising number of newbies are on the way, though. As Jarrett Stieber told me, most will likely highlight well-engineered takeout and seating options, as well as smaller staffs, that make them more economically viable.

!!~~black:When a pandemic of disease is overshadowed by a pandemic of lovelessness …~~
 

::{img fileId="32861" desc="desc" responsive="y"}::

The absolute devastation of the lives of restaurant and bar employees is reflective of everything my socialist mind detests about the lie of the American dream. I won’t repeat my rant from above about the economics of racism, except to note that the groovy foodie magazine, ''Bon Appetit'', has been exposed for inequitable payment to employees based on race. A bunch of employees have quit. They were lucky to have options. In the real world of restaurant work, where people live paycheck-to-paycheck, you can’t walk out without someplace to go. Restaurant employees who were laid off at first qualified for over $900 a week in unemployment compensation. But that was all a mess. Say you were laid off and then called back to work part-time or were only laid off part-time to begin with. Such convolutions affected what you qualified for, and now Republicans want to slash subsidies to guarantee nobody gets too comfortable driving their Cadillac without a job. Of course, if you were lucky enough to have rare employer-paid health insurance, you’ve lost that too. In any other developed country, millions of people would not be dumped into misery and, predictably, blamed for their own situation. It’s maddening that it’s necessary, but people have organized nonprofits to provide help. Chief among them in Atlanta is The Giving Kitchen. The organization, which has extended its services statewide, is grounded in a tale of love, death, and heartbreak, which you may read on their website. It provides a rare remedy to the suffering caused by the greater pandemic of lovelessness in America. Check out their story online (thegivingkitchen.org and @givingkitchen on Twitter and IG). Donate. Bigly. And ask for help.

!!~~black:Is there hope?~~

I have mixed feelings about hope. As American psychologist James Hillman pointed out, hope was inside Pandora’s box of evils. She snapped the lid shut before it escaped with the other evils. So, in the ancient Greeks’ thinking, hope was an evil because it frequently caused the pain of disappointed expectations and had nothing to do with actually producing happy endings. I once asked Hillman what we were left with if we couldn’t be hopeful and he talked about reflection on the beauty of what is present. Such reflection can arise with the art of cooking and dining, whether alone or with one another. You can argue that the beauty of my Trader Joe’s microwaved palak paneer fades miserably beside my friend’s exquisite fettucine Alfredo, but comparison is ultimately immaterial. Eat what pleases you, drink, help others, and be merry — but wear your damn mask, because in this plague you really may die tomorrow. __—CL—__

''Grant Central Pizza, 451 Cherokee Ave. S.E., 404-523-8900.''

''Little Bear, 71-A Georgia Ave. S.E., Ste. A. 404-500-5396. @littlebearatl''"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-09-09T14:04:49+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-09-09T16:21:54+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_freshness_days"]=>
  int(616)
  ["tracker_field_photos"]=>
  string(5) "32858"
  ["tracker_field_photos_names"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(21) "Web Lede Grazing Sept"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filenames"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(25) "Web_Lede_Grazing_Sept.jpg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filetypes"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "image/jpeg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_text"]=>
  string(21) "Web Lede Grazing Sept"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoCredit"]=>
  string(42) "(L)Courtesy Jesse Forney, (R)Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoTitle"]=>
  string(70) "(L)GRANT CENTRAL PIZZA: Jessy Forney. (R)LITTLE BEAR: Jarrett Stieber."
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "245"
    [1]=>
    string(3) "620"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(7) "245 620"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_names"]=>
  string(14) "Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_paths"]=>
  string(23) "Content::Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentLocation"]=>
  string(6) "0,0,10"
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages"]=>
  string(33) "wiki page:cl issue september 2020"
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(33) "wiki page:cl issue september 2020"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_plain"]=>
  string(23) "cl issue september 2020"
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_text"]=>
  string(23) "cl issue september 2020"
  ["tracker_field_contentMiscCategories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(4) "1297"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentMiscCategories_text"]=>
  string(4) "1297"
  ["tracker_field_contentMiscCategories_names"]=>
  string(8) "Featured"
  ["tracker_field_contentMiscCategories_paths"]=>
  string(25) "Misc Categories::Featured"
  ["tracker_field_contentFreeTags"]=>
  string(7) "grazing"
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "749"
    [1]=>
    string(4) "1362"
    [2]=>
    string(4) "1302"
  }
  ["tracker_field_section_text"]=>
  string(13) "749 1362 1302"
  ["tracker_field_section_names"]=>
  string(26) "Food Portal, Issue 2, 2020"
  ["tracker_field_section_paths"]=>
  string(89) "Section::Portals::Food Portal, Section::Print Issue::Issue 2, Section::Print Volume::2020"
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "32858"
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(7) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
    [1]=>
    int(620)
    [2]=>
    int(749)
    [3]=>
    int(1297)
    [4]=>
    int(1302)
    [5]=>
    int(1362)
    [6]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(17) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(245)
    [2]=>
    int(1182)
    [3]=>
    int(1477)
    [4]=>
    int(621)
    [5]=>
    int(620)
    [6]=>
    int(743)
    [7]=>
    int(749)
    [8]=>
    int(996)
    [9]=>
    int(1297)
    [10]=>
    int(1301)
    [11]=>
    int(1302)
    [12]=>
    int(1323)
    [13]=>
    int(1362)
    [14]=>
    int(28)
    [15]=>
    int(988)
    [16]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(988)
    [1]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(9) {
    [0]=>
    int(1477)
    [1]=>
    int(621)
    [2]=>
    int(620)
    [3]=>
    int(743)
    [4]=>
    int(749)
    [5]=>
    int(1301)
    [6]=>
    int(1302)
    [7]=>
    int(1323)
    [8]=>
    int(1362)
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "471"
  }
  ["freetags_text"]=>
  string(7) "grazing"
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["user_groups"]=>
  array(9) {
    [0]=>
    string(22) "Product Representative"
    [1]=>
    string(12) "Wiki Editors"
    [2]=>
    string(17) "CL Correspondents"
    [3]=>
    string(20) "Event Representative"
    [4]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [5]=>
    string(10) "CL Editors"
    [6]=>
    string(27) "Organization Representative"
    [7]=>
    string(18) "Account Executives"
    [8]=>
    string(7) "Artists"
  }
  ["user_followers"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "jonny"
    [1]=>
    string(14) "thevinylwarhol"
  }
  ["like_list"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    string(27) "tiki.file.attach:file:32858"
    [1]=>
    string(53) "items.related.pages:wiki page:cl issue september 2020"
    [2]=>
    string(119) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:wiki page:Content:_:GRAZING: Ten ways COVID-19 has changed the foodie experience in Atlanta"
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    string(16) "tiki.file.attach"
    [1]=>
    string(19) "items.related.pages"
    [2]=>
    string(27) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert"
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    string(18) "tiki.file.attach:1"
    [1]=>
    string(21) "items.related.pages:1"
    [2]=>
    string(29) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:1"
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "G"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(7) "GRAZING"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item475818"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "475818"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(19243) " Web Lede Grazing Sept (LEFT)GRANT CENTRAL PIZZA: Jessy Forney. Photo credit: Courtesy Jesse Forney. (RIGHT)LITTLE BEAR: Jarrett Stieber. Photo credit: Cliff Bostock. 2020-09-09T14:47:03+00:00 Web_Lede_Grazing_Sept.jpg     grazing During the pandemic, treat yourself to dinner and yourself Web Lede Grazing Sept   2020-09-09T13:49:42+00:00  GRAZING: Ten ways COVID-19 has changed the foodie experience in Atlanta jim.harris Jim Harris Cliff Bostock cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock) 2020-09-09T13:49:42+00:00 The coronavirus pandemic has wrought complete chaos in Atlanta’s restaurant and bar community. Anything definitive I might try to say about the scene would be completely changed by the time you read this. So, my purpose here is to look at some of the general effects of the pandemic from my own and a few others’ personal perspectives. Let’s start with the particularly amazing resilience of neighborhood restaurants, without which, could turn into heartbreaking loss.

I’ve lived in Grant Park for 25 years, and during the last six of those, I’ve walked the three blocks to Grant Central Pizza alone every Wednesday. The draw is the weekly special, chicken piccata with mashed potatoes, but I’ve also formed all the attachments that make neighborhood restaurants so compelling in that “Cheers” sort of way.

Well, sort of.

!!Where nobody knows your name no more

Personally, I hate people, but I enjoy watching them in the way children love watching the animals in the zoo down the road. I do, however, actually love Grant Central’s staff — particularly Jessy Forney, the young front-of-the-house manager for almost eight years. I started my weekly visits soon after my life turned to shit, and, in need of distraction, I bought a television for the first time in 35 years. One day, I heard Jessy going on about some TV program. At that moment she became my TV mentor, but, over the years, she also became someone whose mind I realized was wonderfully weird and far more brilliant than she realized herself. She also operates a pet-sitting business — that business is also down — and I’ve made it my goal to get her to become a therapist specializing in emotional support animals.

Grant Central, like most neighborhood restaurants, discontinued inside dining when the pandemic arrived. It is lucky in that, as a pizzeria, it already had a great takeout business, whereas many other small neighbor-hood restaurants have been severely crippled or killed by the pandemic. Jessy, who had to let most of the staff go, now works the makeshift take-out counter that allows people to come into the restaurant for pickup as long as they wear masks and keep their distance. Now and then, someone goes Karen, particularly with the younger staff members.

She, Jessy, misses her customers as much as we miss her. “It makes me teary-eyed thinking of it,” she wrote me. “I miss things like our ‘Friday Night Crew,’ where I would get to talk to all these amazing regulars about the past week. I have regulars who would come in almost daily after hours of the trauma-infused Atlanta traffic, and we would chat about all kinds of interesting things or nothing at all. There are a lot of smiles I miss.” She also mentioned our ritual of recounting TV plots and strange dreams we had on Tuesday nights.

Generally, she copes with the loss of income and uncertainty with the help of meditation. If there’s a silver lining around, she says the sudden increase in free time has led her down a new path of self-examination. Fine, girl, but don’t go all sane on us.

!!It may be a pandemic, but we be in-a-gadda-da-vida with a little bear…

Takeout and patios have saved the restaurant industry. While Little Bear in Summerhill does not offer the latter, it does provide $55, multi-course takeout meals for two that are absolutely the city’s most compelling. It’s difficult to describe owner/chef Jarrett Stieber’s cuisine without sounding silly. But when I look at his food, I often recall a quote from playwright Luigi Pirandello that captioned a black light poster of a fish in a tree in my freshman dormitory room: “Life is full of infinite absurdities, which, strangely enough, do not even need to appear plausible, since they are true.” His food is culinary theater of the absurd so good it had the James Beard committee giving him a (metaphorical) standing ovation last year.



Speaking as someone with a useless PhD in psychology, I think Stieber’s absurdism is really, really good for mental health. The pandemic, the racial strife, and the jack-o-lantern’s bid for reelection have turned our collective skull into a cauldron of bubbling ugliness. Stieber’s cooking is the contrary. It’s a melding of seemingly disparate elements into a beautiful landscape that’s going to fill you with wonder — as in “Wonderland” — instead of disgust. One recent example that Stieber “absolutely loved” was a “butternut squash salad dressed with smoked fig, yung lemongrass, aji limon chili, dried cucumber seasoning, and holy basil.” He also mentioned — I’m editing — “a fun posset dessert, a medieval cream pudding thickened by citric acid … topped with what we referred to as a ‘terrarium-like mélange of nutty choco crunch mix — pretentious flowers, mountain mint, and benne seed.” Yeah, boy.

Stieber, whom I profiled in our May issue, opened Little Bear only two weeks before restaurants were closed by mandate. Since his work was already nationally renowned as a pop-up called Eat Me Speak Me, take-out business sold out quickly every week, but he told me things had faltered for two weeks when we communicated in mid-August. I blame it on the Dog Days. So. I urge you to lay off the DMT, put down your copy of Food of the Gods and investigate Little Bear on Instagram, @littlebearatl. (More about Stieber below.) 

!!Food porn blossoms in the pandemic, proving Freud to be intelligent …
 


Talk to any online sex-toy merchant and he’ll tell you business is booming, since everyone is regressing by necessity to the teenage joys of masturbation. Combine that with the fact that many people are, in Freud’s terms, sublimating the erotic through artistry — the artistry of cooking in the present context. In short, we are living in a perfect storm of food porn. Brian Cohn of PetLuv Cat Carrier fame demonstrates the full spectrum by serving a fab dinner to a maskless but safe lady friend. She is enjoying  “Pork Volcánes al Pastor,” tacos whose recipe he found in the March issue of Bon Appetit. The pork is shaved super-thin and flavored with lime juice and three different chilies, topped with melted Oaxaca cheese, which adds to the “lava” that gives the dish its volcanic name. Brian, the most adamantly sheltered-at-home person I know, manages to order all his cooking ingredients online without difficulty. I asked him the most difficult part of cooking in the pandemic. “Cooking for one leaves a ton of leftovers.” What has he learned? “When working with hot peppers, do not touch your eyes or private parts.”

 

!!Racism matters not when you got white pride! Grow up! Let the POC taste the icing of the privilegeds’ cake!

Is it a surprise that the $660-billion restaurant and food service industry is as contaminated with racism as the rest of the U.S. economy? Almost surreally, Susan DeRose, the owner of OK Café, smacked Atlantans in the face with that reality during, of all things, a march down West Paces Ferry organized by Buckhead4BlackLives to oppose the police murder of George Floyd. DeRose hung a banner on the restaurant that chastised Black Lives Matter with an allusion to the myth of lazy black people: “Lives that matter are made with positive purpose.” It was a shockingly thoughtless action, since she has long been controversial for decorating a wall with a supposedly arty representation of the old Georgia flag, which appropriates the image of the Confederate battle flag. She removed the banner and flag and explained it all away while seriously laying claim to “white pride.” Her actions provoked a storm of promises to boycott the café and her two other restaurants, Bones and Blue Ridge Grill, but we’ll see. Americans have a habit of backsliding into institutionalized norms of prejudice. Going deeper, we need to acknowledge that racism enforces the economic classism required by increasingly unregulated capitalism. Atlanta, like many U.S. cities, has become a prime example of the privileged sweeping the already marginalized to the city’s edges. (Be gone! Do not sully our BeltLine!) Graciously, members of enlightened corporate royalty now reverse the edict of Marie Antoinette and urge their peers to eat cake made with soul. Atlanta Magazine, for example, provides its largely white readership with a daring list of black-owned restaurants to patronize. Bless their hearts, they mean well, and the dollars handed out by tourists in the heart of darkness will help entrepreneurs a bit, but in the bigger picture, it’s a truly trivial gesture. Ending the enablement of genocide, racism, and fascism require sacrifice by the privileged themselves — not just sharing a bit of the icing of their privilege.

!!They have shattered the dinnerware and nothing is the same!
 


For the antisocial like me, the pandemic at first seemed like paradise. There was no traffic and no need to concoct excuses not to go to parties. Not so for my friends writer Brad Lapin and professor Eric Varner. For them, it brought a screeching halt to the dinner parties they host unrelentingly at their dual homes in Atlanta and Rome. Now, they compensate by cooking two meals a day for themselves, usually testing out new recipes. Recently, they prepared a Sonora-style carne asada feast detailed in the New York Times. The married couple normally dines out frequently but has only done so once, with friends, during the pandemic. Brad said that the restaurant followed all the protocols but that it was nonetheless an anxiety-provoking experience. “This fear and loathing will probably prove the single most tenacious effect of the pandemic.” So they carry on at home (also eschewing takeout). How obsessive are they? I asked Brad to name some of their pandemic faves. “Earlier this summer, Eric produced an authentic version of fettucine Alfredo that both captured the essence of the decadent dish and reestablished its Italian bonafides.” Yeah, cool, man. Did I mention they cook all the food for their four Scottish terriers? And, oh, they host international Zoom cocktail parties, and I Zoom-lunch with Brad and Brian, mentioned above, on Fridays — something I’ve done in real life for years. I love you boys.

 

!!The pandemic makes the TV dinner cool again …
 


Unlike my friends mentioned above, the pandemic has not motivated me to hone fine dining skills in the harvest-gold kitchen full of cracked tile and broken appliances of this 125-year-old home. Long ago, I liked to cook and was pretty good at it, but writing about restaurants for 30 years eventually led me to call any day I didn’t have to eat out a “Freedom from Food Day.” So, I’m going to share a dirty secret. About six years ago, I fell in love with Trader Joe’s. The grocery chain vends a huge line of frozen meals that I would never imagine myself eating. I thought they would be like the TV dinners of yore that my mother would not allow us to eat. (Yet, weirdly, the only person in my family I ever saw eat one of those was my super-wealthy uncle Steve, who otherwise introduced me to fried grasshoppers, chocolate-covered ants, and my beloved pickled lamb tongues.) And then I discovered Trader Joe’s Indian meals. Let me put it this way. One day two of us bought Indian food at a well-known food truck. Our bill, seriously, was about $65. Later in the week we ate a similar-sized meal of Trader Joe’s Indian food that cost us less than $15 for four dishes and tasted much better. Over the years, I’ve explored more of their food, and I unapologetically eat so much now that I enjoy feeling like an antifoodie. Oh, there are drawbacks — like the consumption of more salt than is needed to preserve an obese ox. But I can’t resist. In our October issue, I will go into more detail. The larger point is that the pandemic really has taught many of us that our mothers lied when they said all frozen prepared food was crap. And, hell, the store’s ginger snaps are better than my mother’s too!

 

!!Sometimes a takeout box is like a crypt …

Takeout and food-delivery operations are saving many restaurants, but answer this question, please: “What is the big drawback to takeout food?” It’s the packaging itself, of course. I’m not going to name names, but I’ve picked up simple food at favorite restaurants, taken it home, unwrapped it, and found myself confronted by a revoltingly steamy mess. It’s not like this is an entirely new phenomenon. Carrying a properly cooked Neapolitan pizza home in a closed, unventilated cardboard box typically is stupid. Eat it in the car or on the curb. Open the top first if you take it home, or, failing that, throw it in a damn blender. The weird thing is that fast-food operations clearly know a lot more about takeout packaging than many high-quality restaurants, and it’s not as if there isn’t a ton of available guidance about this. A notable local exception to the problem is the above-mentioned Little Bear. Owner Jarrett Stieber told me that his approach to cooking itself helps: “We conceptualize dishes to not just be things we think sound good but things we think sound good AND will transport well.” By that he means the food maintains flavor integrity and its gorgeous appearance. While many restaurants are packing up all their regular menu items, Stieber says that’s often unthinkable. When the restaurant was open for inside dining, for example, “we always had tartare on the menu, but we can’t be sure people will take it straight home and not let the meat warm up or sit so long the acid starts pickling it.” Perhaps Stieber can begin teaching the art of food transport. In the meantime, a really large number of foodies will continue to avoid takeout.

!!In a pandemic, the death of a server is good for a vote ...

Gov. Brian Kemp, one of the few elected officials as dumb and heartless as President Don Don, has, at this writing, reversed his ban of city health-protection mandates in an incomprehensibly garbled way that allows restaurants and other private businesses to ignore the mandates, because … well … because he doesn’t mind killing off restaurant employees if it earns him votes from the adult toddlers who believe COVID-19 is a hoax so nefarious that it hypnotizes their relatives into dying from propaganda poisoning. Fortunately, some restaurants are taking a strong stand against the mask-o-phobic. West Egg Café, for example, posted the following on Instagram:

“We asked nicely, then we begged. Masks are now required for all guests at West Egg, whenever you are not seated at your table. Period. Living in society (which includes doing things like going out to eat at restaurants) sometimes means relinquishing some of your individual liberties for the common good. Public health crises are one of those times. You do not have the ‘right’ not to wear a mask in public when exercising that ‘right’ exposes the community to communicable disease. We do have the right to exclude you from the West Egg community on the basis of refusal to wear a mask. Why’d you have to go and make us do that, though?”

Meanwhile, restaurants continue to close temporarily and permanently. A surprising number of newbies are on the way, though. As Jarrett Stieber told me, most will likely highlight well-engineered takeout and seating options, as well as smaller staffs, that make them more economically viable.

!!When a pandemic of disease is overshadowed by a pandemic of lovelessness …
 

::::

The absolute devastation of the lives of restaurant and bar employees is reflective of everything my socialist mind detests about the lie of the American dream. I won’t repeat my rant from above about the economics of racism, except to note that the groovy foodie magazine, Bon Appetit, has been exposed for inequitable payment to employees based on race. A bunch of employees have quit. They were lucky to have options. In the real world of restaurant work, where people live paycheck-to-paycheck, you can’t walk out without someplace to go. Restaurant employees who were laid off at first qualified for over $900 a week in unemployment compensation. But that was all a mess. Say you were laid off and then called back to work part-time or were only laid off part-time to begin with. Such convolutions affected what you qualified for, and now Republicans want to slash subsidies to guarantee nobody gets too comfortable driving their Cadillac without a job. Of course, if you were lucky enough to have rare employer-paid health insurance, you’ve lost that too. In any other developed country, millions of people would not be dumped into misery and, predictably, blamed for their own situation. It’s maddening that it’s necessary, but people have organized nonprofits to provide help. Chief among them in Atlanta is The Giving Kitchen. The organization, which has extended its services statewide, is grounded in a tale of love, death, and heartbreak, which you may read on their website. It provides a rare remedy to the suffering caused by the greater pandemic of lovelessness in America. Check out their story online (thegivingkitchen.org and @givingkitchen on Twitter and IG). Donate. Bigly. And ask for help.

!!Is there hope?

I have mixed feelings about hope. As American psychologist James Hillman pointed out, hope was inside Pandora’s box of evils. She snapped the lid shut before it escaped with the other evils. So, in the ancient Greeks’ thinking, hope was an evil because it frequently caused the pain of disappointed expectations and had nothing to do with actually producing happy endings. I once asked Hillman what we were left with if we couldn’t be hopeful and he talked about reflection on the beauty of what is present. Such reflection can arise with the art of cooking and dining, whether alone or with one another. You can argue that the beauty of my Trader Joe’s microwaved palak paneer fades miserably beside my friend’s exquisite fettucine Alfredo, but comparison is ultimately immaterial. Eat what pleases you, drink, help others, and be merry — but wear your damn mask, because in this plague you really may die tomorrow. —CL—

Grant Central Pizza, 451 Cherokee Ave. S.E., 404-523-8900.

Little Bear, 71-A Georgia Ave. S.E., Ste. A. 404-500-5396. @littlebearatl    (L)Courtesy Jesse Forney, (R)Cliff Bostock (L)GRANT CENTRAL PIZZA: Jessy Forney. (R)LITTLE BEAR: Jarrett Stieber.  0,0,10   cl issue september 2020 grazing                       GRAZING: Ten ways COVID-19 has changed the foodie experience in Atlanta "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(35) "atlantawiki_tiki_main_6285dce1d165e"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(249) " GRAZING: Ten ways COVID-19 has changed the foodie experience in Atlanta"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(261) "

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(67) "During the pandemic, treat yourself to dinner and yourself"
  ["eventDate"]=>
  string(67) "During the pandemic, treat yourself to dinner and yourself"
  ["noads"]=>
  string(10) "y"
}

array(104) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(79) "GRAZING: Grana and Delbar provide two new opportunities for patio plague dining"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2021-01-08T00:07:31+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-08-05T20:48:32+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "ben.eason"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-08-05T20:44:22+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["parent_object_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["parent_object_type"]=>
  string(7) "tracker"
  ["field_permissions"]=>
  string(2) "[]"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(79) "GRAZING: Grana and Delbar provide two new opportunities for patio plague dining"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator"]=>
  string(10) "jim.harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_text"]=>
  string(10) "Jim Harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_unstemmed"]=>
  string(10) "jim harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "476087"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(33) "cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock)"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2020-08-05T20:44:22+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(89) "Content:_:GRAZING: Grana and Delbar provide two new opportunities for patio plague dining"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(9254) "It was mid-July and I had not eaten in a restaurant in four months — not even outdoors. The idea was terrifying. I imagined people huddled on crowded patios, inhaling and exhaling the coronavirus like smoke in a hookah lounge. They would all be 23 and drunk, flaunting their dolphinlike lungs and uncreased skin, or they would be escapees from nursing homes blowing kisses through fingers coated with mucous.

Finally, though, more reasonable friends and desperation for something to write about convinced me to visit two restaurant patios. And, to my surprise, my anxiety did not become the panic attack I expected. I don’t have too many illusions about this. I know that COVID-19’s infection rate is “soaring” and “surging” — the media love those words — so that, once again, fewer people are entering public space. Don’t regard what follows as a real-time account of anything more than the food at these places based on single visits. At this writing, both restaurants have menus for dining in and taking out. You should call ahead, because the pandemic comes with scheduling pandemonium.

First up was Grana, a newish Italian restaurant that opened just in time for La Corona in mid-March on Piedmont Avenue, near Cheshire Bridge. It is owned by the exceedingly talented Pat Pascarella, who owned a renowned restaurant in Connecticut and moved here, where he became executive chef at the Optimist, arguably the city’s best seafood destination. Last year, he opened the White Bull in Decatur. It draws on Pascarella’s Italian heritage, but is mainly a playful farm-to-table venue heavy on veggies. Its name pays homage to Ernest Hemingway, who romanticized himself as a writerly matador. He referred to the blank page as his white bull, his challenge to dance with an overwhelming onslaught of words until he found the perfect textual moves and slayed the beast of mediocrity with his pen. It’s not a bad metaphor for the chef’s challenge to shape seasonal harvests from local farms and create something masterful. Pascarella succeeds at that at the White Bull.

Much of the same ethos prevails at Grana, but the menu is explicitly and classically Italian. Like every Italian chef in America, Pascarella attributes his tastes and skills to his mother and grandmother, who mastered the classics of southern Italy. The menu is divided into seven sections: bread, mozzarella plates, meatballs, pasta, entrees, vegetables, and Neapolitan-style pizzas. There seriously wasn’t anything on the menu that I wouldn’t love to try, but two of us couldn’t even finish the four dishes we ordered. Prepare for leftovers.

I knew that I was not going to pass up the fig pizza, one of my favorites, and this was by far the best I’ve had in years. Besides fat slices of ripe figs, the charred pie was topped with ricotta cheese and speck. Vincotto added a slightly sweet note that toyed with peppery arugula profusely scattered on the pie after it was taken from one of the two wood-fire ovens. I have to admit I did encounter an odd note of anchovies now and then. My companion didn’t, so I don’t know if this was my super-sensitive nose inhaling something from the lone table at the other end of the patio or what. As it happens, we did order a pasta dish that included anchovies but it did not arrive until well after the pizza.

The pasta was a classic, paccheri alla Norma — a Neapolitan favorite of rather chunky tubes of hollow pasta in a pomodoro sauce with anchovies, ricotta, and eggplant. It hit the spot but went way over the top with the pizza. The five other pastas are also classics, including pappardelle with a pork ragu and pecorino cheese, ricotta ravioli, and corn agnolotti. There are five equally classic entrees — two chicken dishes, wood-roasted branzino, and porchetta, which I’m anxious to try.

I didn’t get to choose the meatballs we ordered, so my companion selected a savory serving of three meatballs in a tomato/mostarda sauce with currants. They were terrific, but why the hell didn’t he order the beef ones with gouda, red onion, and black truffle jam? Our fourth dish was by far the most dramatic. In fact, when it arrived at the table I immediately thought of the Wicked Witch of the West, hurling fire balls from her broom while Dorothy proceeded to Oz. It was roasted ears of corn whose singed leaves were pulled back in a mad whirl. The corn itself was not particularly notable until you slathered it in the lemon aioli and Calabrian peppers on which the dramatic broom piece sat. Seven other vegetable dishes were available and, congruent with the White Bull menu, they were the menu’s most compelling dishes to me. Well, they may have tied with the five mozzarella plates. I really wanted the burrata with prosciutto, peaches, and bread sticks. Maybe next time. And maybe I’ll get a cannoli too.



I did go inside the large restaurant for a quick tour in my low-fashion mask, and the place was smart but lonely. Only two tables were occupied. The capacious dining room includes a mezzanine, which seems to be an architectural thing with restaurants these days. There’s also a long bar and a very open kitchen. Besides the tiny patio out front, there’s also rooftop dining. Both come with plenty of oxygen. The staff is well educated about the menu, and our server had mastered the art of clear articulation while facially mummified. Give it a try.

My second experiment with patio dining during the plague was a visit to Delbar, a new Persian restaurant off North Highland. The name means “soulmate” or “true love” in Farsi, one of the most beautiful languages on the planet. If I had to name a psychedelic moment that involved no ingestion of psychedelics, it would be the afternoon in grad school I listened to an Iranian woman read the 13th-century Persian poet Rumi in Farsi. I told this story to my masked server, Radman, an Iranian student studying at Georgia State. We talked about how much more complex Persian culture is than its media representation. He visits often to see family in Tehran.

That being his experience, the restaurant’s owner/chef, Fares Kargar, told “What Now Atlanta” that he left Iran for Turkey as a refugee when he was 17. He soon migrated to Atlanta to study hospitality and, for a while, worked at Rumi’s Kitchen. Delbar is an ambitious project, not helped by opening during the pandemic. The bright, multilevel interior is huge and intriguing, probably reflective of Kargar’s call to architecture before he discovered the restaurant industry. Just like Pascarella at Grana, he says the menu is inspired by the food his family’s women cooked.

The patio at Delbar is small, and when a thunderstorm forced me inside, I sat at the otherwise empty bar (wondering if the friendly, masked bartender was a viral sponge). I was eating alone, so I didn’t get to taste much of the menu. I ordered two dishes with which I had some familiarity. The main one was a Cornish hen coated in saffron and deep-fried whole in butter. You tear the bird apart with your hands and drag the meat through one serving of more melted butter and another of Iran’s signature pomegranate sauce. The flavors verged on decadent, but in truth the bird’s white meat was so dry that even an extra-long bath in the sauces was inadequate to add much moisture. I also ordered a plate of the traditional adas polo, a huge plate of saffron basmati rice with lentils and raisins. Traditionally the outer coat of the rice, topped with fried onions, is a bit crispy, but Delbar’s not so much. Here’s the thing, though. I took the leftovers home, tore the flesh from the bird, let it soak in some melted butter, sat it on the rice, then anointed it with pomegranate sauce. The result was much more appetizing. The crowded plating at the restaurant actually made doing this impossible. The rice was truly enough for more than two people, so order it with one of the mezzes, like “sour orange” prawns. Or make a meal of the mezzes, which also include falafel and spreads like hummus and labneh. Be aware, too, that every meal comes with a truly wonderful starter of charred, chewy flatbread with radishes, walnuts, an unusually good feta-type cheese, and herbs. Fold the mint and tarragon into pieces of the bread along with the cheese.

I did take a second meal home for the over-worked CDC scientist with whom I live, and I’m tempted to say it was better than my own, although I barely got a taste. He got a whole, silvery trout with walnuts, herbs, and pomegranate. He also got an order of the fried-eggplant spread with onion, mint, and cream of whey. He raved. Then he returned to the plague.

This may be the first Persian restaurant I’ve visited where I didn’t order lamb, but there are three dishes on the menu — a stew, chops, and shwarma. There are also kabobs, vegetables, and three rice dishes besides the one I ordered. A few adjustments will make the restaurant a favorite destination for lovers of Middle Eastern cuisine. —CL—

Grana, 1835 Piedmont Ave. N.E. 404-231-9000, granaatl.com, @granaatl.

Delbar, 870 Inman Village Parkway N.E., Suite 1, 404-500-1444, delbaratl.com, @delbaratl."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(9674) "It was mid-July and I had not eaten in a restaurant in four months — not even outdoors. The idea was terrifying. I imagined people huddled on crowded patios, inhaling and exhaling the coronavirus like smoke in a hookah lounge. They would all be 23 and drunk, flaunting their dolphinlike lungs and uncreased skin, or they would be escapees from nursing homes blowing kisses through fingers coated with mucous.

Finally, though, more reasonable friends and desperation for something to write about convinced me to visit two restaurant patios. And, to my surprise, my anxiety did not become the panic attack I expected. I don’t have too many illusions about this. I know that COVID-19’s infection rate is “soaring” and “surging” — the media love those words — so that, once again, fewer people are entering public space. Don’t regard what follows as a real-time account of anything more than the food at these places based on single visits. At this writing, both restaurants have menus for dining in and taking out. You should call ahead, because the pandemic comes with scheduling pandemonium.

First up was Grana, a newish Italian restaurant that opened just in time for La Corona in mid-March on Piedmont Avenue, near Cheshire Bridge. It is owned by the exceedingly talented Pat Pascarella, who owned a renowned restaurant in Connecticut and moved here, where he became executive chef at the Optimist, arguably the city’s best seafood destination. Last year, he opened the White Bull in Decatur. It draws on Pascarella’s Italian heritage, but is mainly a playful farm-to-table venue heavy on veggies. Its name pays homage to Ernest Hemingway, who romanticized himself as a writerly matador. He referred to the blank page as his white bull, his challenge to dance with an overwhelming onslaught of words until he found the perfect textual moves and slayed the beast of mediocrity with his pen. It’s not a bad metaphor for the chef’s challenge to shape seasonal harvests from local farms and create something masterful. Pascarella succeeds at that at the White Bull.

Much of the same ethos prevails at Grana, but the menu is explicitly and classically Italian. Like every Italian chef in America, Pascarella attributes his tastes and skills to his mother and grandmother, who mastered the classics of southern Italy. The menu is divided into seven sections: bread, mozzarella plates, meatballs, pasta, entrees, vegetables, and Neapolitan-style pizzas. There seriously wasn’t anything on the menu that I wouldn’t love to try, but two of us couldn’t even finish the four dishes we ordered. Prepare for leftovers.

I knew that I was not going to pass up the fig pizza, one of my favorites, and this was by far the best I’ve had in years. Besides fat slices of ripe figs, the charred pie was topped with ricotta cheese and speck. Vincotto added a slightly sweet note that toyed with peppery arugula profusely scattered on the pie after it was taken from one of the two wood-fire ovens. I have to admit I did encounter an odd note of anchovies now and then. My companion didn’t, so I don’t know if this was my super-sensitive nose inhaling something from the lone table at the other end of the patio or what. As it happens, we did order a pasta dish that included anchovies but it did not arrive until well after the pizza.

The pasta was a classic, paccheri alla Norma — a Neapolitan favorite of rather chunky tubes of hollow pasta in a pomodoro sauce with anchovies, ricotta, and eggplant. It hit the spot but went way over the top with the pizza. The five other pastas are also classics, including pappardelle with a pork ragu and pecorino cheese, ricotta ravioli, and corn agnolotti. There are five equally classic entrees — two chicken dishes, wood-roasted branzino, and porchetta, which I’m anxious to try.

I didn’t get to choose the meatballs we ordered, so my companion selected a savory serving of three meatballs in a tomato/mostarda sauce with currants. They were terrific, but why the hell didn’t he order the beef ones with gouda, red onion, and black truffle jam? Our fourth dish was by far the most dramatic. In fact, when it arrived at the table I immediately thought of the Wicked Witch of the West, hurling fire balls from her broom while Dorothy proceeded to Oz. It was roasted ears of corn whose singed leaves were pulled back in a mad whirl. The corn itself was not particularly notable until you slathered it in the lemon aioli and Calabrian peppers on which the dramatic broom piece sat. Seven other vegetable dishes were available and, congruent with the White Bull menu, they were the menu’s most compelling dishes to me. Well, they may have tied with the five mozzarella plates. I really wanted the burrata with prosciutto, peaches, and bread sticks. Maybe next time. And maybe I’ll get a cannoli too.

{BOX( bg="#66bfff")}
{img fileId="32311|32312" stylebox="float: left; margin-right:10px;" desc="desc" width="400px" responsive="y" button="popup"}
{img fileId="32313|32314" stylebox="float: left; margin-right:10px;" desc="desc" width="400px" responsive="y" button="popup"}
{img fileId="32315|32316" stylebox="float: left; margin-right:10px;" desc="desc" width="400px" responsive="y" button="popup"}
{BOX}

I did go inside the large restaurant for a quick tour in my low-fashion mask, and the place was smart but lonely. Only two tables were occupied. The capacious dining room includes a mezzanine, which seems to be an architectural thing with restaurants these days. There’s also a long bar and a very open kitchen. Besides the tiny patio out front, there’s also rooftop dining. Both come with plenty of oxygen. The staff is well educated about the menu, and our server had mastered the art of clear articulation while facially mummified. Give it a try.

My second experiment with patio dining during the plague was a visit to Delbar, a new Persian restaurant off North Highland. The name means “soulmate” or “true love” in Farsi, one of the most beautiful languages on the planet. If I had to name a psychedelic moment that involved no ingestion of psychedelics, it would be the afternoon in grad school I listened to an Iranian woman read the 13th-century Persian poet Rumi in Farsi. I told this story to my masked server, Radman, an Iranian student studying at Georgia State. We talked about how much more complex Persian culture is than its media representation. He visits often to see family in Tehran.

That being his experience, the restaurant’s owner/chef, Fares Kargar, told “What Now Atlanta” that he left Iran for Turkey as a refugee when he was 17. He soon migrated to Atlanta to study hospitality and, for a while, worked at Rumi’s Kitchen. Delbar is an ambitious project, not helped by opening during the pandemic. The bright, multilevel interior is huge and intriguing, probably reflective of Kargar’s call to architecture before he discovered the restaurant industry. Just like Pascarella at Grana, he says the menu is inspired by the food his family’s women cooked.

The patio at Delbar is small, and when a thunderstorm forced me inside, I sat at the otherwise empty bar (wondering if the friendly, masked bartender was a viral sponge). I was eating alone, so I didn’t get to taste much of the menu. I ordered two dishes with which I had some familiarity. The main one was a Cornish hen coated in saffron and deep-fried whole in butter. You tear the bird apart with your hands and drag the meat through one serving of more melted butter and another of Iran’s signature pomegranate sauce. The flavors verged on decadent, but in truth the bird’s white meat was so dry that even an extra-long bath in the sauces was inadequate to add much moisture. I also ordered a plate of the traditional adas polo, a huge plate of saffron basmati rice with lentils and raisins. Traditionally the outer coat of the rice, topped with fried onions, is a bit crispy, but Delbar’s not so much. Here’s the thing, though. I took the leftovers home, tore the flesh from the bird, let it soak in some melted butter, sat it on the rice, then anointed it with pomegranate sauce. The result was much more appetizing. The crowded plating at the restaurant actually made doing this impossible. The rice was truly enough for more than two people, so order it with one of the mezzes, like “sour orange” prawns. Or make a meal of the mezzes, which also include falafel and spreads like hummus and labneh. Be aware, too, that every meal comes with a truly wonderful starter of charred, chewy flatbread with radishes, walnuts, an unusually good feta-type cheese, and herbs. Fold the mint and tarragon into pieces of the bread along with the cheese.

I did take a second meal home for the over-worked CDC scientist with whom I live, and I’m tempted to say it was better than my own, although I barely got a taste. He got a whole, silvery trout with walnuts, herbs, and pomegranate. He also got an order of the fried-eggplant spread with onion, mint, and cream of whey. He raved. Then he returned to the plague.

This may be the first Persian restaurant I’ve visited where I didn’t order lamb, but there are three dishes on the menu — a stew, chops, and shwarma. There are also kabobs, vegetables, and three rice dishes besides the one I ordered. A few adjustments will make the restaurant a favorite destination for lovers of Middle Eastern cuisine. __—CL—__

''Grana, 1835 Piedmont Ave. N.E. 404-231-9000, granaatl.com, @granaatl.''

''Delbar, 870 Inman Village Parkway N.E., Suite 1, 404-500-1444, delbaratl.com, @delbaratl.''"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-08-05T20:48:32+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-08-05T20:59:44+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_freshness_days"]=>
  int(651)
  ["tracker_field_photos"]=>
  string(5) "32317"
  ["tracker_field_photos_names"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(20) "GRAZ Witch Broom Web"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filenames"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(24) "GRAZ_witch_broom_web.jpg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filetypes"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "image/jpeg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_text"]=>
  string(20) "GRAZ Witch Broom Web"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoCredit"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoTitle"]=>
  string(116) "A WITCH'S BROOM?: Roasted corn stands over lemon aioli beneath a headdress designed by the Wicked Witch of the West."
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "245"
    [1]=>
    string(3) "620"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(7) "245 620"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_names"]=>
  string(14) "Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_paths"]=>
  string(23) "Content::Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentLocation"]=>
  string(6) "0,0,10"
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentMiscCategories"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(4) "1297"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentMiscCategories_text"]=>
  string(4) "1297"
  ["tracker_field_contentMiscCategories_names"]=>
  string(8) "Featured"
  ["tracker_field_contentMiscCategories_paths"]=>
  string(25) "Misc Categories::Featured"
  ["tracker_field_contentFreeTags"]=>
  string(7) "grazing"
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "749"
    [1]=>
    string(4) "1323"
    [2]=>
    string(4) "1302"
  }
  ["tracker_field_section_text"]=>
  string(13) "749 1323 1302"
  ["tracker_field_section_names"]=>
  string(30) "Food Portal, Print Issue, 2020"
  ["tracker_field_section_paths"]=>
  string(80) "Section::Portals::Food Portal, Section::Print Issue, Section::Print Volume::2020"
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "32317"
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(7) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
    [1]=>
    int(620)
    [2]=>
    int(749)
    [3]=>
    int(1297)
    [4]=>
    int(1302)
    [5]=>
    int(1323)
    [6]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(16) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(245)
    [2]=>
    int(1182)
    [3]=>
    int(1477)
    [4]=>
    int(621)
    [5]=>
    int(620)
    [6]=>
    int(743)
    [7]=>
    int(749)
    [8]=>
    int(996)
    [9]=>
    int(1297)
    [10]=>
    int(1301)
    [11]=>
    int(1302)
    [12]=>
    int(1323)
    [13]=>
    int(28)
    [14]=>
    int(988)
    [15]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(988)
    [1]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(1323)
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(8) {
    [0]=>
    int(1477)
    [1]=>
    int(621)
    [2]=>
    int(620)
    [3]=>
    int(743)
    [4]=>
    int(749)
    [5]=>
    int(1301)
    [6]=>
    int(1302)
    [7]=>
    int(1323)
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "471"
  }
  ["freetags_text"]=>
  string(7) "grazing"
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["user_groups"]=>
  array(9) {
    [0]=>
    string(22) "Product Representative"
    [1]=>
    string(12) "Wiki Editors"
    [2]=>
    string(17) "CL Correspondents"
    [3]=>
    string(20) "Event Representative"
    [4]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [5]=>
    string(10) "CL Editors"
    [6]=>
    string(27) "Organization Representative"
    [7]=>
    string(18) "Account Executives"
    [8]=>
    string(7) "Artists"
  }
  ["user_followers"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "jonny"
    [1]=>
    string(14) "thevinylwarhol"
  }
  ["like_list"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(27) "tiki.file.attach:file:32317"
    [1]=>
    string(127) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:wiki page:Content:_:GRAZING: Grana and Delbar provide two new opportunities for patio plague dining"
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(16) "tiki.file.attach"
    [1]=>
    string(27) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert"
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(18) "tiki.file.attach:1"
    [1]=>
    string(29) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:1"
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "G"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(7) "GRAZING"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item475019"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "475019"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(9967) " GRAZ Witch Broom Web A WITCH'S BROOM?: Roasted corn stands over lemon aioli beneath a headdress designed by the Wicked Witch of the West. Photo credit: Cliff Bostock 2020-08-05T20:34:06+00:00 GRAZ_witch_broom_web.jpg     grazing  GRAZ Witch Broom Web   2020-08-05T20:44:22+00:00  GRAZING: Grana and Delbar provide two new opportunities for patio plague dining jim.harris Jim Harris Cliff Bostock cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock) 2020-08-05T20:44:22+00:00 It was mid-July and I had not eaten in a restaurant in four months — not even outdoors. The idea was terrifying. I imagined people huddled on crowded patios, inhaling and exhaling the coronavirus like smoke in a hookah lounge. They would all be 23 and drunk, flaunting their dolphinlike lungs and uncreased skin, or they would be escapees from nursing homes blowing kisses through fingers coated with mucous.

Finally, though, more reasonable friends and desperation for something to write about convinced me to visit two restaurant patios. And, to my surprise, my anxiety did not become the panic attack I expected. I don’t have too many illusions about this. I know that COVID-19’s infection rate is “soaring” and “surging” — the media love those words — so that, once again, fewer people are entering public space. Don’t regard what follows as a real-time account of anything more than the food at these places based on single visits. At this writing, both restaurants have menus for dining in and taking out. You should call ahead, because the pandemic comes with scheduling pandemonium.

First up was Grana, a newish Italian restaurant that opened just in time for La Corona in mid-March on Piedmont Avenue, near Cheshire Bridge. It is owned by the exceedingly talented Pat Pascarella, who owned a renowned restaurant in Connecticut and moved here, where he became executive chef at the Optimist, arguably the city’s best seafood destination. Last year, he opened the White Bull in Decatur. It draws on Pascarella’s Italian heritage, but is mainly a playful farm-to-table venue heavy on veggies. Its name pays homage to Ernest Hemingway, who romanticized himself as a writerly matador. He referred to the blank page as his white bull, his challenge to dance with an overwhelming onslaught of words until he found the perfect textual moves and slayed the beast of mediocrity with his pen. It’s not a bad metaphor for the chef’s challenge to shape seasonal harvests from local farms and create something masterful. Pascarella succeeds at that at the White Bull.

Much of the same ethos prevails at Grana, but the menu is explicitly and classically Italian. Like every Italian chef in America, Pascarella attributes his tastes and skills to his mother and grandmother, who mastered the classics of southern Italy. The menu is divided into seven sections: bread, mozzarella plates, meatballs, pasta, entrees, vegetables, and Neapolitan-style pizzas. There seriously wasn’t anything on the menu that I wouldn’t love to try, but two of us couldn’t even finish the four dishes we ordered. Prepare for leftovers.

I knew that I was not going to pass up the fig pizza, one of my favorites, and this was by far the best I’ve had in years. Besides fat slices of ripe figs, the charred pie was topped with ricotta cheese and speck. Vincotto added a slightly sweet note that toyed with peppery arugula profusely scattered on the pie after it was taken from one of the two wood-fire ovens. I have to admit I did encounter an odd note of anchovies now and then. My companion didn’t, so I don’t know if this was my super-sensitive nose inhaling something from the lone table at the other end of the patio or what. As it happens, we did order a pasta dish that included anchovies but it did not arrive until well after the pizza.

The pasta was a classic, paccheri alla Norma — a Neapolitan favorite of rather chunky tubes of hollow pasta in a pomodoro sauce with anchovies, ricotta, and eggplant. It hit the spot but went way over the top with the pizza. The five other pastas are also classics, including pappardelle with a pork ragu and pecorino cheese, ricotta ravioli, and corn agnolotti. There are five equally classic entrees — two chicken dishes, wood-roasted branzino, and porchetta, which I’m anxious to try.

I didn’t get to choose the meatballs we ordered, so my companion selected a savory serving of three meatballs in a tomato/mostarda sauce with currants. They were terrific, but why the hell didn’t he order the beef ones with gouda, red onion, and black truffle jam? Our fourth dish was by far the most dramatic. In fact, when it arrived at the table I immediately thought of the Wicked Witch of the West, hurling fire balls from her broom while Dorothy proceeded to Oz. It was roasted ears of corn whose singed leaves were pulled back in a mad whirl. The corn itself was not particularly notable until you slathered it in the lemon aioli and Calabrian peppers on which the dramatic broom piece sat. Seven other vegetable dishes were available and, congruent with the White Bull menu, they were the menu’s most compelling dishes to me. Well, they may have tied with the five mozzarella plates. I really wanted the burrata with prosciutto, peaches, and bread sticks. Maybe next time. And maybe I’ll get a cannoli too.



I did go inside the large restaurant for a quick tour in my low-fashion mask, and the place was smart but lonely. Only two tables were occupied. The capacious dining room includes a mezzanine, which seems to be an architectural thing with restaurants these days. There’s also a long bar and a very open kitchen. Besides the tiny patio out front, there’s also rooftop dining. Both come with plenty of oxygen. The staff is well educated about the menu, and our server had mastered the art of clear articulation while facially mummified. Give it a try.

My second experiment with patio dining during the plague was a visit to Delbar, a new Persian restaurant off North Highland. The name means “soulmate” or “true love” in Farsi, one of the most beautiful languages on the planet. If I had to name a psychedelic moment that involved no ingestion of psychedelics, it would be the afternoon in grad school I listened to an Iranian woman read the 13th-century Persian poet Rumi in Farsi. I told this story to my masked server, Radman, an Iranian student studying at Georgia State. We talked about how much more complex Persian culture is than its media representation. He visits often to see family in Tehran.

That being his experience, the restaurant’s owner/chef, Fares Kargar, told “What Now Atlanta” that he left Iran for Turkey as a refugee when he was 17. He soon migrated to Atlanta to study hospitality and, for a while, worked at Rumi’s Kitchen. Delbar is an ambitious project, not helped by opening during the pandemic. The bright, multilevel interior is huge and intriguing, probably reflective of Kargar’s call to architecture before he discovered the restaurant industry. Just like Pascarella at Grana, he says the menu is inspired by the food his family’s women cooked.

The patio at Delbar is small, and when a thunderstorm forced me inside, I sat at the otherwise empty bar (wondering if the friendly, masked bartender was a viral sponge). I was eating alone, so I didn’t get to taste much of the menu. I ordered two dishes with which I had some familiarity. The main one was a Cornish hen coated in saffron and deep-fried whole in butter. You tear the bird apart with your hands and drag the meat through one serving of more melted butter and another of Iran’s signature pomegranate sauce. The flavors verged on decadent, but in truth the bird’s white meat was so dry that even an extra-long bath in the sauces was inadequate to add much moisture. I also ordered a plate of the traditional adas polo, a huge plate of saffron basmati rice with lentils and raisins. Traditionally the outer coat of the rice, topped with fried onions, is a bit crispy, but Delbar’s not so much. Here’s the thing, though. I took the leftovers home, tore the flesh from the bird, let it soak in some melted butter, sat it on the rice, then anointed it with pomegranate sauce. The result was much more appetizing. The crowded plating at the restaurant actually made doing this impossible. The rice was truly enough for more than two people, so order it with one of the mezzes, like “sour orange” prawns. Or make a meal of the mezzes, which also include falafel and spreads like hummus and labneh. Be aware, too, that every meal comes with a truly wonderful starter of charred, chewy flatbread with radishes, walnuts, an unusually good feta-type cheese, and herbs. Fold the mint and tarragon into pieces of the bread along with the cheese.

I did take a second meal home for the over-worked CDC scientist with whom I live, and I’m tempted to say it was better than my own, although I barely got a taste. He got a whole, silvery trout with walnuts, herbs, and pomegranate. He also got an order of the fried-eggplant spread with onion, mint, and cream of whey. He raved. Then he returned to the plague.

This may be the first Persian restaurant I’ve visited where I didn’t order lamb, but there are three dishes on the menu — a stew, chops, and shwarma. There are also kabobs, vegetables, and three rice dishes besides the one I ordered. A few adjustments will make the restaurant a favorite destination for lovers of Middle Eastern cuisine. —CL—

Grana, 1835 Piedmont Ave. N.E. 404-231-9000, granaatl.com, @granaatl.

Delbar, 870 Inman Village Parkway N.E., Suite 1, 404-500-1444, delbaratl.com, @delbaratl.    Cliff Bostock A WITCH'S BROOM?: Roasted corn stands over lemon aioli beneath a headdress designed by the Wicked Witch of the West.  0,0,10    grazing                       GRAZING: Grana and Delbar provide two new opportunities for patio plague dining "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(35) "atlantawiki_tiki_main_6285dce1d165e"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(257) " GRAZING: Grana and Delbar provide two new opportunities for patio plague dining"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(262) "

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(32) "No description provided"
  ["eventDate"]=>
  string(32) "No description provided"
  ["noads"]=>
  string(10) "y"
}

array(101) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(93) "GRAZING: Talat Market: Where scoring a takeout meal is harder than getting laid in a pandemic"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-09-27T21:16:51+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-06-04T15:19:54+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "ben.eason"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-06-04T15:14:59+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["parent_object_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["parent_object_type"]=>
  string(7) "tracker"
  ["field_permissions"]=>
  string(2) "[]"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(93) "GRAZING: Talat Market: Where scoring a takeout meal is harder than getting laid in a pandemic"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator"]=>
  string(10) "jim.harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_text"]=>
  string(10) "Jim Harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_unstemmed"]=>
  string(10) "jim harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "476087"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(33) "cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock)"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(26) "But the reward is the same"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(26) "But the reward is the same"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2020-06-04T15:14:59+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(103) "Content:_:GRAZING: Talat Market: Where scoring a takeout meal is harder than getting laid in a pandemic"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(8338) "I intentionally arrived 10 minutes early when I went to pick up my meal at the new Talat Market in Summerhill. I knew curb service was their modus operandi, but my sneaky plan was to go inside and at least get a look at the dining room, which was, of course, under coronavirus-shutdown. I leaned back in my car, opened the door, put my left foot out, and was startled by a scream. “Sir! Sir! Are you here to pick up an order? May I help you? Sir? What is your name, sir?”

I peeked outside and saw that the woman asking to see my papers was smiling, but holding her social distance at, oh, 30 feet. I identified myself. She paced into the restaurant and paced back out with a large paper bag that she held at arm’s length, reminding me of my second-grade friend Joel, who walked into class holding a dead squirrel at the same distance. I put the bag on the passenger’s seat, and, just as our second-grade teacher made Joel do, I furiously cleaned my hands with antibacterial soap before grabbing the steering wheel and nervously driving home.

Is it ever going to end? Unless you have a second-grader’s immune system, it’s still risky to dine with other humans. While a lot of restaurants have reopened — 40 in the Buford Highway corridor! — most have not. By the time you read this, the city’s bars and clubs will have been authorized to reopen, so maybe alcohol will help spread Eric Trump’s neurological disorder that causes the pandemic to seem like a Democratic hoax which will disappear after the November election. In other words, if you are a Republican, eat, drink and be merry now. I concur!

Atlanta’s foodies have anticipated the opening of Talat with the same fervor as Little Bear, which I wrote about last month. They have a similar history, having both gained enormous popularity as pop-ups at Gato in Ormewood Park. Chefs/co-owners Parnass Savang and Rod Lassiter spent two years there before exiting last August to begin working on their brick-and-mortar plan while still popping up at various locations around the city. This was after Talat was named one of Bon Appetit’s best new restaurants of 2018 and Savang had been named a James Beard semi-finalist, as was Jarrett Stieber, owner of Little Bear. The two restaurants also share the ill fate of opening in the same neighborhood during the pandemic and having to limit their service to takeout. They’ve also both done well enough — they sell out quickly — to retain their small staffs.

I dined at Talat’s Gato location at least four times and, like everyone else, was floored by the food. Savang’s story has been microscopically recounted (see Eater Atlanta). He grew up in his parents’ Americanized Thai restaurant, Danthai, in Lawrenceville, and planned to flee the restaurant business after high school. But it was in his blood and, after two years, he embarked on a career that sent him to the Culinary Institute of America and had him working with some of the city’s best chefs, like Hugh Acheson and Ryan Smith (who was a huge inspiration to Stieber). While working at Kimball House, he convinced co-worker Rod Lassiter to join him as sous chef and co-owner of Talat, which means “market” and pays homage to the Thai markets he visited with his mother as a kid. He credits “staging” gigs at restaurants in Bangkok and Portland with distilling his vision for authentically inspired Thai food, more like the kind his parents actually ate at home instead of the Americanized version their restaurant served.



The Portland restaurant where he staged, Pok Pok, is famous for adapting Thailand’s street food, which is highly seasonal and varies by region with the same kind of intense cultural and agricultural differences as, say, Mexico’s Oaxacan province. A region’s dishes — here or in Thailand — are an expression of its particular culture interacting with the ground to which it is attached. Thus, Savang’s cooking transforms Thai food by bringing specifically located, native technique into contact with Georgia dirt. While local sourcing sounds like the agenda of nearly every young chef, it requires special deftness to bring those ingredients smoothly into cooperation with a culture on the other side of the globe. That is why I’d call this unusually authentic but other-than-authentic Thai cooking. It’s not the clumsy fusion food of the ’80s. It is a new cuisine. This, at least, is my reading of Talat’s food.

That said, beyond the greater spiciness, it’s not so easy to detect specific subtleties even though it’s easy as pie to know you are eating something extraordinary. The takeout menu, like many others around town, features multiple dishes — seven during my meal — for two people and costs an absurdly cheap $50 total. Let me get the warning over with: Scoring a meal — 52 are available daily, Wednesday-Sunday — is frankly a nightmare. You order online, starting at noon, two days before your preferred pick-up day. Here’s what happened to me: I got online at noon, was surprised to see a slot available, filled out all my information, hit “submit” and was booted back a page. I wasn’t sure if I’d been charged. I was so confused, I called and left a message and sent an email, but I decided to try again. Whoa! I was informed a later time was available. I filled everything out and — boom! — the same thing happened. My fingers flew into a typing rage a third time, and I scored! In short, meals were selling out between the time I entered my credit card number and hit the submit button.

My meal was expectedly wonderful, with few disappointments. Takeout presentation is not especially attractive or convenient. When you’re serving soups and curries, I guess there are few alternatives for transport, but I came very close to spilling the pork-based broth from its large plastic container that was thin and slippery. The soup included pork and shrimp sausage, glass noodles, wood ear mushrooms, daylilies, scallions, and cilantro. To serve, I suggest you pour the liquid first into two bowls and then divvy up the solids at the bottom of the container. The soup was a springtime wake-up to the palate by way of funky flavors pulled out of the ground by a hungry pig.

Next up was yum khao thawt — Savang’s signature crispy rice, stained with red chile jam, tossed with beets, peanuts, ginger, cilantro, shallots, and little gem lettuce. So red. I’m sure you see the Southern influence. Another plastic container contained more red, this time as a coconut-milk curry with asparagus, pineapple, spring onions, and Thai basil. The pineapple’s sweet notes were a bit much for me, even with the spicy zing, but I loved the fresh grilled asparagus, slightly bitter, replacing the green beans we usually see around town. You’ll want to serve this over the large portion of jasmine rice that comes with every meal.

Then there was the protein: crispy pork belly served with a garlic-pepper vinegar. This offered clean, clear, melting flavors, with the vinegar striking me, improbably, as an allusion to barbecue. Maybe my favorite dish was the luscious, stir-fried eggplant seasoned with garlic, fresh chiles, and Thai basil. It included an oyster sauce. I usually detest the heavy brown oyster sauces that obscure every other flavor on a plate, but this was light to the degree I didn’t even recognize it. Dessert was the menu’s explicitly Southern absurdity — your mama’s banana custard turned lividly green with pandan, an aromatic leaf common throughout Southeast Asia. Just in case the pudding and its vanilla wafers were too sweet, Savang threw some fried shallots on top. I have to say, the packaging of this gooey delight was a bit off-putting. Basically you have to scrape it off the bottom of its cardboard box … and you will scrape.

I did ride by the restaurant and peeked in the window of the sleek, gray building that was formerly a small market. You’ll enjoy the neon pineapple on the outside wall. The dining room seats about 30, includes a bar, and features a mural intended to complement a mid-century modern look. Check out the restaurant’s Instagram page, @talat_marketatl, for a view of everything. —CL—

(Talat Market, 112 Ormond St. S.E., 404-257-6255, talatmarketatl.com.)"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(8669) "I intentionally arrived 10 minutes early when I went to pick up my meal at the new Talat Market in Summerhill. I knew curb service was their modus operandi, but my sneaky plan was to go inside and at least get a look at the dining room, which was, of course, under coronavirus-shutdown. I leaned back in my car, opened the door, put my left foot out, and was startled by a scream. “Sir! Sir! Are you here to pick up an order? May I help you? Sir? What is your name, sir?”

I peeked outside and saw that the woman asking to see my papers was smiling, but holding her social distance at, oh, 30 feet. I identified myself. She paced into the restaurant and paced back out with a large paper bag that she held at arm’s length, reminding me of my second-grade friend Joel, who walked into class holding a dead squirrel at the same distance. I put the bag on the passenger’s seat, and, just as our second-grade teacher made Joel do, I furiously cleaned my hands with antibacterial soap before grabbing the steering wheel and nervously driving home.

Is it ever going to end? Unless you have a second-grader’s immune system, it’s still risky to dine with other humans. While a lot of restaurants have reopened — 40 in the Buford Highway corridor! — most have not. By the time you read this, the city’s bars and clubs will have been authorized to reopen, so maybe alcohol will help spread Eric Trump’s neurological disorder that causes the pandemic to seem like a Democratic hoax which will disappear after the November election. In other words, if you are a Republican, eat, drink and be merry ''now''. I concur!

Atlanta’s foodies have anticipated the opening of Talat with the same fervor as Little Bear, which I wrote about last month. They have a similar history, having both gained enormous popularity as pop-ups at Gato in Ormewood Park. Chefs/co-owners Parnass Savang and Rod Lassiter spent two years there before exiting last August to begin working on their brick-and-mortar plan while still popping up at various locations around the city. This was after Talat was named one of ''Bon Appetit''’s best new restaurants of 2018 and Savang had been named a James Beard semi-finalist, as was Jarrett Stieber, owner of Little Bear. The two restaurants also share the ill fate of opening in the same neighborhood during the pandemic and having to limit their service to takeout. They’ve also both done well enough — they sell out quickly — to retain their small staffs.

I dined at Talat’s Gato location at least four times and, like everyone else, was floored by the food. Savang’s story has been microscopically recounted (see Eater Atlanta). He grew up in his parents’ Americanized Thai restaurant, Danthai, in Lawrenceville, and planned to flee the restaurant business after high school. But it was in his blood and, after two years, he embarked on a career that sent him to the Culinary Institute of America and had him working with some of the city’s best chefs, like Hugh Acheson and Ryan Smith (who was a huge inspiration to Stieber). While working at Kimball House, he convinced co-worker Rod Lassiter to join him as sous chef and co-owner of Talat, which means “market” and pays homage to the Thai markets he visited with his mother as a kid. He credits “staging” gigs at restaurants in Bangkok and Portland with distilling his vision for authentically inspired Thai food, more like the kind his parents actually ate at home instead of the Americanized version their restaurant served.

{BOX( bg="#66bfff")}
{img fileId="31434|31435|31436" stylebox="float: left; margin-right:10px; width:30%;" desc="desc" width="30%" responsive="y" button="popup"}
{img fileId="31437|31438|31439" stylebox="float: left; margin-right:10px; width:30%;" desc="desc" width="30%" responsive="y" button="popup"}
{BOX}

The Portland restaurant where he staged, Pok Pok, is famous for adapting Thailand’s street food, which is highly seasonal and varies by region with the same kind of intense cultural and agricultural differences as, say, Mexico’s Oaxacan province. A region’s dishes — here or in Thailand — are an expression of its particular culture interacting with the ground to which it is attached. Thus, Savang’s cooking transforms Thai food by bringing specifically located, native technique into contact with Georgia dirt. While local sourcing sounds like the agenda of nearly every young chef, it requires special deftness to bring those ingredients smoothly into cooperation with a culture on the other side of the globe. That is why I’d call this unusually authentic but other-than-authentic Thai cooking. It’s not the clumsy fusion food of the ’80s. It is a new cuisine. This, at least, is my reading of Talat’s food.

That said, beyond the greater spiciness, it’s not so easy to detect specific subtleties even though it’s easy as pie to know you are eating something extraordinary. The takeout menu, like many others around town, features multiple dishes — seven during my meal — for two people and costs an absurdly cheap $50 total. Let me get the warning over with: Scoring a meal — 52 are available daily, Wednesday-Sunday — is frankly a nightmare. You order online, starting at noon, two days before your preferred pick-up day. Here’s what happened to me: I got online at noon, was surprised to see a slot available, filled out all my information, hit “submit” and was booted back a page. I wasn’t sure if I’d been charged. I was so confused, I called and left a message and sent an email, but I decided to try again. Whoa! I was informed a later time was available. I filled everything out and — boom! — the same thing happened. My fingers flew into a typing rage a third time, and I scored! In short, meals were selling out between the time I entered my credit card number and hit the submit button.

My meal was expectedly wonderful, with few disappointments. Takeout presentation is not especially attractive or convenient. When you’re serving soups and curries, I guess there are few alternatives for transport, but I came very close to spilling the pork-based broth from its large plastic container that was thin and slippery. The soup included pork and shrimp sausage, glass noodles, wood ear mushrooms, daylilies, scallions, and cilantro. To serve, I suggest you pour the liquid first into two bowls and then divvy up the solids at the bottom of the container. The soup was a springtime wake-up to the palate by way of funky flavors pulled out of the ground by a hungry pig.

Next up was yum khao thawt — Savang’s signature crispy rice, stained with red chile jam, tossed with beets, peanuts, ginger, cilantro, shallots, and little gem lettuce. So red. I’m sure you see the Southern influence. Another plastic container contained more red, this time as a coconut-milk curry with asparagus, pineapple, spring onions, and Thai basil. The pineapple’s sweet notes were a bit much for me, even with the spicy zing, but I loved the fresh grilled asparagus, slightly bitter, replacing the green beans we usually see around town. You’ll want to serve this over the large portion of jasmine rice that comes with every meal.

Then there was the protein: crispy pork belly served with a garlic-pepper vinegar. This offered clean, clear, melting flavors, with the vinegar striking me, improbably, as an allusion to barbecue. Maybe my favorite dish was the luscious, stir-fried eggplant seasoned with garlic, fresh chiles, and Thai basil. It included an oyster sauce. I usually detest the heavy brown oyster sauces that obscure every other flavor on a plate, but this was light to the degree I didn’t even recognize it. Dessert was the menu’s explicitly Southern absurdity — your mama’s banana custard turned lividly green with pandan, an aromatic leaf common throughout Southeast Asia. Just in case the pudding and its vanilla wafers were too sweet, Savang threw some fried shallots on top. I have to say, the packaging of this gooey delight was a bit off-putting. Basically you have to scrape it off the bottom of its cardboard box … and you will scrape.

I did ride by the restaurant and peeked in the window of the sleek, gray building that was formerly a small market. You’ll enjoy the neon pineapple on the outside wall. The dining room seats about 30, includes a bar, and features a mural intended to complement a mid-century modern look. Check out the restaurant’s Instagram page, @talat_marketatl, for a view of everything. __—CL—__

(__''Talat Market, 112 Ormond St. S.E., 404-257-6255, talatmarketatl.com.''__)"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-06-04T15:19:54+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-06-04T15:28:29+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_freshness_days"]=>
  int(713)
  ["tracker_field_photos"]=>
  string(5) "31437"
  ["tracker_field_photos_names"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(16) "GRAZ JUN B2f Web"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filenames"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(20) "GRAZ_JUN_b2f_web.jpg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filetypes"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "image/jpeg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_text"]=>
  string(16) "GRAZ JUN B2f Web"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoCredit"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoTitle"]=>
  string(169) "STUDY IN RED: Red chile jam colors crispy rice, and beets take it a shade deeper. PHOTO CREDIT: Cliff Bostock Peanuts challenge rice in a battle for crunchy superiority."
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "245"
    [1]=>
    string(3) "620"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(7) "245 620"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_names"]=>
  string(14) "Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_paths"]=>
  string(23) "Content::Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "749"
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene_text"]=>
  string(3) "749"
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentLocation"]=>
  string(6) "0,0,10"
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentMiscCategories"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentFreeTags"]=>
  string(7) "grazing"
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "31437"
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(4) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
    [1]=>
    int(620)
    [2]=>
    int(749)
    [3]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(11) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(245)
    [2]=>
    int(1182)
    [3]=>
    int(1477)
    [4]=>
    int(621)
    [5]=>
    int(620)
    [6]=>
    int(743)
    [7]=>
    int(749)
    [8]=>
    int(28)
    [9]=>
    int(988)
    [10]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(988)
    [1]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(5) {
    [0]=>
    int(1477)
    [1]=>
    int(621)
    [2]=>
    int(620)
    [3]=>
    int(743)
    [4]=>
    int(749)
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "471"
  }
  ["freetags_text"]=>
  string(7) "grazing"
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["user_groups"]=>
  array(9) {
    [0]=>
    string(22) "Product Representative"
    [1]=>
    string(12) "Wiki Editors"
    [2]=>
    string(17) "CL Correspondents"
    [3]=>
    string(20) "Event Representative"
    [4]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [5]=>
    string(10) "CL Editors"
    [6]=>
    string(27) "Organization Representative"
    [7]=>
    string(18) "Account Executives"
    [8]=>
    string(7) "Artists"
  }
  ["user_followers"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "jonny"
    [1]=>
    string(14) "thevinylwarhol"
  }
  ["like_list"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(27) "tiki.file.attach:file:31437"
    [1]=>
    string(141) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:wiki page:Content:_:GRAZING: Talat Market: Where scoring a takeout meal is harder than getting laid in a pandemic"
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(16) "tiki.file.attach"
    [1]=>
    string(27) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert"
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(18) "tiki.file.attach:1"
    [1]=>
    string(29) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:1"
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "G"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(7) "GRAZING"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item471360"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "471360"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(9143) " GRAZ JUN B2f Web CRISPY PORK BELLY: Chef Parnass Savang seizes Southern and Thai dishes and brings them into highly edible accord. PHOTO CREDIT: Cliff Bostock 2020-06-04T15:07:39+00:00 GRAZ_JUN_b2f_web.jpg     grazing But the reward is the same GRAZ JUN B2f Web   2020-06-04T15:14:59+00:00  GRAZING: Talat Market: Where scoring a takeout meal is harder than getting laid in a pandemic jim.harris Jim Harris Cliff Bostock cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock) 2020-06-04T15:14:59+00:00 I intentionally arrived 10 minutes early when I went to pick up my meal at the new Talat Market in Summerhill. I knew curb service was their modus operandi, but my sneaky plan was to go inside and at least get a look at the dining room, which was, of course, under coronavirus-shutdown. I leaned back in my car, opened the door, put my left foot out, and was startled by a scream. “Sir! Sir! Are you here to pick up an order? May I help you? Sir? What is your name, sir?”

I peeked outside and saw that the woman asking to see my papers was smiling, but holding her social distance at, oh, 30 feet. I identified myself. She paced into the restaurant and paced back out with a large paper bag that she held at arm’s length, reminding me of my second-grade friend Joel, who walked into class holding a dead squirrel at the same distance. I put the bag on the passenger’s seat, and, just as our second-grade teacher made Joel do, I furiously cleaned my hands with antibacterial soap before grabbing the steering wheel and nervously driving home.

Is it ever going to end? Unless you have a second-grader’s immune system, it’s still risky to dine with other humans. While a lot of restaurants have reopened — 40 in the Buford Highway corridor! — most have not. By the time you read this, the city’s bars and clubs will have been authorized to reopen, so maybe alcohol will help spread Eric Trump’s neurological disorder that causes the pandemic to seem like a Democratic hoax which will disappear after the November election. In other words, if you are a Republican, eat, drink and be merry now. I concur!

Atlanta’s foodies have anticipated the opening of Talat with the same fervor as Little Bear, which I wrote about last month. They have a similar history, having both gained enormous popularity as pop-ups at Gato in Ormewood Park. Chefs/co-owners Parnass Savang and Rod Lassiter spent two years there before exiting last August to begin working on their brick-and-mortar plan while still popping up at various locations around the city. This was after Talat was named one of Bon Appetit’s best new restaurants of 2018 and Savang had been named a James Beard semi-finalist, as was Jarrett Stieber, owner of Little Bear. The two restaurants also share the ill fate of opening in the same neighborhood during the pandemic and having to limit their service to takeout. They’ve also both done well enough — they sell out quickly — to retain their small staffs.

I dined at Talat’s Gato location at least four times and, like everyone else, was floored by the food. Savang’s story has been microscopically recounted (see Eater Atlanta). He grew up in his parents’ Americanized Thai restaurant, Danthai, in Lawrenceville, and planned to flee the restaurant business after high school. But it was in his blood and, after two years, he embarked on a career that sent him to the Culinary Institute of America and had him working with some of the city’s best chefs, like Hugh Acheson and Ryan Smith (who was a huge inspiration to Stieber). While working at Kimball House, he convinced co-worker Rod Lassiter to join him as sous chef and co-owner of Talat, which means “market” and pays homage to the Thai markets he visited with his mother as a kid. He credits “staging” gigs at restaurants in Bangkok and Portland with distilling his vision for authentically inspired Thai food, more like the kind his parents actually ate at home instead of the Americanized version their restaurant served.



The Portland restaurant where he staged, Pok Pok, is famous for adapting Thailand’s street food, which is highly seasonal and varies by region with the same kind of intense cultural and agricultural differences as, say, Mexico’s Oaxacan province. A region’s dishes — here or in Thailand — are an expression of its particular culture interacting with the ground to which it is attached. Thus, Savang’s cooking transforms Thai food by bringing specifically located, native technique into contact with Georgia dirt. While local sourcing sounds like the agenda of nearly every young chef, it requires special deftness to bring those ingredients smoothly into cooperation with a culture on the other side of the globe. That is why I’d call this unusually authentic but other-than-authentic Thai cooking. It’s not the clumsy fusion food of the ’80s. It is a new cuisine. This, at least, is my reading of Talat’s food.

That said, beyond the greater spiciness, it’s not so easy to detect specific subtleties even though it’s easy as pie to know you are eating something extraordinary. The takeout menu, like many others around town, features multiple dishes — seven during my meal — for two people and costs an absurdly cheap $50 total. Let me get the warning over with: Scoring a meal — 52 are available daily, Wednesday-Sunday — is frankly a nightmare. You order online, starting at noon, two days before your preferred pick-up day. Here’s what happened to me: I got online at noon, was surprised to see a slot available, filled out all my information, hit “submit” and was booted back a page. I wasn’t sure if I’d been charged. I was so confused, I called and left a message and sent an email, but I decided to try again. Whoa! I was informed a later time was available. I filled everything out and — boom! — the same thing happened. My fingers flew into a typing rage a third time, and I scored! In short, meals were selling out between the time I entered my credit card number and hit the submit button.

My meal was expectedly wonderful, with few disappointments. Takeout presentation is not especially attractive or convenient. When you’re serving soups and curries, I guess there are few alternatives for transport, but I came very close to spilling the pork-based broth from its large plastic container that was thin and slippery. The soup included pork and shrimp sausage, glass noodles, wood ear mushrooms, daylilies, scallions, and cilantro. To serve, I suggest you pour the liquid first into two bowls and then divvy up the solids at the bottom of the container. The soup was a springtime wake-up to the palate by way of funky flavors pulled out of the ground by a hungry pig.

Next up was yum khao thawt — Savang’s signature crispy rice, stained with red chile jam, tossed with beets, peanuts, ginger, cilantro, shallots, and little gem lettuce. So red. I’m sure you see the Southern influence. Another plastic container contained more red, this time as a coconut-milk curry with asparagus, pineapple, spring onions, and Thai basil. The pineapple’s sweet notes were a bit much for me, even with the spicy zing, but I loved the fresh grilled asparagus, slightly bitter, replacing the green beans we usually see around town. You’ll want to serve this over the large portion of jasmine rice that comes with every meal.

Then there was the protein: crispy pork belly served with a garlic-pepper vinegar. This offered clean, clear, melting flavors, with the vinegar striking me, improbably, as an allusion to barbecue. Maybe my favorite dish was the luscious, stir-fried eggplant seasoned with garlic, fresh chiles, and Thai basil. It included an oyster sauce. I usually detest the heavy brown oyster sauces that obscure every other flavor on a plate, but this was light to the degree I didn’t even recognize it. Dessert was the menu’s explicitly Southern absurdity — your mama’s banana custard turned lividly green with pandan, an aromatic leaf common throughout Southeast Asia. Just in case the pudding and its vanilla wafers were too sweet, Savang threw some fried shallots on top. I have to say, the packaging of this gooey delight was a bit off-putting. Basically you have to scrape it off the bottom of its cardboard box … and you will scrape.

I did ride by the restaurant and peeked in the window of the sleek, gray building that was formerly a small market. You’ll enjoy the neon pineapple on the outside wall. The dining room seats about 30, includes a bar, and features a mural intended to complement a mid-century modern look. Check out the restaurant’s Instagram page, @talat_marketatl, for a view of everything. —CL—

(Talat Market, 112 Ormond St. S.E., 404-257-6255, talatmarketatl.com.)    Cliff Bostock STUDY IN RED: Red chile jam colors crispy rice, and beets take it a shade deeper. PHOTO CREDIT: Cliff Bostock Peanuts challenge rice in a battle for crunchy superiority.  0,0,10    grazing                       GRAZING: Talat Market: Where scoring a takeout meal is harder than getting laid in a pandemic "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(35) "atlantawiki_tiki_main_6285dce1d165e"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(271) " GRAZING: Talat Market: Where scoring a takeout meal is harder than getting laid in a pandemic"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(259) "

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(35) "But the reward is the same"
  ["eventDate"]=>
  string(35) "But the reward is the same"
  ["noads"]=>
  string(10) "y"
}

array(104) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(87) "GRAZING: Little Bear: In planning for six years, open two weeks, currently takeout only"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-09-27T21:16:51+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-05-11T19:35:46+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "ben.eason"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-05-01T04:09:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["parent_object_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["parent_object_type"]=>
  string(7) "tracker"
  ["field_permissions"]=>
  string(2) "[]"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(87) "GRAZING: Little Bear: In planning for six years, open two weeks, currently takeout only"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator"]=>
  string(10) "jim.harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_text"]=>
  string(10) "Jim Harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_unstemmed"]=>
  string(10) "jim harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "476087"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(33) "cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock)"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(64) "Jarrett Stieber ‘radically’ transforms the dining experience"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(64) "Jarrett Stieber ‘radically’ transforms the dining experience"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2020-05-01T04:09:00+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(97) "Content:_:GRAZING: Little Bear: In planning for six years, open two weeks, currently takeout only"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(10409) "Every plague has its silver lining. For the first two weeks of March, I unsuccessfully tried to get a table at Jarrett Stieber’s greatly anticipated new restaurant, Little Bear, in Summerhill. Then the plague arrived and turned the restaurant — six years in the making — into a takeout joint. So, the silver lining is that you and I get to more easily score five or six courses of Stieber’s prix fixe menu. 

But that’s the only silver lining I’ve encountered lately. When I wrote my last column in March, the mayor had not yet locked down the city. Since then, the coronavirus has created a tsunami of misery, sweeping through all sectors of the economy. Layoffs, furloughs, cutbacks, closings, and firings have been especially difficult for restaurants. Most operate on a slim profit margin to begin with and — let’s be honest — most employees are poorly paid and living paycheck-to-paycheck. For many, it’s a transition or side job while they seek a more stable career opportunity. Since the crash, many forms of assistance, from free meals to fundraised cash, have become available to unemployed restaurant workers, but we are standing on the precipice of a second Great Recession, which caused reorganization of the entire economy. We’re likely destined again for a new “normal.”

As it happens, “normal” is not a word that would suit Jarrett Stieber, regardless of the economy. I, like most of Atlanta, have been intrigued by his cooking ever since he opened the pop-up, Eat Me Speak Me. He started out miserably unappreciated by the public at Candler Park Market and The General Muir in 2013. High points of that time included cooking blood sausage on a panini press and being overshadowed by matzoh balls. In 2014, he moved EMSM to Gato and it arguably become the city’s favorite pop-up. In 2017, he moved the operation to SOS Tiki Bar, which he vacated last year to get Little Bear rolling.

While many other restaurants have cut staff and turned to takeout, Stieber’s business is doing so well that he has not had to lay off any of his small crew or reduce pay. There are many reasons why. The food is of course the preeminent one. It’s often described as “whimsical.”  Stieber guesses that’s partly because of the menu’s humor. An example is the standing title of his shareable prix fixe menu: “Just fuck me up, fam’,” sarcastically referring to the true experience of family dining. The restaurant’s proprietor, by the way, is the greatly anthropomorphized Pyrenees mountain dog that Stieber and his wife Hallie own. His real name is Fernando but his nickname is, yes, Little Bear. (Please, no ABBA jokes.) Maybe the clearest example of linguistic whimsy is the front window’s announcement that the restaurant has won a rating of 2.5 tires from Michelin Tire Dining. It’s goofy but it all adds up to a pointedly satirical attitude toward the pretensions of fine dining.

The funny thing is that Stieber is a James Beard semifinalist and, on the surface, his food resembles contemporary fine dining: smallish plates of strictly local produce and proteins, unexpected flavor combinations, artful presentation. Consider the Spanish-inspired menu featured during the week I fetched a meal there. One dish was a rectangular portion of a Spanish-style tortilla made with baked eggs and mild turnips, covered with a “ropa vieja sauce” and “an egregious amount of olive oil.”  WTF is ropa vieja sauce? I’ve eaten a ton of ropa vieja, a favorite Cuban dish, but I don’t think of it as a Spanish dish or as a sauce. Stieber clarified in an email: “We thought it would be fun to include some flavors from places Spain forced their will on… Ropa vieja as more of a red-wine, braised meat gravy sauce to serve on another dish sounded fun to us.” So, there you have it: a classic tor-tilla that deliciously dishonors Spanish colonialism.


 

There were also the inevitable patatas bravas, but Stieber makes them with sweet potatoes, cooking them to addictive crispy-creamy perfection in a concoction of pork fat, coffee, and chili oil, then drizzled with aioli. The protein of the week was Catalan-style pork meatballs combined with a fetish of Catalonia — roasted green onions under salbitxada, a usually red sauce turned weirdly green by Stieber. The opening soup, caldo de Gallego, was absolutely the best version I’ve ever had. I opened the container and the odor of fennel blasted the room like the sins in Pandora’s box. It was made with red peas instead of white beans and was hellishly fiery. Stieber swears it wasn’t intentional, but the meal ended with a pastry, a pestiño — fried, honey-glazed dough flavored with benne and anise, which echoed the licorice flavor of the fennel that began the meal. It was apparently also coincidental that pestiños are only available during Christmas and Holy Week in Spain and were indeed served by Little Bear during Holy Week. The meal also included a stunning salad of gem lettuce, dill, radishes, and shavings of sharp idiazabal cheese, made from sheep’s milk. There was, finally, a second dessert of traditional almond cake, dusted with powdered sugar, allegedly flavored with strawberries.

 

So, what, besides the satirical approach, makes this food actually different from fine dining? For one significant thing, there’s the cost. The menu I’ve described was $55 for two. On the brink of recession, that may not sound inexpensive — and you better tip $15 minimum — but it’s as many as seven dishes of entirely local ingredients for two! Still, to me the truly notable thing is the artistry. Stieber, chef de cuisine Jacob Armando, and executive sous chef Trevor Vick work just the opposite of most kitchens. Instead of going shopping with a recipe, they go shopping and then dream up a recipe. Stieber describes the process: 

“The thought process for making a dish is pretty simple, actually. Unlike most restaurants, we order from the farms we buy from first, then use what we get to put together our menu instead of thinking of a dish then ordering whatever product we need to make it happen. So from there, we kind of use the ingredients like pieces in a puzzle so we can make dishes that have a balance of color, texture, and eye appeal. Usually the formula is basically to balance those elements, then make sure there’s something a little unusual or unique so that we can remain creative and stand out. That twist could be an unusual flavor combination, a different technique, or preparation for something which might be done a different way more often, etc. Another thing we like to do is layer condiments/sauces in our dishes so that every bite has the intended starting flavor of the dish, and you don’t have to struggle to get a solid bite, but, as you eat the dish and drag things around, elements mix together and create new flavors by the end.”

This is an impressive description of how creativity spurns originality, similar to the Greeks’ explanation. In their view creativity is not internally generated but arises outside of us. They personified that process as an encounter with the muse. In the same way, Stieber is saying that inspiration begins with the available ingredients. That’s often demonstrated as a game on the nightmare known as food TV, but the process is impossible to sustain in a high-volume restaurant, using ordinary ingredients. I don’t mean to suggest that Stieber is a complete savant. He’s been cooking half his life, having begun at 15 when he haunted Alon’s before getting a paid job there at 16. Also a musician, he enrolled at UNC-Asheville to study music recording but rapidly realized he wanted to continue playing and writing music, not engineering it. He came back to Atlanta, where his practical parents told him he was going to need a real job to back up his music making. So he landed at Le Cordon Bleu in Tucker. That was in 2007. While there, he got a job at Hector Santiago’s restaurant, Pura Vida, which was my favorite restaurant in the city during its few years of preternatural existence. It was there that Stieber learned how an uninhibited, inventive chef can radically transform the experience of dining.


 

After Stieber graduated, he migrated from kitchen to kitchen in Atlanta. Restaurants on his resume include Restaurant Eugene, Holeman & Finch, and Empire State South, all of which employed Ryan Smith, now the chef/owner of Staplehouse. If you’re familiar with Smith’s brilliant work, you’ll instantly spot its influence in Stieber’s. The main difference, I think, is rigor. As I told a friend, Stieber’s cooking is what you would get if Hector Santiago fucked with Ryan Smith’s food. It’s a bit messier, compellingly so, but almost in a conversely studied way. Sort of like perfect “messy hair.” In fact, I jokingly accused Stieber of being OCD. He explained — elaborately — why he was not. 

 

Stieber doesn’t deny that his particular method — refined for seven years with Eat Me Speak Me — is risky, so that he’s constantly testing, tweaking, giving up, and restarting. But creativity always risks occasional failure and, even more painful, mediocrity. The only problem I had with my Little Bear experience was trivial — the effect of takeout itself. The crew arranges every dish in detail in its own sturdy black takeout box, so transferring anything to a plate is going to disrupt the beauty. I did find most of the food more tepid than I like, but we all know that hot food in a box ain’t pretty by the time you get it home. The restaurant also vends “Fernando’s Liver Stimulus Package” —  boutique wines, spritz kits, beer, and cider.

I suggest you order now, because when Donald Trump reopens the gates to Moneyland, you won’t get a table at Little Bear. —CL—

Little Bear, 71-A Georgia Ave. S.E., 404-500-5396, littlebearatl.com. Open for takeout only, Wednesday–Sunday. You can order by phone, 10:30 a.m-8 p.m., for pickup 5-8 p.m. Vegetarian and vegan options are available when ordered a day in advance. The menu and photos are posted weekly to Twitter and Instagram, @littlebearatl. Unemployed restaurant workers who need a meal may DM chef de cuisine Jacob Armando via Instagram, @fourtimespicy. He is preparing and delivering free meals on Tuesday nights."
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(10749) "Every plague has its silver lining. For the first two weeks of March, I unsuccessfully tried to get a table at Jarrett Stieber’s greatly anticipated new restaurant, Little Bear, in Summerhill. Then the plague arrived and turned the restaurant — six years in the making — into a takeout joint. So, the silver lining is that you and I get to more easily score five or six courses of Stieber’s prix fixe menu. 

But that’s the only silver lining I’ve encountered lately. When I wrote my last column in March, the mayor had not yet locked down the city. Since then, the coronavirus has created a tsunami of misery, sweeping through all sectors of the economy. Layoffs, furloughs, cutbacks, closings, and firings have been especially difficult for restaurants. Most operate on a slim profit margin to begin with and — let’s be honest — most employees are poorly paid and living paycheck-to-paycheck. For many, it’s a transition or side job while they seek a more stable career opportunity. Since the crash, many forms of assistance, from free meals to fundraised cash, have become available to unemployed restaurant workers, but we are standing on the precipice of a second Great Recession, which caused reorganization of the entire economy. We’re likely destined again for a new “normal.”

As it happens, “normal” is not a word that would suit Jarrett Stieber, regardless of the economy. I, like most of Atlanta, have been intrigued by his cooking ever since he opened the pop-up, Eat Me Speak Me. He started out miserably unappreciated by the public at Candler Park Market and The General Muir in 2013. High points of that time included cooking blood sausage on a panini press and being overshadowed by matzoh balls. In 2014, he moved EMSM to Gato and it arguably become the city’s favorite pop-up. In 2017, he moved the operation to SOS Tiki Bar, which he vacated last year to get Little Bear rolling.

While many other restaurants have cut staff and turned to takeout, Stieber’s business is doing so well that he has not had to lay off any of his small crew or reduce pay. There are many reasons why. The food is of course the preeminent one. It’s often described as “whimsical.”  Stieber guesses that’s partly because of the menu’s humor. An example is the standing title of his shareable prix fixe menu: “Just fuck me up, fam’,” sarcastically referring to the true experience of family dining. The restaurant’s proprietor, by the way, is the greatly anthropomorphized Pyrenees mountain dog that Stieber and his wife Hallie own. His real name is Fernando but his nickname is, yes, Little Bear. (Please, no ABBA jokes.) Maybe the clearest example of linguistic whimsy is the front window’s announcement that the restaurant has won a rating of 2.5 tires from Michelin Tire Dining. It’s goofy but it all adds up to a pointedly satirical attitude toward the pretensions of fine dining.

The funny thing is that Stieber is a James Beard semifinalist and, on the surface, his food resembles contemporary fine dining: smallish plates of strictly local produce and proteins, unexpected flavor combinations, artful presentation. Consider the Spanish-inspired menu featured during the week I fetched a meal there. One dish was a rectangular portion of a Spanish-style tortilla made with baked eggs and mild turnips, covered with a “ropa vieja sauce” and “an egregious amount of olive oil.”  WTF is ropa vieja sauce? I’ve eaten a ton of ropa vieja, a favorite Cuban dish, but I don’t think of it as a Spanish dish or as a sauce. Stieber clarified in an email: “We thought it would be fun to include some flavors from places Spain forced their will on… Ropa vieja as more of a red-wine, braised meat gravy sauce to serve on another dish sounded fun to us.” So, there you have it: a classic tor-tilla that deliciously dishonors Spanish colonialism.

{BOX( bg="#66bfff" width="100%")}{img fileId="31011|31013|31014|31015" responsive="y" stylebox="float: left; margin:10px;" desc="desc" width="200px" button="popup"}{BOX}
 

There were also the inevitable patatas bravas, but Stieber makes them with sweet potatoes, cooking them to addictive crispy-creamy perfection in a concoction of pork fat, coffee, and chili oil, then drizzled with aioli. The protein of the week was Catalan-style pork meatballs combined with a fetish of Catalonia — roasted green onions under salbitxada, a usually red sauce turned weirdly green by Stieber. The opening soup, caldo de Gallego, was absolutely the best version I’ve ever had. I opened the container and the odor of fennel blasted the room like the sins in Pandora’s box. It was made with red peas instead of white beans and was hellishly fiery. Stieber swears it wasn’t intentional, but the meal ended with a pastry, a pestiño — fried, honey-glazed dough flavored with benne and anise, which echoed the licorice flavor of the fennel that began the meal. It was apparently also coincidental that pestiños are only available during Christmas and Holy Week in Spain and were indeed served by Little Bear during Holy Week. The meal also included a stunning salad of gem lettuce, dill, radishes, and shavings of sharp idiazabal cheese, made from sheep’s milk. There was, finally, a second dessert of traditional almond cake, dusted with powdered sugar, allegedly flavored with strawberries.

 

So, what, besides the satirical approach, makes this food actually different from fine dining? For one significant thing, there’s the cost. The menu I’ve described was $55 for two. On the brink of recession, that may not sound inexpensive — and you better tip $15 minimum — but it’s as many as seven dishes of entirely local ingredients for two! Still, to me the truly notable thing is the artistry. Stieber, chef de cuisine Jacob Armando, and executive sous chef Trevor Vick work just the opposite of most kitchens. Instead of going shopping with a recipe, they go shopping and then dream up a recipe. Stieber describes the process: 

“The thought process for making a dish is pretty simple, actually. Unlike most restaurants, we order from the farms we buy from first, then use what we get to put together our menu instead of thinking of a dish then ordering whatever product we need to make it happen. So from there, we kind of use the ingredients like pieces in a puzzle so we can make dishes that have a balance of color, texture, and eye appeal. Usually the formula is basically to balance those elements, then make sure there’s something a little unusual or unique so that we can remain creative and stand out. That twist could be an unusual flavor combination, a different technique, or preparation for something which might be done a different way more often, etc. Another thing we like to do is layer condiments/sauces in our dishes so that every bite has the intended starting flavor of the dish, and you don’t have to struggle to get a solid bite, but, as you eat the dish and drag things around, elements mix together and create new flavors by the end.”

This is an impressive description of how creativity spurns originality, similar to the Greeks’ explanation. In their view creativity is not internally generated but arises outside of us. They personified that process as an encounter with the muse. In the same way, Stieber is saying that inspiration begins with the available ingredients. That’s often demonstrated as a game on the nightmare known as food TV, but the process is impossible to sustain in a high-volume restaurant, using ordinary ingredients. I don’t mean to suggest that Stieber is a complete savant. He’s been cooking half his life, having begun at 15 when he haunted Alon’s before getting a paid job there at 16. Also a musician, he enrolled at UNC-Asheville to study music recording but rapidly realized he wanted to continue playing and writing music, not engineering it. He came back to Atlanta, where his practical parents told him he was going to need a real job to back up his music making. So he landed at Le Cordon Bleu in Tucker. That was in 2007. While there, he got a job at Hector Santiago’s restaurant, Pura Vida, which was my favorite restaurant in the city during its few years of preternatural existence. It was there that Stieber learned how an uninhibited, inventive chef can radically transform the experience of dining.

{BOX( bg="#66bfff" width="100%")}{img fileId="31016|31017|31018" responsive="y" stylebox="float: left; margin:15px;" desc="desc" width="280px" button="popup"}{BOX}
 

After Stieber graduated, he migrated from kitchen to kitchen in Atlanta. Restaurants on his resume include Restaurant Eugene, Holeman & Finch, and Empire State South, all of which employed Ryan Smith, now the chef/owner of Staplehouse. If you’re familiar with Smith’s brilliant work, you’ll instantly spot its influence in Stieber’s. The main difference, I think, is rigor. As I told a friend, Stieber’s cooking is what you would get if Hector Santiago fucked with Ryan Smith’s food. It’s a bit messier, compellingly so, but almost in a conversely studied way. Sort of like perfect “messy hair.” In fact, I jokingly accused Stieber of being OCD. He explained — elaborately — why he was not. 

 

Stieber doesn’t deny that his particular method — refined for seven years with Eat Me Speak Me — is risky, so that he’s constantly testing, tweaking, giving up, and restarting. But creativity always risks occasional failure and, even more painful, mediocrity. The only problem I had with my Little Bear experience was trivial — the effect of takeout itself. The crew arranges every dish in detail in its own sturdy black takeout box, so transferring anything to a plate is going to disrupt the beauty. I did find most of the food more tepid than I like, but we all know that hot food in a box ain’t pretty by the time you get it home. The restaurant also vends “Fernando’s Liver Stimulus Package” —  boutique wines, spritz kits, beer, and cider.

I suggest you order now, because when Donald Trump reopens the gates to Moneyland, you won’t get a table at Little Bear. __—CL—__

''Little Bear, 71-A Georgia Ave. S.E., 404-500-5396, littlebearatl.com. Open for takeout only, Wednesday–Sunday. You can order by phone, 10:30 a.m-8 p.m., for pickup 5-8 p.m. Vegetarian and vegan options are available when ordered a day in advance. The menu and photos are posted weekly to Twitter and Instagram, @littlebearatl. Unemployed restaurant workers who need a meal may DM chef de cuisine Jacob Armando via Instagram, @fourtimespicy. He is preparing and delivering free meals on Tuesday nights.''"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-05-11T19:35:46+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-05-11T19:57:26+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_freshness_days"]=>
  int(737)
  ["tracker_field_photos"]=>
  string(5) "31012"
  ["tracker_field_photos_names"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(8) "GRAZ B10"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filenames"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(13) "GRAZ__b10.jpg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filetypes"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "image/jpeg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_text"]=>
  string(8) "GRAZ B10"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoCredit"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoTitle"]=>
  string(231) "LITTLE BEAR: The nondescript exterior in Summerhill reflects the tamer side of Jarrett Stieber's carefully imperfect aesthetic. It's like the black takeout boxes that contain food fit for eating with your very best magic mushrooms."
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "245"
    [1]=>
    string(3) "620"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(7) "245 620"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_names"]=>
  string(14) "Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_paths"]=>
  string(23) "Content::Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "749"
    [1]=>
    string(3) "747"
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene_text"]=>
  string(7) "749 747"
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentLocation"]=>
  string(6) "0,0,18"
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentMiscCategories"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentFreeTags"]=>
  string(7) "grazing"
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "747"
  }
  ["tracker_field_section_text"]=>
  string(3) "747"
  ["tracker_field_section_names"]=>
  string(8) "HomePage"
  ["tracker_field_section_paths"]=>
  string(17) "Section::HomePage"
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "31012"
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(5) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
    [1]=>
    int(620)
    [2]=>
    int(747)
    [3]=>
    int(749)
    [4]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(12) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(245)
    [2]=>
    int(1182)
    [3]=>
    int(1477)
    [4]=>
    int(621)
    [5]=>
    int(620)
    [6]=>
    int(747)
    [7]=>
    int(743)
    [8]=>
    int(749)
    [9]=>
    int(28)
    [10]=>
    int(988)
    [11]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(988)
    [1]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(747)
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(6) {
    [0]=>
    int(1477)
    [1]=>
    int(621)
    [2]=>
    int(620)
    [3]=>
    int(747)
    [4]=>
    int(743)
    [5]=>
    int(749)
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "471"
  }
  ["freetags_text"]=>
  string(7) "grazing"
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["user_groups"]=>
  array(9) {
    [0]=>
    string(22) "Product Representative"
    [1]=>
    string(12) "Wiki Editors"
    [2]=>
    string(17) "CL Correspondents"
    [3]=>
    string(20) "Event Representative"
    [4]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [5]=>
    string(10) "CL Editors"
    [6]=>
    string(27) "Organization Representative"
    [7]=>
    string(18) "Account Executives"
    [8]=>
    string(7) "Artists"
  }
  ["user_followers"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "jonny"
    [1]=>
    string(14) "thevinylwarhol"
  }
  ["like_list"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(27) "tiki.file.attach:file:31012"
    [1]=>
    string(135) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:wiki page:Content:_:GRAZING: Little Bear: In planning for six years, open two weeks, currently takeout only"
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(16) "tiki.file.attach"
    [1]=>
    string(27) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert"
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(18) "tiki.file.attach:1"
    [1]=>
    string(29) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:1"
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "G"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(7) "GRAZING"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item470665"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "470665"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(11397) " GRAZ B10 LITTLE BEAR: The nondescript exterior in Summerhill reflects the tamer side of Jarrett Stieber's carefully imperfect aesthetic. It's like the black takeout boxes that contain food fit for eating with your very best magic mushrooms. Photo credit: Cliff Bostock 2020-05-11T17:50:48+00:00 GRAZ__b10.jpg     grazing Jarrett Stieber ‘radically’ transforms the dining experience GRAZ B10   2020-05-01T04:09:00+00:00  GRAZING: Little Bear: In planning for six years, open two weeks, currently takeout only jim.harris Jim Harris Cliff Bostock cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock) 2020-05-01T04:09:00+00:00 Every plague has its silver lining. For the first two weeks of March, I unsuccessfully tried to get a table at Jarrett Stieber’s greatly anticipated new restaurant, Little Bear, in Summerhill. Then the plague arrived and turned the restaurant — six years in the making — into a takeout joint. So, the silver lining is that you and I get to more easily score five or six courses of Stieber’s prix fixe menu. 

But that’s the only silver lining I’ve encountered lately. When I wrote my last column in March, the mayor had not yet locked down the city. Since then, the coronavirus has created a tsunami of misery, sweeping through all sectors of the economy. Layoffs, furloughs, cutbacks, closings, and firings have been especially difficult for restaurants. Most operate on a slim profit margin to begin with and — let’s be honest — most employees are poorly paid and living paycheck-to-paycheck. For many, it’s a transition or side job while they seek a more stable career opportunity. Since the crash, many forms of assistance, from free meals to fundraised cash, have become available to unemployed restaurant workers, but we are standing on the precipice of a second Great Recession, which caused reorganization of the entire economy. We’re likely destined again for a new “normal.”

As it happens, “normal” is not a word that would suit Jarrett Stieber, regardless of the economy. I, like most of Atlanta, have been intrigued by his cooking ever since he opened the pop-up, Eat Me Speak Me. He started out miserably unappreciated by the public at Candler Park Market and The General Muir in 2013. High points of that time included cooking blood sausage on a panini press and being overshadowed by matzoh balls. In 2014, he moved EMSM to Gato and it arguably become the city’s favorite pop-up. In 2017, he moved the operation to SOS Tiki Bar, which he vacated last year to get Little Bear rolling.

While many other restaurants have cut staff and turned to takeout, Stieber’s business is doing so well that he has not had to lay off any of his small crew or reduce pay. There are many reasons why. The food is of course the preeminent one. It’s often described as “whimsical.”  Stieber guesses that’s partly because of the menu’s humor. An example is the standing title of his shareable prix fixe menu: “Just fuck me up, fam’,” sarcastically referring to the true experience of family dining. The restaurant’s proprietor, by the way, is the greatly anthropomorphized Pyrenees mountain dog that Stieber and his wife Hallie own. His real name is Fernando but his nickname is, yes, Little Bear. (Please, no ABBA jokes.) Maybe the clearest example of linguistic whimsy is the front window’s announcement that the restaurant has won a rating of 2.5 tires from Michelin Tire Dining. It’s goofy but it all adds up to a pointedly satirical attitude toward the pretensions of fine dining.

The funny thing is that Stieber is a James Beard semifinalist and, on the surface, his food resembles contemporary fine dining: smallish plates of strictly local produce and proteins, unexpected flavor combinations, artful presentation. Consider the Spanish-inspired menu featured during the week I fetched a meal there. One dish was a rectangular portion of a Spanish-style tortilla made with baked eggs and mild turnips, covered with a “ropa vieja sauce” and “an egregious amount of olive oil.”  WTF is ropa vieja sauce? I’ve eaten a ton of ropa vieja, a favorite Cuban dish, but I don’t think of it as a Spanish dish or as a sauce. Stieber clarified in an email: “We thought it would be fun to include some flavors from places Spain forced their will on… Ropa vieja as more of a red-wine, braised meat gravy sauce to serve on another dish sounded fun to us.” So, there you have it: a classic tor-tilla that deliciously dishonors Spanish colonialism.


 

There were also the inevitable patatas bravas, but Stieber makes them with sweet potatoes, cooking them to addictive crispy-creamy perfection in a concoction of pork fat, coffee, and chili oil, then drizzled with aioli. The protein of the week was Catalan-style pork meatballs combined with a fetish of Catalonia — roasted green onions under salbitxada, a usually red sauce turned weirdly green by Stieber. The opening soup, caldo de Gallego, was absolutely the best version I’ve ever had. I opened the container and the odor of fennel blasted the room like the sins in Pandora’s box. It was made with red peas instead of white beans and was hellishly fiery. Stieber swears it wasn’t intentional, but the meal ended with a pastry, a pestiño — fried, honey-glazed dough flavored with benne and anise, which echoed the licorice flavor of the fennel that began the meal. It was apparently also coincidental that pestiños are only available during Christmas and Holy Week in Spain and were indeed served by Little Bear during Holy Week. The meal also included a stunning salad of gem lettuce, dill, radishes, and shavings of sharp idiazabal cheese, made from sheep’s milk. There was, finally, a second dessert of traditional almond cake, dusted with powdered sugar, allegedly flavored with strawberries.

 

So, what, besides the satirical approach, makes this food actually different from fine dining? For one significant thing, there’s the cost. The menu I’ve described was $55 for two. On the brink of recession, that may not sound inexpensive — and you better tip $15 minimum — but it’s as many as seven dishes of entirely local ingredients for two! Still, to me the truly notable thing is the artistry. Stieber, chef de cuisine Jacob Armando, and executive sous chef Trevor Vick work just the opposite of most kitchens. Instead of going shopping with a recipe, they go shopping and then dream up a recipe. Stieber describes the process: 

“The thought process for making a dish is pretty simple, actually. Unlike most restaurants, we order from the farms we buy from first, then use what we get to put together our menu instead of thinking of a dish then ordering whatever product we need to make it happen. So from there, we kind of use the ingredients like pieces in a puzzle so we can make dishes that have a balance of color, texture, and eye appeal. Usually the formula is basically to balance those elements, then make sure there’s something a little unusual or unique so that we can remain creative and stand out. That twist could be an unusual flavor combination, a different technique, or preparation for something which might be done a different way more often, etc. Another thing we like to do is layer condiments/sauces in our dishes so that every bite has the intended starting flavor of the dish, and you don’t have to struggle to get a solid bite, but, as you eat the dish and drag things around, elements mix together and create new flavors by the end.”

This is an impressive description of how creativity spurns originality, similar to the Greeks’ explanation. In their view creativity is not internally generated but arises outside of us. They personified that process as an encounter with the muse. In the same way, Stieber is saying that inspiration begins with the available ingredients. That’s often demonstrated as a game on the nightmare known as food TV, but the process is impossible to sustain in a high-volume restaurant, using ordinary ingredients. I don’t mean to suggest that Stieber is a complete savant. He’s been cooking half his life, having begun at 15 when he haunted Alon’s before getting a paid job there at 16. Also a musician, he enrolled at UNC-Asheville to study music recording but rapidly realized he wanted to continue playing and writing music, not engineering it. He came back to Atlanta, where his practical parents told him he was going to need a real job to back up his music making. So he landed at Le Cordon Bleu in Tucker. That was in 2007. While there, he got a job at Hector Santiago’s restaurant, Pura Vida, which was my favorite restaurant in the city during its few years of preternatural existence. It was there that Stieber learned how an uninhibited, inventive chef can radically transform the experience of dining.


 

After Stieber graduated, he migrated from kitchen to kitchen in Atlanta. Restaurants on his resume include Restaurant Eugene, Holeman & Finch, and Empire State South, all of which employed Ryan Smith, now the chef/owner of Staplehouse. If you’re familiar with Smith’s brilliant work, you’ll instantly spot its influence in Stieber’s. The main difference, I think, is rigor. As I told a friend, Stieber’s cooking is what you would get if Hector Santiago fucked with Ryan Smith’s food. It’s a bit messier, compellingly so, but almost in a conversely studied way. Sort of like perfect “messy hair.” In fact, I jokingly accused Stieber of being OCD. He explained — elaborately — why he was not. 

 

Stieber doesn’t deny that his particular method — refined for seven years with Eat Me Speak Me — is risky, so that he’s constantly testing, tweaking, giving up, and restarting. But creativity always risks occasional failure and, even more painful, mediocrity. The only problem I had with my Little Bear experience was trivial — the effect of takeout itself. The crew arranges every dish in detail in its own sturdy black takeout box, so transferring anything to a plate is going to disrupt the beauty. I did find most of the food more tepid than I like, but we all know that hot food in a box ain’t pretty by the time you get it home. The restaurant also vends “Fernando’s Liver Stimulus Package” —  boutique wines, spritz kits, beer, and cider.

I suggest you order now, because when Donald Trump reopens the gates to Moneyland, you won’t get a table at Little Bear. —CL—

Little Bear, 71-A Georgia Ave. S.E., 404-500-5396, littlebearatl.com. Open for takeout only, Wednesday–Sunday. You can order by phone, 10:30 a.m-8 p.m., for pickup 5-8 p.m. Vegetarian and vegan options are available when ordered a day in advance. The menu and photos are posted weekly to Twitter and Instagram, @littlebearatl. Unemployed restaurant workers who need a meal may DM chef de cuisine Jacob Armando via Instagram, @fourtimespicy. He is preparing and delivering free meals on Tuesday nights.    Cliff Bostock LITTLE BEAR: The nondescript exterior in Summerhill reflects the tamer side of Jarrett Stieber's carefully imperfect aesthetic. It's like the black takeout boxes that contain food fit for eating with your very best magic mushrooms.  0,0,18    grazing                       GRAZING: Little Bear: In planning for six years, open two weeks, currently takeout only "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(35) "atlantawiki_tiki_main_6285dce1d165e"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(265) " GRAZING: Little Bear: In planning for six years, open two weeks, currently takeout only"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(377) "

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(73) "Jarrett Stieber ‘radically’ transforms the dining experience"
  ["eventDate"]=>
  string(73) "Jarrett Stieber ‘radically’ transforms the dining experience"
  ["noads"]=>
  string(10) "y"
}

array(108) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(67) "GRAZING: Eat calmly: Your panic is weaponized by the authoritarians"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2022-02-01T14:25:36+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-04-06T15:34:01+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "ben.eason"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-04-06T15:32:15+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["parent_object_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["parent_object_type"]=>
  string(7) "tracker"
  ["field_permissions"]=>
  string(2) "[]"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(67) "GRAZING: Eat calmly: Your panic is weaponized by the authoritarians"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator"]=>
  string(10) "jim.harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_text"]=>
  string(10) "Jim Harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_unstemmed"]=>
  string(10) "jim harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "476087"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(33) "cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock)"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2020-04-06T15:32:15+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(77) "Content:_:GRAZING: Eat calmly: Your panic is weaponized by the authoritarians"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(9979) "It’s hard to write enthusiastically about restaurants when they’ve become precarious stages for a public health drama. As I am writing this, Mayor Bill de Blasio has ordered New York City restaurants and bars to close and, just as I turn this in, Mayor Keisha Lance Bottoms has mandated the same for Atlanta. The coronavirus pandemic is causing mass hysteria unlike any most Americans have seen since 9/11.

It will get better. I am unfortunately old enough that I remember several scary national dramas. One that keeps coming to mind is the Cuban Missile Crisis, when neighbors were building fallout shelters to survive a nuclear attack by the Soviet Russians. Like now, everyone was hiding at home except to rush to the grocery store to buy canned food to eat while the expected radiation kept them underground. Many parents kept their kids out of school for a few weeks. Years later, it was clear that the nuclear flames of catastrophe were greatly fanned by our government’s lack of preparedness and its wounded ego. Sound familiar? Fast forward to the early ’80s and we had a president — a showman like today’s — who ignored the AIDS epidemic for several years, giving the disease a head start. Conservatives, backed by evangelicals, used the crisis they first ignored to validate their homophobia and authoritarianism, even threatening to put gay men in concentration camps. That is what worries me most. Authoritarians like Trump amplify crisis and fear to seize more power. Trump is gloating, for example, because the crisis has led the Fed to feed his greed.

My apocalyptic political fears aside, what are reasonable responses? A growing number of states and municipalities have closed restaurants and bars, but not entirely. It’s important to keep in mind that it’s not food itself that poses a hazard. The closings are mainly related to the need to create “social distance” to reduce the ease of transmission. Thus, customers suffer no risk by ordering food to go or for delivery. Many restaurants that did remain open for full service before the mayor’s decision, had taken precautions, such as clearing space by reducing the number of tables, and radically increasing sanitation practices. When I sat at Starbucks soon after the panic began, staff members were wiping tables clean every 30 minutes. Nonetheless, an employee told me that the iconic coffee shop may limit business to window takeout (like so many others). [On March 21, Starbucks issued the following statement: “We have temporarily closed our in-store cafes, but select grocery and drive-thru locations remain open. Starbucks Delivers on Uber Eats is also available in select markets. Visit our store locator for the latest store hours and open locations. — editor]

It’s also important to keep in mind that a radical reduction in clientele has devastating effects in an industry with a relatively narrow profit margin. Too many restaurants are employing the well-known tactic of denial. When I asked Jason Hill, owner-chef of Wisteria, if he had lost business as of March 15, he said, “We all have. Anyone who says different is lying.” He is nonetheless optimistic, noting that people have emptied grocery stores. “Because of that alone, we will all be slow for a few days.” He hopes diners will return, at least for take-out, when their cupboards are bare and their panic has subsided. Meanwhile, please don’t fall for creepy offers of $40 hand sanitizers or buy discount coupons for restaurant meals without calling ahead.

If you want a view of the way people in the industry are being affected personally, check out Bon Appetit’s ongoing reports from industry workers on their website. One of the writers is the always pull-no-punches Deborah VanTrece, owner-chef of Twisted Soul in Atlanta. She explains that she is at high risk herself because of asthma. While dealing with the duress of that, she saw her reservations drop 60 percent. Many report even greater loss of catering gigs. I’ve heard these complaints from other restaurateurs but they often are quickly followed with — I’m paraphrasing — a statement like, “Please don’t identify me; I don’t want to discourage customers and employees with disastrous predictions.”

VanTrece, however, points eloquently to the possibly immense personal cost of the epidemic: “Emotionally, I’m like, ‘What the fuck? What the fuck?’ To have gone through all I’ve gone through: trying to get a brick and mortar opened in the first place, being an African American woman in a man’s field, fighting my way through that to get into a position of respect and being able to mentor others, figuring out where the money’s gonna come from, struggling to survive the past few years, looking for good employees. Finally I’m up there at the top of my game. Who could’ve imagined a virus might be the thing to take small businesses like mine out of the game?”

It’s particularly difficult to see the way restaurant closings and cutbacks threaten the general well-being of industry workers. They are at high risk of infection, of course, but they are also notoriously low-paid, so losing hours has a quick and dramatic effect on many. One source of assistance to food service workers in crisis is Giving Kitchen (404-254-1227, #givingkitchen). The organization has invited those diagnosed with coronavirus in need of financial assistance to contact them quickly. They can also help those who have otherwise been affected by the epidemic. Giving Kitchen has assisted more than 4,000 workers since 2012, and I urge you to make a contribution.

A source of news and advice for staff and customers alike, is a new social media campaign, #AtlRestaurantsUnite, created by restaurant owners. You’ll find tips on everything from maintaining financial stability to creating social distance inside a restaurant. [https://garestaurants.org|The Georgia Restaurant Association provides industry updates. The incredibly prolific Beth McKibben of Eater Atlanta has been reporting the epidemic’s effects virtually minute-by-minute.

This will pass. The consequences may be overwhelming. Some estimates of infection — not death! — run as high as 60 percent of the population. Please help by continuing to patronize restaurants in any way you can (did I mention gift cards?). Make donations. Restaurants and bars have made Atlanta a vibrant city. If you act out of fear instead of kindness and reason, you will fuel those of our society who enlarge fiscal and political power by scapegoating and lying.



GOING LATINO

I’ve hit two new Latino spots in the last month. First up is My Abuelas (“Our Grandmothers”), a Puerto-Rican café at the Spindle Kitchen. The owner-chefs are Luis Martinez and Monica Martinez, who have been hosting pop-ups for nearly two years. If you’re not familiar with the Spindle, it’s a bike shop attached to a dining space in the Studioplex. It has hosted innumerable pop-ups and short-term tenants, but My Abuelas will be there for a year.

My Abuelas is not the first Puerto Rican venue in Atlanta. Hector Santiago of Pura Vida (R.I.P.), El Super Pan, and the new (more Mexican) El Burro Pollo set the bar here, but My Abuelas may give him a run for the money. The Abuelas menu is brief and changes frequently. During my recent visit, three entrees were offered. Two of them were vegetarian lasagna (pastelon), one vegan and one not. The third entrée, which my companion and I both ordered, was pernil — marinated, roasted pork. It was super juicy but I missed the crunchy skin that usually distinguishes the dish. It was served with tasty red beans and rice and basically tasteless, dry tostones. I have to say that the kitchen needs to work on presentation. Our (paper) plates were dominated by the bowl of rice and beans, while the pernil seemed to be hiding off to the side, masquerading as a smooth stone. It proved to be a larger portion than it looked. And that’s a good thing, given that the entrees are $15 each. Part of that is due to the restaurant’s use of sourced ingredients.

You can easily reduce the cost by grazing on starters and sweets. I ordered a chicken empanada that was huge and — no joke — among the best I’ve ever eaten. Others are available stuffed with meat or a meat substitute. Two of these would make an adequate lunch — especially if you order dessert, which you should. La Dolce Madness, a bakery, has joined My Abuelas at the Spindle. Definitely try the tres leches, a huge serving that you will devour all on your own. Because of a mix-up in our orders, Monica Martinez gave me a free, cakey pastry with, I think, a guava topping. It deserves praise, but I can’t imagine anything better than the tres leches.
My Abuelas, 659 Auburn Ave., 404-823-2046 thespindleatl.com

I’ve also visited Lazy Llama Cantina, a Tex-Mex pub that has replaced Hobnob at the corner of Piedmont and Monroe. Although I was annoyed that nobody could explain the name of the place, I did like most of the food. Consulting chef Jeffrey Gardner has created a menu of impressive tacos. I especially recommend the al pastor and the carne asada. These, like everything else, are composed in the kitchen so that you don’t get to ruin them by dumping, say, red sauce on top of green sauce fetched from a salsa bar.

I also liked a gigantic quesadilla filled with charred corn, browned mushrooms, red and green peppers, and a very small amount of cheese. I’ve sampled one dessert — the churros. They are fried until super-crunchy and served with chocolate and caramel sauces. The bar has a gigantic menu of tequilas, and the staff is great. They serve brunch on weekends, and there are regular nightly events. There are 20 TV screens for watching sports and about 12 portraits of llamas you can talk to after the mescal kicks in.
Lazy Llama, 1551 Piedmont Ave., 404-968-2288, lazyllamacantina.com"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(10303) "It’s hard to write enthusiastically about restaurants when they’ve become precarious stages for a public health drama. As I am writing this, Mayor Bill de Blasio has ordered New York City restaurants and bars to close and, just as I turn this in, Mayor Keisha Lance Bottoms has mandated the same for Atlanta. The coronavirus pandemic is causing mass hysteria unlike any most Americans have seen since 9/11.

It will get better. I am unfortunately old enough that I remember several scary national dramas. One that keeps coming to mind is the Cuban Missile Crisis, when neighbors were building fallout shelters to survive a nuclear attack by the Soviet Russians. Like now, everyone was hiding at home except to rush to the grocery store to buy canned food to eat while the expected radiation kept them underground. Many parents kept their kids out of school for a few weeks. Years later, it was clear that the nuclear flames of catastrophe were greatly fanned by our government’s lack of preparedness and its wounded ego. Sound familiar? Fast forward to the early ’80s and we had a president — a showman like today’s — who ignored the AIDS epidemic for several years, giving the disease a head start. Conservatives, backed by evangelicals, used the crisis they first ignored to validate their homophobia and authoritarianism, even threatening to put gay men in concentration camps. That is what worries me most. Authoritarians like Trump amplify crisis and fear to seize more power. Trump is gloating, for example, because the crisis has led the Fed to feed his greed.

My apocalyptic political fears aside, what are reasonable responses? A growing number of states and municipalities have closed restaurants and bars, but not entirely. It’s important to keep in mind that it’s not food itself that poses a hazard. The closings are mainly related to the need to create “social distance” to reduce the ease of transmission. Thus, customers suffer no risk by ordering food to go or for delivery. Many restaurants that did remain open for full service before the mayor’s decision, had taken precautions, such as clearing space by reducing the number of tables, and radically increasing sanitation practices. When I sat at Starbucks soon after the panic began, staff members were wiping tables clean every 30 minutes. Nonetheless, an employee told me that the iconic coffee shop may limit business to window takeout (like so many others). [[On March 21, Starbucks issued the following statement: “We have temporarily closed our in-store cafes, but select grocery and drive-thru locations remain open. Starbucks Delivers on Uber Eats is also available in select markets. Visit our store locator for the latest store hours and open locations. — editor]

It’s also important to keep in mind that a radical reduction in clientele has devastating effects in an industry with a relatively narrow profit margin. Too many restaurants are employing the well-known tactic of denial. When I asked Jason Hill, owner-chef of Wisteria, if he had lost business as of March 15, he said, “We all have. Anyone who says different is lying.” He is nonetheless optimistic, noting that people have emptied grocery stores. “Because of that alone, we will all be slow for a few days.” He hopes diners will return, at least for take-out, when their cupboards are bare and their panic has subsided. Meanwhile, please don’t fall for creepy offers of $40 hand sanitizers or buy discount coupons for restaurant meals without calling ahead.

If you want a view of the way people in the industry are being affected personally, check out [bonappetit.com/story/food-businesses-covid-19|''Bon Appetit''’s ongoing reports from industry workers on their website]. One of the writers is the always pull-no-punches Deborah VanTrece, owner-chef of Twisted Soul in Atlanta. She explains that she is at high risk herself because of asthma. While dealing with the duress of that, she saw her reservations drop 60 percent. Many report even greater loss of catering gigs. I’ve heard these complaints from other restaurateurs but they often are quickly followed with — I’m paraphrasing — a statement like, “Please don’t identify me; I don’t want to discourage customers and employees with disastrous predictions.”

VanTrece, however, points eloquently to the possibly immense personal cost of the epidemic: “Emotionally, I’m like, ‘What the fuck? What the ''fuck?’'' To have gone through all I’ve gone through: trying to get a brick and mortar opened in the first place, being an African American woman in a man’s field, fighting my way through that to get into a position of respect and being able to mentor others, figuring out where the money’s gonna come from, struggling to survive the past few years, looking for good employees. Finally I’m up there at the top of my game. Who could’ve imagined a ''virus'' might be the thing to take small businesses like mine out of the game?”

It’s particularly difficult to see the way restaurant closings and cutbacks threaten the general well-being of industry workers. They are at high risk of infection, of course, but they are also notoriously low-paid, so losing hours has a quick and dramatic effect on many. One source of assistance to food service workers in crisis is Giving Kitchen (404-254-1227, #givingkitchen). The organization has invited those diagnosed with coronavirus in need of financial assistance to contact them quickly. They can also help those who have otherwise been affected by the epidemic. Giving Kitchen has assisted more than 4,000 workers since 2012, and I urge you to make a contribution.

A source of news and advice for staff and customers alike, is a new social media campaign, #AtlRestaurantsUnite, created by restaurant owners. You’ll find tips on everything from maintaining financial stability to creating social distance inside a restaurant. [https://garestaurants.org|The Georgia Restaurant Association provides industry updates. The incredibly prolific Beth McKibben of [http://atlanta.eater.com|Eater Atlanta] has been reporting the epidemic’s effects virtually minute-by-minute.

This will pass. The consequences may be overwhelming. Some estimates of infection — not death! — run as high as 60 percent of the population. Please help by continuing to patronize restaurants in any way you can (did I mention gift cards?). Make donations. Restaurants and bars have made Atlanta a vibrant city. If you act out of fear instead of kindness and reason, you will fuel those of our society who enlarge fiscal and political power by scapegoating and lying.

{BOX( bg="#66bfff" width="100%")}{img fileId="30458|30459|30460" responsive="y" stylebox="float: left; margin:15px;" desc="desc" width="240px" button="popup"}{BOX}

GOING LATINO

I’ve hit two new Latino spots in the last month. First up is __My Abuelas__ (“Our Grandmothers”), a Puerto-Rican café at the Spindle Kitchen. The owner-chefs are Luis Martinez and Monica Martinez, who have been hosting pop-ups for nearly two years. If you’re not familiar with the Spindle, it’s a bike shop attached to a dining space in the Studioplex. It has hosted innumerable pop-ups and short-term tenants, but My Abuelas will be there for a year.

My Abuelas is not the first Puerto Rican venue in Atlanta. Hector Santiago of Pura Vida (R.I.P.), El Super Pan, and the new (more Mexican) El Burro Pollo set the bar here, but My Abuelas may give him a run for the money. The Abuelas menu is brief and changes frequently. During my recent visit, three entrees were offered. Two of them were vegetarian lasagna (pastelon), one vegan and one not. The third entrée, which my companion and I both ordered, was pernil — marinated, roasted pork. It was super juicy but I missed the crunchy skin that usually distinguishes the dish. It was served with tasty red beans and rice and basically tasteless, dry tostones. I have to say that the kitchen needs to work on presentation. Our (paper) plates were dominated by the bowl of rice and beans, while the pernil seemed to be hiding off to the side, masquerading as a smooth stone. It proved to be a larger portion than it looked. And that’s a good thing, given that the entrees are $15 each. Part of that is due to the restaurant’s use of sourced ingredients.

You can easily reduce the cost by grazing on starters and sweets. I ordered a chicken empanada that was huge and — no joke — among the best I’ve ever eaten. Others are available stuffed with meat or a meat substitute. Two of these would make an adequate lunch — especially if you order dessert, which you should. La Dolce Madness, a bakery, has joined My Abuelas at the Spindle. Definitely try the tres leches, a huge serving that you will devour all on your own. Because of a mix-up in our orders, Monica Martinez gave me a free, cakey pastry with, I think, a guava topping. It deserves praise, but I can’t imagine anything better than the tres leches.
''My Abuelas, 659 Auburn Ave., 404-823-2046 [http://thespindleatl.com|thespindleatl.com]''

I’ve also visited __Lazy Llama Cantina__, a Tex-Mex pub that has replaced Hobnob at the corner of Piedmont and Monroe. Although I was annoyed that nobody could explain the name of the place, I did like most of the food. Consulting chef Jeffrey Gardner has created a menu of impressive tacos. I especially recommend the al pastor and the carne asada. These, like everything else, are composed in the kitchen so that you don’t get to ruin them by dumping, say, red sauce on top of green sauce fetched from a salsa bar.

I also liked a gigantic quesadilla filled with charred corn, browned mushrooms, red and green peppers, and a very small amount of cheese. I’ve sampled one dessert — the churros. They are fried until super-crunchy and served with chocolate and caramel sauces. The bar has a gigantic menu of tequilas, and the staff is great. They serve brunch on weekends, and there are regular nightly events. There are 20 TV screens for watching sports and about 12 portraits of llamas you can talk to after the mescal kicks in.
''Lazy Llama, 1551 Piedmont Ave., 404-968-2288, [http://lazyllamacantina.com|lazyllamacantina.com]''"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-04-06T15:34:01+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-04-06T17:22:11+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_freshness_days"]=>
  int(772)
  ["tracker_field_photos"]=>
  string(5) "30457"
  ["tracker_field_photos_names"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(44) "My Abuelas Restaurant at the Spindle Kitchen"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filenames"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(35) "GRAZ_G9JLrQx8THuvzjIDZDLq0A_web.jpg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filetypes"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "image/jpeg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_text"]=>
  string(44) "My Abuelas Restaurant at the Spindle Kitchen"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoCredit"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoTitle"]=>
  string(62) "PUERTO RICAN PRIDE: The interior of My Abuelas at The Spindle."
  ["tracker_field_breadcrumb"]=>
  string(1) "0"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "245"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "245"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_names"]=>
  string(14) "Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_paths"]=>
  string(23) "Content::Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentLocation"]=>
  string(6) "0,0,10"
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations"]=>
  string(94) "trackeritem:470520
trackeritem:470521
trackeritem:470525
trackeritem:470524
trackeritem:470526"
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(5) {
    [0]=>
    string(18) "trackeritem:470520"
    [1]=>
    string(18) "trackeritem:470521"
    [2]=>
    string(18) "trackeritem:470525"
    [3]=>
    string(18) "trackeritem:470524"
    [4]=>
    string(18) "trackeritem:470526"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_plain"]=>
  string(232) "jason.hill (itemId:470520 trackerid:9), deborah.vantrece (itemId:470521 trackerid:9), monica.martinez (itemId:470525 trackerid:9), My Abuelas @ Spindle Kitchen (itemId:470524 trackerid:1), hector.santiago (itemId:470526 trackerid:9)"
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_text"]=>
  string(235) "jason.hill (itemId:470520 trackerid:9), deborah.vantrece (itemId:470521 trackerid:9), monica.martinez (itemId:470525 trackerid:9), My Abuelas @ Spindle Kitchen (itemId:470524 trackerid:1) and hector.santiago (itemId:470526 trackerid:9)"
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages"]=>
  string(29) "wiki page:cl issue april 2020"
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(29) "wiki page:cl issue april 2020"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_plain"]=>
  string(19) "cl issue april 2020"
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_text"]=>
  string(19) "cl issue april 2020"
  ["tracker_field_contentMiscCategories"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentFreeTags"]=>
  string(7) "grazing"
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "620"
  }
  ["tracker_field_section_text"]=>
  string(3) "620"
  ["tracker_field_section_names"]=>
  string(7) "Grazing"
  ["tracker_field_section_paths"]=>
  string(46) "Section::Print Features::Food Feature::Grazing"
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "30457"
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
    [1]=>
    int(620)
    [2]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(9) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(245)
    [2]=>
    int(1182)
    [3]=>
    int(1477)
    [4]=>
    int(621)
    [5]=>
    int(620)
    [6]=>
    int(28)
    [7]=>
    int(988)
    [8]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(988)
    [1]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(1477)
    [1]=>
    int(621)
    [2]=>
    int(620)
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "471"
  }
  ["freetags_text"]=>
  string(7) "grazing"
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["user_groups"]=>
  array(9) {
    [0]=>
    string(22) "Product Representative"
    [1]=>
    string(12) "Wiki Editors"
    [2]=>
    string(17) "CL Correspondents"
    [3]=>
    string(20) "Event Representative"
    [4]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [5]=>
    string(10) "CL Editors"
    [6]=>
    string(27) "Organization Representative"
    [7]=>
    string(18) "Account Executives"
    [8]=>
    string(7) "Artists"
  }
  ["user_followers"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "jonny"
    [1]=>
    string(14) "thevinylwarhol"
  }
  ["like_list"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(13) {
    [0]=>
    string(27) "tiki.file.attach:file:30457"
    [1]=>
    string(40) "content.related.items:trackeritem:470520"
    [2]=>
    string(40) "content.related.items:trackeritem:470521"
    [3]=>
    string(40) "content.related.items:trackeritem:470525"
    [4]=>
    string(40) "content.related.items:trackeritem:470524"
    [5]=>
    string(40) "content.related.items:trackeritem:470526"
    [6]=>
    string(49) "items.related.pages:wiki page:cl issue april 2020"
    [7]=>
    string(115) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:wiki page:Content:_:GRAZING: Eat calmly: Your panic is weaponized by the authoritarians"
    [8]=>
    string(43) "clatl.business.links.invert:trackeritem:278"
    [9]=>
    string(46) "clatl.business.links.invert:trackeritem:470522"
    [10]=>
    string(46) "clatl.business.links.invert:trackeritem:470524"
    [11]=>
    string(46) "clatl.business.links.invert:trackeritem:470527"
    [12]=>
    string(46) "clatl.business.links.invert:trackeritem:470528"
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(5) {
    [0]=>
    string(16) "tiki.file.attach"
    [1]=>
    string(21) "content.related.items"
    [2]=>
    string(19) "items.related.pages"
    [3]=>
    string(27) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert"
    [4]=>
    string(27) "clatl.business.links.invert"
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(5) {
    [0]=>
    string(18) "tiki.file.attach:1"
    [1]=>
    string(23) "content.related.items:5"
    [2]=>
    string(21) "items.related.pages:1"
    [3]=>
    string(29) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:1"
    [4]=>
    string(29) "clatl.business.links.invert:5"
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "G"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(7) "GRAZING"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item470406"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "470406"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(10870) " My Abuelas Restaurant at the Spindle Kitchen PUERTO RICAN PRIDE: The interior of My Abuelas at The Spindle. Photo credit: Cliff Bostock 2020-04-06T16:00:58+00:00 GRAZ_G9JLrQx8THuvzjIDZDLq0A_web.jpg     grazing  My Abuelas Restaurant at the Spindle Kitchen   2020-04-06T15:32:15+00:00  GRAZING: Eat calmly: Your panic is weaponized by the authoritarians jim.harris Jim Harris Cliff Bostock cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock) 2020-04-06T15:32:15+00:00 It’s hard to write enthusiastically about restaurants when they’ve become precarious stages for a public health drama. As I am writing this, Mayor Bill de Blasio has ordered New York City restaurants and bars to close and, just as I turn this in, Mayor Keisha Lance Bottoms has mandated the same for Atlanta. The coronavirus pandemic is causing mass hysteria unlike any most Americans have seen since 9/11.

It will get better. I am unfortunately old enough that I remember several scary national dramas. One that keeps coming to mind is the Cuban Missile Crisis, when neighbors were building fallout shelters to survive a nuclear attack by the Soviet Russians. Like now, everyone was hiding at home except to rush to the grocery store to buy canned food to eat while the expected radiation kept them underground. Many parents kept their kids out of school for a few weeks. Years later, it was clear that the nuclear flames of catastrophe were greatly fanned by our government’s lack of preparedness and its wounded ego. Sound familiar? Fast forward to the early ’80s and we had a president — a showman like today’s — who ignored the AIDS epidemic for several years, giving the disease a head start. Conservatives, backed by evangelicals, used the crisis they first ignored to validate their homophobia and authoritarianism, even threatening to put gay men in concentration camps. That is what worries me most. Authoritarians like Trump amplify crisis and fear to seize more power. Trump is gloating, for example, because the crisis has led the Fed to feed his greed.

My apocalyptic political fears aside, what are reasonable responses? A growing number of states and municipalities have closed restaurants and bars, but not entirely. It’s important to keep in mind that it’s not food itself that poses a hazard. The closings are mainly related to the need to create “social distance” to reduce the ease of transmission. Thus, customers suffer no risk by ordering food to go or for delivery. Many restaurants that did remain open for full service before the mayor’s decision, had taken precautions, such as clearing space by reducing the number of tables, and radically increasing sanitation practices. When I sat at Starbucks soon after the panic began, staff members were wiping tables clean every 30 minutes. Nonetheless, an employee told me that the iconic coffee shop may limit business to window takeout (like so many others). [On March 21, Starbucks issued the following statement: “We have temporarily closed our in-store cafes, but select grocery and drive-thru locations remain open. Starbucks Delivers on Uber Eats is also available in select markets. Visit our store locator for the latest store hours and open locations. — editor]

It’s also important to keep in mind that a radical reduction in clientele has devastating effects in an industry with a relatively narrow profit margin. Too many restaurants are employing the well-known tactic of denial. When I asked Jason Hill, owner-chef of Wisteria, if he had lost business as of March 15, he said, “We all have. Anyone who says different is lying.” He is nonetheless optimistic, noting that people have emptied grocery stores. “Because of that alone, we will all be slow for a few days.” He hopes diners will return, at least for take-out, when their cupboards are bare and their panic has subsided. Meanwhile, please don’t fall for creepy offers of $40 hand sanitizers or buy discount coupons for restaurant meals without calling ahead.

If you want a view of the way people in the industry are being affected personally, check out Bon Appetit’s ongoing reports from industry workers on their website. One of the writers is the always pull-no-punches Deborah VanTrece, owner-chef of Twisted Soul in Atlanta. She explains that she is at high risk herself because of asthma. While dealing with the duress of that, she saw her reservations drop 60 percent. Many report even greater loss of catering gigs. I’ve heard these complaints from other restaurateurs but they often are quickly followed with — I’m paraphrasing — a statement like, “Please don’t identify me; I don’t want to discourage customers and employees with disastrous predictions.”

VanTrece, however, points eloquently to the possibly immense personal cost of the epidemic: “Emotionally, I’m like, ‘What the fuck? What the fuck?’ To have gone through all I’ve gone through: trying to get a brick and mortar opened in the first place, being an African American woman in a man’s field, fighting my way through that to get into a position of respect and being able to mentor others, figuring out where the money’s gonna come from, struggling to survive the past few years, looking for good employees. Finally I’m up there at the top of my game. Who could’ve imagined a virus might be the thing to take small businesses like mine out of the game?”

It’s particularly difficult to see the way restaurant closings and cutbacks threaten the general well-being of industry workers. They are at high risk of infection, of course, but they are also notoriously low-paid, so losing hours has a quick and dramatic effect on many. One source of assistance to food service workers in crisis is Giving Kitchen (404-254-1227, #givingkitchen). The organization has invited those diagnosed with coronavirus in need of financial assistance to contact them quickly. They can also help those who have otherwise been affected by the epidemic. Giving Kitchen has assisted more than 4,000 workers since 2012, and I urge you to make a contribution.

A source of news and advice for staff and customers alike, is a new social media campaign, #AtlRestaurantsUnite, created by restaurant owners. You’ll find tips on everything from maintaining financial stability to creating social distance inside a restaurant. [https://garestaurants.org|The Georgia Restaurant Association provides industry updates. The incredibly prolific Beth McKibben of Eater Atlanta has been reporting the epidemic’s effects virtually minute-by-minute.

This will pass. The consequences may be overwhelming. Some estimates of infection — not death! — run as high as 60 percent of the population. Please help by continuing to patronize restaurants in any way you can (did I mention gift cards?). Make donations. Restaurants and bars have made Atlanta a vibrant city. If you act out of fear instead of kindness and reason, you will fuel those of our society who enlarge fiscal and political power by scapegoating and lying.



GOING LATINO

I’ve hit two new Latino spots in the last month. First up is My Abuelas (“Our Grandmothers”), a Puerto-Rican café at the Spindle Kitchen. The owner-chefs are Luis Martinez and Monica Martinez, who have been hosting pop-ups for nearly two years. If you’re not familiar with the Spindle, it’s a bike shop attached to a dining space in the Studioplex. It has hosted innumerable pop-ups and short-term tenants, but My Abuelas will be there for a year.

My Abuelas is not the first Puerto Rican venue in Atlanta. Hector Santiago of Pura Vida (R.I.P.), El Super Pan, and the new (more Mexican) El Burro Pollo set the bar here, but My Abuelas may give him a run for the money. The Abuelas menu is brief and changes frequently. During my recent visit, three entrees were offered. Two of them were vegetarian lasagna (pastelon), one vegan and one not. The third entrée, which my companion and I both ordered, was pernil — marinated, roasted pork. It was super juicy but I missed the crunchy skin that usually distinguishes the dish. It was served with tasty red beans and rice and basically tasteless, dry tostones. I have to say that the kitchen needs to work on presentation. Our (paper) plates were dominated by the bowl of rice and beans, while the pernil seemed to be hiding off to the side, masquerading as a smooth stone. It proved to be a larger portion than it looked. And that’s a good thing, given that the entrees are $15 each. Part of that is due to the restaurant’s use of sourced ingredients.

You can easily reduce the cost by grazing on starters and sweets. I ordered a chicken empanada that was huge and — no joke — among the best I’ve ever eaten. Others are available stuffed with meat or a meat substitute. Two of these would make an adequate lunch — especially if you order dessert, which you should. La Dolce Madness, a bakery, has joined My Abuelas at the Spindle. Definitely try the tres leches, a huge serving that you will devour all on your own. Because of a mix-up in our orders, Monica Martinez gave me a free, cakey pastry with, I think, a guava topping. It deserves praise, but I can’t imagine anything better than the tres leches.
My Abuelas, 659 Auburn Ave., 404-823-2046 thespindleatl.com

I’ve also visited Lazy Llama Cantina, a Tex-Mex pub that has replaced Hobnob at the corner of Piedmont and Monroe. Although I was annoyed that nobody could explain the name of the place, I did like most of the food. Consulting chef Jeffrey Gardner has created a menu of impressive tacos. I especially recommend the al pastor and the carne asada. These, like everything else, are composed in the kitchen so that you don’t get to ruin them by dumping, say, red sauce on top of green sauce fetched from a salsa bar.

I also liked a gigantic quesadilla filled with charred corn, browned mushrooms, red and green peppers, and a very small amount of cheese. I’ve sampled one dessert — the churros. They are fried until super-crunchy and served with chocolate and caramel sauces. The bar has a gigantic menu of tequilas, and the staff is great. They serve brunch on weekends, and there are regular nightly events. There are 20 TV screens for watching sports and about 12 portraits of llamas you can talk to after the mescal kicks in.
Lazy Llama, 1551 Piedmont Ave., 404-968-2288, lazyllamacantina.com    Cliff Bostock PUERTO RICAN PRIDE: The interior of My Abuelas at The Spindle.  0,0,10 jason.hill (itemId:470520 trackerid:9), deborah.vantrece (itemId:470521 trackerid:9), monica.martinez (itemId:470525 trackerid:9), My Abuelas @ Spindle Kitchen (itemId:470524 trackerid:1), hector.santiago (itemId:470526 trackerid:9)  cl issue april 2020 grazing                       GRAZING: Eat calmly: Your panic is weaponized by the authoritarians "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(35) "atlantawiki_tiki_main_6285dce1d165e"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(245) " GRAZING: Eat calmly: Your panic is weaponized by the authoritarians"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(208) "

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(32) "No description provided"
  ["eventDate"]=>
  string(32) "No description provided"
  ["noads"]=>
  string(10) "y"
}

array(100) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(26) "GRAZING: Sketches of Spain"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-09-27T21:16:51+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-03-02T21:11:30+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "ben.eason"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-03-02T21:08:27+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["parent_object_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["parent_object_type"]=>
  string(7) "tracker"
  ["field_permissions"]=>
  string(2) "[]"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(26) "GRAZING: Sketches of Spain"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator"]=>
  string(10) "jim.harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_text"]=>
  string(10) "Jim Harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_unstemmed"]=>
  string(10) "jim harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "476087"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(33) "cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock)"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(86) "The good life invades the BeltLine, Mamak offers vegan, the Harp spurts 40 intoxicants"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(86) "The good life invades the BeltLine, Mamak offers vegan, the Harp spurts 40 intoxicants"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2020-03-02T21:08:27+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(36) "Content:_:GRAZING: Sketches of Spain"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(8324) "Almost 20 years ago, on September 12, 2001, I was sitting in my favorite café in Seville, feeling very lonely after the horrifying events of the preceding day. The chef came out of the kitchen with a plate of ham and a newspaper. He sat at the table, telling me how happy he was to see me and asked how I was feeling. I told him I was numb. He opened the newspaper to show me page after page of the devastation that had occurred the day before at the World Trade Center in New York City. I was completely unnerved. Soon, other customers gathered around the table, looking at the pictures. Five or six of them sat down, and for the next few hours we grazed and talked about America. 


I wanted more than anything to move to Spain. That’s where, as I’ve often put it, I felt more like myself than anywhere else. An avalanche of obligations — that plus the Euro — made moving impossible, but Spain remains the place where my imagination still roves. For that reason, it’s always a bit difficult for me to visit a restaurant here that features Spanish food. In the same way immigrants are never quite content with restaurant versions of the food their mothers cooked back home, nostalgia makes me hypercritical.

For many years, it was virtually impossible to find Spanish food in Atlanta. Now, it’s not so hard. The latest restaurant to open is Buena Vida Tapas & Sol. Most of the Spanish venues here seem to emphasize the cuisine of Barcelona and the Basque region. Buena Vida draws its inspiration from southern Spain — from Ibiza off the eastern coast and from the interior region, Andalusia, where Seville is located. It’s where flamenco originated; where Moors, Christians, and Jews coexisted, especially aesthetically; and where the poet and playwright Federico Garcia Lorca lived. It’s hot as hell most of the year and that, I assume, explains “the sol” — the sun — of the restaurant’s name. 

I could hardly wait to visit. After two foiled attempts, I finally made it on a Sunday afternoon when, alas, the extensive tapas menu is radically abbreviated for a brunch menu featuring fusion entrees like shrimp and grits. There are a couple of appealing dishes made with morcilla (blood sausage), such as the hash with piquillo peppers, sweet potatoes, mushroom confit, poached eggs, and Hollandaise. Tempting, but I was there for tapas and did manage to find some classics that are also on the dinner menu. My favorite was the croquetas — four crunchy-fried orbs filled with a luxuriously creamy béchamel in which diced Serrano and Iberico ham were suspended. They were dotted with a smoky, slightly tangy pimentón (paprika) aioli. You’re probably going to be a bit annoyed that the ham isn’t more substantial, but understand that this dish originated to make use of scraps of meat. In any case, believe me, the ham’s taste will come forward after a few bites. I’m not sure why two varieties of ham are used — Iberico is the more exotic and costly — but it reminded me of the many plates of ham I ate at that café in Seville. The owner/chef knew the pedigree of every pig — where it was raised, what it was fed, how long it had lived. If you want a more generous taste of a variety of hams, you can order a plate of it along with cheeses at Buena Vida.

Another tapa that is ubiquitous is the Spanish-style tortilla — a wedge of a thick, browned omelet usually packed with creamy potatoes. Here, the kitchen uses a changing variety of vegetables in addition to the potatoes — namely red peppers, zucchini, onions, and kale during my visit. The omelet was topped with a spoonful of intensely aromatic aioli that drizzled into a pool on the chive-scattered plate. Next up was a serving of three piquillos stuffed with Georgia goat cheese. You’re going to immediately notice a fruity taste. That’s because the kitchen uses Arbequina olive oil from Catalonia, complemented by an acidic shot of lemon. The piquillos are crazily scattered with fried chickpeas — a really ingenious foil for the creamy textures. The dinner menu includes many vegetarian and vegan choices, including Beyondigas — albondigas (meatballs) made with Beyond Meat. There are also seafood and meat tapas including a Sevilla-style hot chicken. I mean …. Basta with the hot chicken! There are three major items for the table — a roasted chicken, a gigantic rib eye, and a whole fish. 

The talent behind the food here is executive chef Landon Thompson, a James Beard semifinalist who was chef de cuisine at Iberian Pig and executive chef at Cooks & Soldiers, both owed by the Castellucci Hospitality Group. Those two restaurants are without argument the best Spanish venues in the city. While Cooks & Soldiers has a much fancier menu, Buena Vida has a friendlier price point — surprising, given its location in the North and Line apartment complex which, according to its website, is very “refined” and exists “at the crossroads of everything that matters.” That means, of course, that it’s on the BeltLine and, like its neighbors, mimics the residential architecture of Soviet Russia. Buena Vida’s owners — Adam Berlin and Juan Sebastian Calle — have remedied that to some degree with an obviously Ibiza-inspired, pastel-drenched interior. Pink is everywhere, backgrounding some cool murals and pottery. At the front entrance there’s a neon greeting, in memory of Calle’s younger sister, which says “Te quiero mucho.” It’s that sincerity in the face of inevitable darkness that made me fall in love with southern Spain, and, while Buena Vida is still a work in progress, I’m looking forward to returning despite my estrangement from the place I belong.  (Buena Vida Tapas & Sol, 385 N. Angier Ave., 404-948-2312, buenavidatapas.com)

A NEW VEGAN OPTION: The people who own Mamak, the Malaysian favorite on Buford Highway, have opened Mamak Vegan Kitchen nearby in Chamblee. It’s next to their other new venue, Chom Chom Vietnamese Kitchen, which I wrote about last month. I visited recently with two friends and we had a meal that lived up to the quality of the meat-eater’s Mamak. 

I really wish I had the depth of character and self-discipline to become a vegetarian, but I do not. Because I know I can get up in the middle of the night and eat fried chicken, I have no desire to eat faux meat when I go to a vegetarian restaurant. I just want inventive vegetable dishes. Nonetheless, I felt compelled to try the rendang made (à la Buena Vida) with Beyond Meat at Mamak since my two companions stuck to undisguised vegetables and tofu. The original Mamak makes a superb rendang, and everything about the vegan version was as good on my first bite. But as I continued to eat, I felt like I was chewing a tenderized sponge. It had springy, meaty texture but it was too uniform. Likewise, all of the flavor at first was from the sauce, with nothing behind it like the natural flavor of meat. I could cope, but then there emerged an increasingly strong taste of, um, nothingness. I used to hate tofu, but tofu doesn’t pretend to be something else, and it doesn’t really deviate from the flavor it absorbs.

My friends’ choices were awesome. My favorite was the kari sayur, a slightly piquant curry of creamy eggplant, broccoli, cauliflower, tomatoes, chunks of tough tofu, and especially delicious crispy okra. My other friend ordered chow kway teow — flat rice noodles tossed in a wok with tofu, bean sprouts, snow peas, and a chili paste. My miniscule problem with it was the presence of a bit too much soy sauce for my taste but, honestly, I have a low tolerance for it. My friend thought I was an idiot, but, really, I’m not. The menu’s picture was barely tinted with the sauce. (Mamak Vegan Kitchen, 2390 Chamblee Tucker Road, 678-909-8188, mamakvegan.com)

BUENO AND CHEAP: I admit that while I was eating at Buena Vida, I kept thinking about Eclipse di Luna, where I’ve frequently eaten lunch over the years. Its menu offers inexpensive tapas — artful classics and novelties — along with specials. Recently I had an easily fetishized sandwich of pork belly, arugula, tomatoes, and roasted jalapeno aioli on ciabatta. Plus they got paella. (Eclipse di Luna, 764 Miami Circle, 404-846-0449, eclipsediluna.net)"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(8689) "Almost 20 years ago, on September 12, 2001, I was sitting in my favorite café in Seville, feeling very lonely after the horrifying events of the preceding day. The chef came out of the kitchen with a plate of ham and a newspaper. He sat at the table, telling me how happy he was to see me and asked how I was feeling. I told him I was numb. He opened the newspaper to show me page after page of the devastation that had occurred the day before at the World Trade Center in New York City. I was completely unnerved. Soon, other customers gathered around the table, looking at the pictures. Five or six of them sat down, and for the next few hours we grazed and talked about America. 

{BOX( float="left" bg="#66bfff" width="260px")}{img fileId="29623|29626|29624|29625" responsive="y" stylebox="float: left; margin:5px;" desc="desc" width="200px" button="popup"}{BOX}{BOX( float="right" bg="#66bfff" width="260px")}{img fileId="29628|29627|29629|29630" responsive="y" stylebox="float: left; margin:5px;" desc="desc" width="200px" button="popup"}{BOX}
I wanted more than anything to move to Spain. That’s where, as I’ve often put it, I felt more like myself than anywhere else. An avalanche of obligations — that plus the Euro — made moving impossible, but Spain remains the place where my imagination still roves. For that reason, it’s always a bit difficult for me to visit a restaurant here that features Spanish food. In the same way immigrants are never quite content with restaurant versions of the food their mothers cooked back home, nostalgia makes me hypercritical.

For many years, it was virtually impossible to find Spanish food in Atlanta. Now, it’s not so hard. The latest restaurant to open is Buena Vida Tapas & Sol. Most of the Spanish venues here seem to emphasize the cuisine of Barcelona and the Basque region. Buena Vida draws its inspiration from southern Spain — from Ibiza off the eastern coast and from the interior region, Andalusia, where Seville is located. It’s where flamenco originated; where Moors, Christians, and Jews coexisted, especially aesthetically; and where the poet and playwright Federico Garcia Lorca lived. It’s hot as hell most of the year and that, I assume, explains “the sol” — the sun — of the restaurant’s name. 

I could hardly wait to visit. After two foiled attempts, I finally made it on a Sunday afternoon when, alas, the extensive tapas menu is radically abbreviated for a brunch menu featuring fusion entrees like shrimp and grits. There are a couple of appealing dishes made with morcilla (blood sausage), such as the hash with piquillo peppers, sweet potatoes, mushroom confit, poached eggs, and Hollandaise. Tempting, but I was there for tapas and did manage to find some classics that are also on the dinner menu. My favorite was the croquetas — four crunchy-fried orbs filled with a luxuriously creamy béchamel in which diced Serrano and Iberico ham were suspended. They were dotted with a smoky, slightly tangy pimentón (paprika) aioli. You’re probably going to be a bit annoyed that the ham isn’t more substantial, but understand that this dish originated to make use of scraps of meat. In any case, believe me, the ham’s taste will come forward after a few bites. I’m not sure why two varieties of ham are used — Iberico is the more exotic and costly — but it reminded me of the many plates of ham I ate at that café in Seville. The owner/chef knew the pedigree of every pig — where it was raised, what it was fed, how long it had lived. If you want a more generous taste of a variety of hams, you can order a plate of it along with cheeses at Buena Vida.

Another tapa that is ubiquitous is the Spanish-style tortilla — a wedge of a thick, browned omelet usually packed with creamy potatoes. Here, the kitchen uses a changing variety of vegetables in addition to the potatoes — namely red peppers, zucchini, onions, and kale during my visit. The omelet was topped with a spoonful of intensely aromatic aioli that drizzled into a pool on the chive-scattered plate. Next up was a serving of three piquillos stuffed with Georgia goat cheese. You’re going to immediately notice a fruity taste. That’s because the kitchen uses Arbequina olive oil from Catalonia, complemented by an acidic shot of lemon. The piquillos are crazily scattered with fried chickpeas — a really ingenious foil for the creamy textures. The dinner menu includes many vegetarian and vegan choices, including Beyondigas — albondigas (meatballs) made with Beyond Meat. There are also seafood and meat tapas including a Sevilla-style hot chicken. I mean …. Basta with the hot chicken! There are three major items for the table — a roasted chicken, a gigantic rib eye, and a whole fish. 

The talent behind the food here is executive chef Landon Thompson, a James Beard semifinalist who was chef de cuisine at Iberian Pig and executive chef at Cooks & Soldiers, both owed by the Castellucci Hospitality Group. Those two restaurants are without argument the best Spanish venues in the city. While Cooks & Soldiers has a much fancier menu, Buena Vida has a friendlier price point — surprising, given its location in the North and Line apartment complex which, according to its website, is very “refined” and exists “at the crossroads of everything that matters.” That means, of course, that it’s on the BeltLine and, like its neighbors, mimics the residential architecture of Soviet Russia. Buena Vida’s owners — Adam Berlin and Juan Sebastian Calle — have remedied that to some degree with an obviously Ibiza-inspired, pastel-drenched interior. Pink is everywhere, backgrounding some cool murals and pottery. At the front entrance there’s a neon greeting, in memory of Calle’s younger sister, which says “Te quiero mucho.” It’s that sincerity in the face of inevitable darkness that made me fall in love with southern Spain, and, while Buena Vida is still a work in progress, I’m looking forward to returning despite my estrangement from the place I belong.  (Buena Vida Tapas & Sol, 385 N. Angier Ave., 404-948-2312, buenavidatapas.com)

A NEW VEGAN OPTION: The people who own Mamak, the Malaysian favorite on Buford Highway, have opened Mamak Vegan Kitchen nearby in Chamblee. It’s next to their other new venue, Chom Chom Vietnamese Kitchen, which I wrote about last month. I visited recently with two friends and we had a meal that lived up to the quality of the meat-eater’s Mamak. 

I really wish I had the depth of character and self-discipline to become a vegetarian, but I do not. Because I know I can get up in the middle of the night and eat fried chicken, I have no desire to eat faux meat when I go to a vegetarian restaurant. I just want inventive vegetable dishes. Nonetheless, I felt compelled to try the rendang made (à la Buena Vida) with Beyond Meat at Mamak since my two companions stuck to undisguised vegetables and tofu. The original Mamak makes a superb rendang, and everything about the vegan version was as good on my first bite. But as I continued to eat, I felt like I was chewing a tenderized sponge. It had springy, meaty texture but it was too uniform. Likewise, all of the flavor at first was from the sauce, with nothing behind it like the natural flavor of meat. I could cope, but then there emerged an increasingly strong taste of, um, nothingness. I used to hate tofu, but tofu doesn’t pretend to be something else, and it doesn’t really deviate from the flavor it absorbs.

My friends’ choices were awesome. My favorite was the kari sayur, a slightly piquant curry of creamy eggplant, broccoli, cauliflower, tomatoes, chunks of tough tofu, and especially delicious crispy okra. My other friend ordered chow kway teow — flat rice noodles tossed in a wok with tofu, bean sprouts, snow peas, and a chili paste. My miniscule problem with it was the presence of a bit too much soy sauce for my taste but, honestly, I have a low tolerance for it. My friend thought I was an idiot, but, really, I’m not. The menu’s picture was barely tinted with the sauce. (Mamak Vegan Kitchen, 2390 Chamblee Tucker Road, 678-909-8188, mamakvegan.com)

BUENO AND CHEAP: I admit that while I was eating at Buena Vida, I kept thinking about Eclipse di Luna, where I’ve frequently eaten lunch over the years. Its menu offers inexpensive tapas — artful classics and novelties — along with specials. Recently I had an easily fetishized sandwich of pork belly, arugula, tomatoes, and roasted jalapeno aioli on ciabatta. Plus they got paella. (Eclipse di Luna, 764 Miami Circle, 404-846-0449, eclipsediluna.net)"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-03-02T21:11:30+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-03-02T21:40:10+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_freshness_days"]=>
  int(807)
  ["tracker_field_photos"]=>
  string(5) "29631"
  ["tracker_field_photos_names"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(23) "GRAZ Mar 2020 3523 Hero"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filenames"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(27) "GRAZ_Mar_2020_3523_hero.jpg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filetypes"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "image/jpeg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_text"]=>
  string(23) "GRAZ Mar 2020 3523 Hero"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoCredit"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoTitle"]=>
  string(224) "SWEET: Piquillos are sweet by nature and Buena Vida adds fruitiness with Arbequina olive oil from Catalonia, plus a tempering shot of lemon. The peppers are stuffed with herbed goat cheese and garnished with fried chickpeas."
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "245"
    [1]=>
    string(3) "620"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(7) "245 620"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_names"]=>
  string(14) "Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_paths"]=>
  string(23) "Content::Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentLocation"]=>
  string(6) "0,0,10"
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentMiscCategories"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentFreeTags"]=>
  string(7) "grazing"
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "29631"
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
    [1]=>
    int(620)
    [2]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(9) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(245)
    [2]=>
    int(1182)
    [3]=>
    int(1477)
    [4]=>
    int(621)
    [5]=>
    int(620)
    [6]=>
    int(28)
    [7]=>
    int(988)
    [8]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(988)
    [1]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(1477)
    [1]=>
    int(621)
    [2]=>
    int(620)
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "471"
  }
  ["freetags_text"]=>
  string(7) "grazing"
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["user_groups"]=>
  array(9) {
    [0]=>
    string(22) "Product Representative"
    [1]=>
    string(12) "Wiki Editors"
    [2]=>
    string(17) "CL Correspondents"
    [3]=>
    string(20) "Event Representative"
    [4]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [5]=>
    string(10) "CL Editors"
    [6]=>
    string(27) "Organization Representative"
    [7]=>
    string(18) "Account Executives"
    [8]=>
    string(7) "Artists"
  }
  ["user_followers"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "jonny"
    [1]=>
    string(14) "thevinylwarhol"
  }
  ["like_list"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(27) "tiki.file.attach:file:29631"
    [1]=>
    string(74) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:wiki page:Content:_:GRAZING: Sketches of Spain"
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(16) "tiki.file.attach"
    [1]=>
    string(27) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert"
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(18) "tiki.file.attach:1"
    [1]=>
    string(29) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:1"
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "G"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(7) "GRAZING"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item469614"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "469614"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(8990) " GRAZ Mar 2020 3523 Hero  2020-03-02T21:10:18+00:00 GRAZ_Mar_2020_3523_hero.jpg     grazing The good life invades the BeltLine, Mamak offers vegan, the Harp spurts 40 intoxicants GRAZ Mar 2020 3523 Hero   2020-03-02T21:08:27+00:00  GRAZING: Sketches of Spain jim.harris Jim Harris Cliff Bostock cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock) 2020-03-02T21:08:27+00:00 Almost 20 years ago, on September 12, 2001, I was sitting in my favorite café in Seville, feeling very lonely after the horrifying events of the preceding day. The chef came out of the kitchen with a plate of ham and a newspaper. He sat at the table, telling me how happy he was to see me and asked how I was feeling. I told him I was numb. He opened the newspaper to show me page after page of the devastation that had occurred the day before at the World Trade Center in New York City. I was completely unnerved. Soon, other customers gathered around the table, looking at the pictures. Five or six of them sat down, and for the next few hours we grazed and talked about America. 


I wanted more than anything to move to Spain. That’s where, as I’ve often put it, I felt more like myself than anywhere else. An avalanche of obligations — that plus the Euro — made moving impossible, but Spain remains the place where my imagination still roves. For that reason, it’s always a bit difficult for me to visit a restaurant here that features Spanish food. In the same way immigrants are never quite content with restaurant versions of the food their mothers cooked back home, nostalgia makes me hypercritical.

For many years, it was virtually impossible to find Spanish food in Atlanta. Now, it’s not so hard. The latest restaurant to open is Buena Vida Tapas & Sol. Most of the Spanish venues here seem to emphasize the cuisine of Barcelona and the Basque region. Buena Vida draws its inspiration from southern Spain — from Ibiza off the eastern coast and from the interior region, Andalusia, where Seville is located. It’s where flamenco originated; where Moors, Christians, and Jews coexisted, especially aesthetically; and where the poet and playwright Federico Garcia Lorca lived. It’s hot as hell most of the year and that, I assume, explains “the sol” — the sun — of the restaurant’s name. 

I could hardly wait to visit. After two foiled attempts, I finally made it on a Sunday afternoon when, alas, the extensive tapas menu is radically abbreviated for a brunch menu featuring fusion entrees like shrimp and grits. There are a couple of appealing dishes made with morcilla (blood sausage), such as the hash with piquillo peppers, sweet potatoes, mushroom confit, poached eggs, and Hollandaise. Tempting, but I was there for tapas and did manage to find some classics that are also on the dinner menu. My favorite was the croquetas — four crunchy-fried orbs filled with a luxuriously creamy béchamel in which diced Serrano and Iberico ham were suspended. They were dotted with a smoky, slightly tangy pimentón (paprika) aioli. You’re probably going to be a bit annoyed that the ham isn’t more substantial, but understand that this dish originated to make use of scraps of meat. In any case, believe me, the ham’s taste will come forward after a few bites. I’m not sure why two varieties of ham are used — Iberico is the more exotic and costly — but it reminded me of the many plates of ham I ate at that café in Seville. The owner/chef knew the pedigree of every pig — where it was raised, what it was fed, how long it had lived. If you want a more generous taste of a variety of hams, you can order a plate of it along with cheeses at Buena Vida.

Another tapa that is ubiquitous is the Spanish-style tortilla — a wedge of a thick, browned omelet usually packed with creamy potatoes. Here, the kitchen uses a changing variety of vegetables in addition to the potatoes — namely red peppers, zucchini, onions, and kale during my visit. The omelet was topped with a spoonful of intensely aromatic aioli that drizzled into a pool on the chive-scattered plate. Next up was a serving of three piquillos stuffed with Georgia goat cheese. You’re going to immediately notice a fruity taste. That’s because the kitchen uses Arbequina olive oil from Catalonia, complemented by an acidic shot of lemon. The piquillos are crazily scattered with fried chickpeas — a really ingenious foil for the creamy textures. The dinner menu includes many vegetarian and vegan choices, including Beyondigas — albondigas (meatballs) made with Beyond Meat. There are also seafood and meat tapas including a Sevilla-style hot chicken. I mean …. Basta with the hot chicken! There are three major items for the table — a roasted chicken, a gigantic rib eye, and a whole fish. 

The talent behind the food here is executive chef Landon Thompson, a James Beard semifinalist who was chef de cuisine at Iberian Pig and executive chef at Cooks & Soldiers, both owed by the Castellucci Hospitality Group. Those two restaurants are without argument the best Spanish venues in the city. While Cooks & Soldiers has a much fancier menu, Buena Vida has a friendlier price point — surprising, given its location in the North and Line apartment complex which, according to its website, is very “refined” and exists “at the crossroads of everything that matters.” That means, of course, that it’s on the BeltLine and, like its neighbors, mimics the residential architecture of Soviet Russia. Buena Vida’s owners — Adam Berlin and Juan Sebastian Calle — have remedied that to some degree with an obviously Ibiza-inspired, pastel-drenched interior. Pink is everywhere, backgrounding some cool murals and pottery. At the front entrance there’s a neon greeting, in memory of Calle’s younger sister, which says “Te quiero mucho.” It’s that sincerity in the face of inevitable darkness that made me fall in love with southern Spain, and, while Buena Vida is still a work in progress, I’m looking forward to returning despite my estrangement from the place I belong.  (Buena Vida Tapas & Sol, 385 N. Angier Ave., 404-948-2312, buenavidatapas.com)

A NEW VEGAN OPTION: The people who own Mamak, the Malaysian favorite on Buford Highway, have opened Mamak Vegan Kitchen nearby in Chamblee. It’s next to their other new venue, Chom Chom Vietnamese Kitchen, which I wrote about last month. I visited recently with two friends and we had a meal that lived up to the quality of the meat-eater’s Mamak. 

I really wish I had the depth of character and self-discipline to become a vegetarian, but I do not. Because I know I can get up in the middle of the night and eat fried chicken, I have no desire to eat faux meat when I go to a vegetarian restaurant. I just want inventive vegetable dishes. Nonetheless, I felt compelled to try the rendang made (à la Buena Vida) with Beyond Meat at Mamak since my two companions stuck to undisguised vegetables and tofu. The original Mamak makes a superb rendang, and everything about the vegan version was as good on my first bite. But as I continued to eat, I felt like I was chewing a tenderized sponge. It had springy, meaty texture but it was too uniform. Likewise, all of the flavor at first was from the sauce, with nothing behind it like the natural flavor of meat. I could cope, but then there emerged an increasingly strong taste of, um, nothingness. I used to hate tofu, but tofu doesn’t pretend to be something else, and it doesn’t really deviate from the flavor it absorbs.

My friends’ choices were awesome. My favorite was the kari sayur, a slightly piquant curry of creamy eggplant, broccoli, cauliflower, tomatoes, chunks of tough tofu, and especially delicious crispy okra. My other friend ordered chow kway teow — flat rice noodles tossed in a wok with tofu, bean sprouts, snow peas, and a chili paste. My miniscule problem with it was the presence of a bit too much soy sauce for my taste but, honestly, I have a low tolerance for it. My friend thought I was an idiot, but, really, I’m not. The menu’s picture was barely tinted with the sauce. (Mamak Vegan Kitchen, 2390 Chamblee Tucker Road, 678-909-8188, mamakvegan.com)

BUENO AND CHEAP: I admit that while I was eating at Buena Vida, I kept thinking about Eclipse di Luna, where I’ve frequently eaten lunch over the years. Its menu offers inexpensive tapas — artful classics and novelties — along with specials. Recently I had an easily fetishized sandwich of pork belly, arugula, tomatoes, and roasted jalapeno aioli on ciabatta. Plus they got paella. (Eclipse di Luna, 764 Miami Circle, 404-846-0449, eclipsediluna.net)    Cliff Bostock SWEET: Piquillos are sweet by nature and Buena Vida adds fruitiness with Arbequina olive oil from Catalonia, plus a tempering shot of lemon. The peppers are stuffed with herbed goat cheese and garnished with fried chickpeas.  0,0,10    grazing                       GRAZING: Sketches of Spain "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(35) "atlantawiki_tiki_main_6285dce1d165e"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(204) " GRAZING: Sketches of Spain"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(141) "

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(95) "The good life invades the BeltLine, Mamak offers vegan, the Harp spurts 40 intoxicants"
  ["eventDate"]=>
  string(95) "The good life invades the BeltLine, Mamak offers vegan, the Harp spurts 40 intoxicants"
  ["noads"]=>
  string(10) "y"
}

array(104) {
  ["title"]=>
  string(35) "GRAZING: Does capitalism taste bad?"
  ["modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2022-02-01T14:25:36+00:00"
  ["creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-01-03T16:52:50+00:00"
  ["contributors"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "ben.eason"
  }
  ["date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-01-03T16:48:18+00:00"
  ["tracker_status"]=>
  string(1) "o"
  ["tracker_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["view_permission"]=>
  string(13) "view_trackers"
  ["parent_object_id"]=>
  string(2) "11"
  ["parent_object_type"]=>
  string(7) "tracker"
  ["field_permissions"]=>
  string(2) "[]"
  ["tracker_field_contentTitle"]=>
  string(35) "GRAZING: Does capitalism taste bad?"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator"]=>
  string(10) "jim.harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_text"]=>
  string(10) "Jim Harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentCreator_unstemmed"]=>
  string(10) "jim harris"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentByline_exact"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson"]=>
  string(6) "476087"
  ["tracker_field_contentBylinePerson_text"]=>
  string(33) "cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock)"
  ["tracker_field_description"]=>
  string(54) "Check out Food Terminal and B’s Cracklin’ Barbecue"
  ["tracker_field_description_raw"]=>
  string(54) "Check out Food Terminal and B’s Cracklin’ Barbecue"
  ["tracker_field_contentDate"]=>
  string(25) "2020-01-03T16:48:18+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage"]=>
  string(44) "Content:_:GRAZING: Does capitalism taste bad"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_text"]=>
  string(9387) "Here’s a question that often haunts you and me when we’re hungry: Does capitalism inevitably produce mediocrity? Specifically, we worry about what often happens when a really good restaurant produces so much money that the owners are required by the rules of the American Dream to open a second location, often followed by even more. Unfortunately, when the “it” restaurant becomes an “it’s everywhere” restaurant, quality and diners’ enthusiasm tend to diminish. We hate this, right? Sometimes it’s temporary. 

Two recent openings bring this to mind. One is B’s Cracklin’ Barbecue, which has opened a stall of sorts in the new Beltline Kroger. Second is Food Terminal, which now has a second location in West Midtown. Interestingly, they are both the offspring of restaurants that have been wildly popular in gentrifying locations. Food Terminal comes to Marietta Street from Buford Highway and B’s Cracklin’ to Ponce de Leon Avenue from Main Street in Riverside (following the burning of its full service restaurant there). 

The original Food Terminal is a gigantic Malaysian restaurant whose opening two years ago in front of the City Farmers Market represented something of a tipping point for Buford Highway. Many who long avoided the countless mom-and-pop restaurants there swamped Food Terminal, arguably rejuvenating the entire area. Owners Amy Wong and Howard Ewe long ago proved their ability to bridge cultural differences without intimidation or vapid Americanization of the diverse flavors of Southeast Asia that are assimilated to varying extents in Malaysian cooking. Wong and Ewe honed their skills at their other restaurants, including Mamak, five Sweet Hut bakery-cafes, and three Top Spice locations.  

The new Food Terminal is a comparatively small space with the same yellow-and-gray color scheme as the original. It features soaring windowed walls and acoustics that make conversation easy. The menu? Imagine one glossy page of food porn after another. By the time you get a few pages in, you are breathing rapidly and can’t remember which dish seduced you earlier. The easier way to explore what’s available is to look at the photo-free check list of dishes on which you’re going to indicate your choices. When something seems interesting on the list, then look up the full-color giant photo of it. 

I’ve probably eaten without complaint at the original Food Terminal a dozen times. I found nothing of note off-key at the newbie. I ordered everybody’s favorite — the mythically named  “Grandma Wonton BBQ T Noodle.” It’s a big bowl of noodles tossed (thus the T) in a light soy-based sauce, topped with some sweet slices of glazed pork with enough bark to add a tiny bit of crunch. There’s also mega-crunchy bok choy whose flavor keeps the pork’s sweetness from becoming cloying. You also get three twisted-up fried wontons filled with pork and shrimp. Their flavor explodes, but the exterior texture last week was a bit soggy. Finally, the noodles were topped with a fried egg. This one was way over-cooked for my taste. Isn’t the point for the yolk to add a velvety, rich component to the bowl? This egg barely yielded a drop of yolk. That’s my only complaint. 

My favorite on the table was a plate of watercress tossed with a black bean sauce. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten at Food Terminal without ordering it. I also love the Thai eggplant, purple logs of the creamy vegetable topped with a chili sauce and ground chicken. We also ordered a plate of mildly spicy beef rendang with nasi lemak (rice cooked in coconut milk). The rendang, to which I earlier became addicted at Mamak, also included an over-cooked egg, along with some pickled vegetables, slightly fishy crackers, and peanuts. 

Understand that it would take you forever just to count what’s available here. I intentionally ordered less exotic dishes in order to set a baseline, and the good news is that capitalism hasn’t ruined the quality of Food Terminal! The restaurant, by the way, is part of the Brickworks complex, so an entryway to free parking is immediately next door. You might have a wait. I went on a Monday night, and the restaurant was quite busy.

Food Terminal, 1000 Marietta St. N.W., 404-500-2695, foodterminal.com
 




B’s Redux

Yes, you really should go to the former Murder Kroger, now called the Beltline Kroger, and make a beeline for the new outpost of B’s Cracklin’ Barbecue. Brian Furman’s original Atlanta restaurant in Riverside burned to the ground in March 2019 after a few years in which it won just about every conceivable honor imaginable and not just in barbecue categories. Eater, for example, named it restaurant of the year and Furman was a James Beard semifinalist for best chef. I’m happy to say this is not the all-too-common foodie habit of fetishizing a quirky restaurant for the sake of in-the-know novelty. It deserves the accolades. 

The fire here weirdly duplicated the burning of Furman’s first restaurant in Savannah. It was re-opened and Furman promises to do the same here. Meanwhile, you can get the barbecue at the Kroger stall and eat on the premises, if you choose. (There’s also a stall at State Farm Arena). While the Kroger setting is a bit off-putting, the barbecue is certainly not. I’ve only been once and tried the ribs and the brisket. The brisket was absolutely perfect — fatty but not too fatty, smoky but not so much that the flavors of the rub and the meat were eclipsed. Ditto for the ribs, which you can eat without emerging from the area looking like a blood-doused zombie because of Georgia’s typically ketchupy sauces. Personally, I love B’s because its sauces are made with vinegar or mustard like the barbecue sauces I grew up eating in the Carolinas. In truth, you don’t even need a sauce with this meat. 

The chopped barbecue, by the way is “whole hog.” That means Furman smokes an entire, pedigreed pig, and the meat is pulled from different areas. It’s not all butt! I’ve also sampled the collards and pork and beans. Those aren’t particularly notable. (Do try the hash.) I asked for cracklin’ cornbread but received a super-sweet corn muffin. Probably my only complaint about B’s has been its failure to match my mother’s cracklin’-heavy cornbread. You really need that with the collards.

So, as with Food Terminal, capitalism has also failed to turn the multiple iterations of B’s into mediocrities. But I won’t be really happy until the full-service restaurant re-opens.

B’s Cracklin’ Barbecue, 725 Ponce de Leon Ave. Facebook: BsCracklinBBQATL  

HERE AND THERE: I recently dined at Nuevo Laredo, the restaurant that brought so-called “border cuisine” to Atlanta 20 years ago. I was a frequent customer early on, but the long waits and burgeoning Mexican/Tex-Mex scene caused me to drift away. A few weeks ago, four of us finally scored a table. The place has not changed. It still pays kitschy homage to Our Lady of Guadalupe, and the walls are covered with photos of everybody. There is one dish here to which I became addicted from day one: the chicken mole. I still think Nuevo Laredo’s mole is the best I’ve tasted in the city. I also ordered my old favorite, the grilled green onions. Get the queso with chorizo, and, if you’re craving beef, the tampiqueña steak rules …. I have no idea why, but the mainly well-reviewed Kajun Crab on Buford Highway served the same four of us a really, really disappointing meal. The restaurant features the hard-to-define Vietnamese-Cajun cuisine that developed in Louisiana. (It’s also served at the nearby Crawfish Shack.) The menu we’d seen beforehand said the restaurant served pho. There was no pho on the current menu. I thought my friend was dumb to order the seafood boil made with frozen crawfish, and I was right. A bowl of spindly pasta with seafood was tasteless. My bowl of seafood and potatoes in a nondescript sauce included sausage that would give you nightmares if I could find the words to describe it. Gumbo? It was okay ….

Do you know what the real problem with rainy, cold weather is? It makes you sit inside at Fat Matt’s Rib Shack on Piedmont. That was the situation when I lunched there recently. The ribs and chicken were delicious, as always, but the live, ear-splitting performance by a solitary man made conversation impossible. You will be fine if you know American Sign Language or don’t mind getting barbecue sauce all over your phone while you text your tablemates ….

I feel honor-bound to admit that my last visit to Popeyes was dreadful. I got the five-piece combo special. The chicken was grossly over-cooked, and the biscuits were literally burned and stony. The red beans and rice were the usual tablespoonful. I learned long ago not to leave the restaurant without checking my order, but I failed to follow my own advice. I did call when I got home. Me: “You gave me burnt biscuits and chicken so overcooked that I can hardly pry the meat off the drumstick.” Her: “I don’t have time for this.” Me: “What should I do?” Her: “Have a wonderful Thanksgiving.” Meanwhile, like the sandwich it honors, the Popeyes ugly Christmas sweater sold out in 14 hours. There are no plans to restock it. I mean, come on people! — CL—
"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_raw"]=>
  string(9631) "Here’s a question that often haunts you and me when we’re hungry: Does capitalism inevitably produce mediocrity? Specifically, we worry about what often happens when a really good restaurant produces so much money that the owners are required by the rules of the American Dream to open a second location, often followed by even more. Unfortunately, when the “it” restaurant becomes an “it’s everywhere” restaurant, quality and diners’ enthusiasm tend to diminish. We hate this, right? Sometimes it’s temporary. 

Two recent openings bring this to mind. One is B’s Cracklin’ Barbecue, which has opened a stall of sorts in the new Beltline Kroger. Second is Food Terminal, which now has a second location in West Midtown. Interestingly, they are both the offspring of restaurants that have been wildly popular in gentrifying locations. Food Terminal comes to Marietta Street from Buford Highway and B’s Cracklin’ to Ponce de Leon Avenue from Main Street in Riverside (following the burning of its full service restaurant there). 

The original Food Terminal is a gigantic Malaysian restaurant whose opening two years ago in front of the City Farmers Market represented something of a tipping point for Buford Highway. Many who long avoided the countless mom-and-pop restaurants there swamped Food Terminal, arguably rejuvenating the entire area. Owners Amy Wong and Howard Ewe long ago proved their ability to bridge cultural differences without intimidation or vapid Americanization of the diverse flavors of Southeast Asia that are assimilated to varying extents in Malaysian cooking. Wong and Ewe honed their skills at their other restaurants, including Mamak, five Sweet Hut bakery-cafes, and three Top Spice locations.  

The new __Food Terminal__ is a comparatively small space with the same yellow-and-gray color scheme as the original. It features soaring windowed walls and acoustics that make conversation easy. The menu? Imagine one glossy page of food porn after another. By the time you get a few pages in, you are breathing rapidly and can’t remember which dish seduced you earlier. The easier way to explore what’s available is to look at the photo-free check list of dishes on which you’re going to indicate your choices. When something seems interesting on the list, then look up the full-color giant photo of it. 

I’ve probably eaten without complaint at the original Food Terminal a dozen times. I found nothing of note off-key at the newbie. I ordered everybody’s favorite — the mythically named  “Grandma Wonton BBQ T Noodle.” It’s a big bowl of noodles tossed (thus the T) in a light soy-based sauce, topped with some sweet slices of glazed pork with enough bark to add a tiny bit of crunch. There’s also mega-crunchy bok choy whose flavor keeps the pork’s sweetness from becoming cloying. You also get three twisted-up fried wontons filled with pork and shrimp. Their flavor explodes, but the exterior texture last week was a bit soggy. Finally, the noodles were topped with a fried egg. This one was way over-cooked for my taste. Isn’t the point for the yolk to add a velvety, rich component to the bowl? This egg barely yielded a drop of yolk. That’s my only complaint. 

My favorite on the table was a plate of watercress tossed with a black bean sauce. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten at Food Terminal without ordering it. I also love the Thai eggplant, purple logs of the creamy vegetable topped with a chili sauce and ground chicken. We also ordered a plate of mildly spicy beef rendang with nasi lemak (rice cooked in coconut milk). The rendang, to which I earlier became addicted at Mamak, also included an over-cooked egg, along with some pickled vegetables, slightly fishy crackers, and peanuts. 

Understand that it would take you forever just to count what’s available here. I intentionally ordered less exotic dishes in order to set a baseline, and the good news is that capitalism hasn’t ruined the quality of Food Terminal! The restaurant, by the way, is part of the Brickworks complex, so an entryway to free parking is immediately next door. You might have a wait. I went on a Monday night, and the restaurant was quite busy.

''Food Terminal, 1000 Marietta St. N.W., 404-500-2695, foodterminal.com''
 

{BOX( bg="#66bfff" width="100%")}{img fileId="27180|27181|27182|27184" responsive="y" stylebox="float: left; margin:10px;" desc="desc" width="330px" button="popup"}{BOX}


__B’s Redux__

Yes, you really should go to the former Murder Kroger, now called the Beltline Kroger, and make a beeline for the new outpost of __B’s Cracklin’ Barbecue__. Brian Furman’s original Atlanta restaurant in Riverside burned to the ground in March 2019 after a few years in which it won just about every conceivable honor imaginable and not just in barbecue categories. Eater, for example, named it restaurant of the year and Furman was a James Beard semifinalist for best chef. I’m happy to say this is not the all-too-common foodie habit of fetishizing a quirky restaurant for the sake of in-the-know novelty. It deserves the accolades. 

The fire here weirdly duplicated the burning of Furman’s first restaurant in Savannah. It was re-opened and Furman promises to do the same here. Meanwhile, you can get the barbecue at the Kroger stall and eat on the premises, if you choose. (There’s also a stall at State Farm Arena). While the Kroger setting is a bit off-putting, the barbecue is certainly not. I’ve only been once and tried the ribs and the brisket. The brisket was absolutely perfect — fatty but not too fatty, smoky but not so much that the flavors of the rub and the meat were eclipsed. Ditto for the ribs, which you can eat without emerging from the area looking like a blood-doused zombie because of Georgia’s typically ketchupy sauces. Personally, I love B’s because its sauces are made with vinegar or mustard like the barbecue sauces I grew up eating in the Carolinas. In truth, you don’t even need a sauce with this meat. 

The chopped barbecue, by the way is “whole hog.” That means Furman smokes an entire, pedigreed pig, and the meat is pulled from different areas. It’s not all butt! I’ve also sampled the collards and pork and beans. Those aren’t particularly notable. (Do try the hash.) I asked for cracklin’ cornbread but received a super-sweet corn muffin. Probably my only complaint about B’s has been its failure to match my mother’s cracklin’-heavy cornbread. You really need that with the collards.

So, as with Food Terminal, capitalism has also failed to turn the multiple iterations of B’s into mediocrities. But I won’t be really happy until the full-service restaurant re-opens.

''B’s Cracklin’ Barbecue, 725 Ponce de Leon Ave. Facebook: BsCracklinBBQATL '' 

__HERE AND THERE:__ I recently dined at __Nuevo Laredo__, the restaurant that brought so-called “border cuisine” to Atlanta 20 years ago. I was a frequent customer early on, but the long waits and burgeoning Mexican/Tex-Mex scene caused me to drift away. A few weeks ago, four of us finally scored a table. The place has not changed. It still pays kitschy homage to Our Lady of Guadalupe, and the walls are covered with photos of everybody. There is one dish here to which I became addicted from day one: the chicken mole. I still think Nuevo Laredo’s mole is the best I’ve tasted in the city. I also ordered my old favorite, the grilled green onions. Get the queso with chorizo, and, if you’re craving beef, the tampiqueña steak rules …. I have no idea why, but the mainly well-reviewed __Kajun Crab__ on Buford Highway served the same four of us a really, really disappointing meal. The restaurant features the hard-to-define Vietnamese-Cajun cuisine that developed in Louisiana. (It’s also served at the nearby Crawfish Shack.) The menu we’d seen beforehand said the restaurant served pho. There was no pho on the current menu. I thought my friend was dumb to order the seafood boil made with frozen crawfish, and I was right. A bowl of spindly pasta with seafood was tasteless. My bowl of seafood and potatoes in a nondescript sauce included sausage that would give you nightmares if I could find the words to describe it. Gumbo? It was okay ….

Do you know what the real problem with rainy, cold weather is? It makes you sit inside at __Fat Matt’s Rib Shack__ on Piedmont. That was the situation when I lunched there recently. The ribs and chicken were delicious, as always, but the live, ear-splitting performance by a solitary man made conversation impossible. You will be fine if you know American Sign Language or don’t mind getting barbecue sauce all over your phone while you text your tablemates ….

I feel honor-bound to admit that my last visit to __Popeyes__ was dreadful. I got the five-piece combo special. The chicken was grossly over-cooked, and the biscuits were literally burned and stony. The red beans and rice were the usual tablespoonful. I learned long ago not to leave the restaurant without checking my order, but I failed to follow my own advice. I did call when I got home. Me: “You gave me burnt biscuits and chicken so overcooked that I can hardly pry the meat off the drumstick.” Her: “I don’t have time for this.” Me: “What should I do?” Her: “Have a wonderful Thanksgiving.” Meanwhile, like the sandwich it honors, the Popeyes ugly Christmas sweater sold out in 14 hours. There are no plans to restock it. I mean, come on people! __— CL—__
"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_creation_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-01-03T16:52:50+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_modification_date"]=>
  string(25) "2020-01-03T17:19:16+00:00"
  ["tracker_field_contentWikiPage_freshness_days"]=>
  int(866)
  ["tracker_field_photos"]=>
  string(5) "27183"
  ["tracker_field_photos_names"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(13) "GRAZ 3148 Web"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filenames"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(17) "GRAZ_3148_web.jpg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_filetypes"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "image/jpeg"
  }
  ["tracker_field_photos_text"]=>
  string(13) "GRAZ 3148 Web"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoCredit"]=>
  string(13) "Cliff Bostock"
  ["tracker_field_contentPhotoTitle"]=>
  string(76) "GET YOUR VITAMINS: Order Food Terminal’s watercress in a black bean sauce."
  ["tracker_field_breadcrumb"]=>
  string(1) "0"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "245"
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_text"]=>
  string(3) "245"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_names"]=>
  string(14) "Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentCategory_paths"]=>
  string(23) "Content::Food and Drink"
  ["tracker_field_contentControlCategory"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_scene"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentNeighborhood"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentLocation"]=>
  string(6) "0,0,10"
  ["tracker_field_contentRelations_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedContent_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentRelatedWikiPages_multi"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(0) ""
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentMiscCategories"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["tracker_field_contentFreeTags"]=>
  string(7) "grazing"
  ["tracker_field_section"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "620"
  }
  ["tracker_field_section_text"]=>
  string(3) "620"
  ["tracker_field_section_names"]=>
  string(7) "Grazing"
  ["tracker_field_section_paths"]=>
  string(46) "Section::Print Features::Food Feature::Grazing"
  ["language"]=>
  string(7) "unknown"
  ["attachments"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "27183"
  }
  ["comment_count"]=>
  int(0)
  ["categories"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
    [1]=>
    int(620)
    [2]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["deep_categories"]=>
  array(9) {
    [0]=>
    int(242)
    [1]=>
    int(245)
    [2]=>
    int(1182)
    [3]=>
    int(1477)
    [4]=>
    int(621)
    [5]=>
    int(620)
    [6]=>
    int(28)
    [7]=>
    int(988)
    [8]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_28"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_28"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    int(988)
    [1]=>
    int(518)
  }
  ["categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_177"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_209"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_163"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_171"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_153"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_242"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    int(245)
  }
  ["categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_564"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["deep_categories_under_1182"]=>
  array(3) {
    [0]=>
    int(1477)
    [1]=>
    int(621)
    [2]=>
    int(620)
  }
  ["freetags"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(3) "471"
  }
  ["freetags_text"]=>
  string(7) "grazing"
  ["geo_located"]=>
  string(1) "n"
  ["user_groups"]=>
  array(9) {
    [0]=>
    string(22) "Product Representative"
    [1]=>
    string(12) "Wiki Editors"
    [2]=>
    string(17) "CL Correspondents"
    [3]=>
    string(20) "Event Representative"
    [4]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [5]=>
    string(10) "CL Editors"
    [6]=>
    string(27) "Organization Representative"
    [7]=>
    string(18) "Account Executives"
    [8]=>
    string(7) "Artists"
  }
  ["user_followers"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(5) "jonny"
    [1]=>
    string(14) "thevinylwarhol"
  }
  ["like_list"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["allowed_groups"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(6) "Admins"
    [1]=>
    string(9) "Anonymous"
  }
  ["allowed_users"]=>
  array(1) {
    [0]=>
    string(10) "jim.harris"
  }
  ["relations"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(27) "tiki.file.attach:file:27183"
    [1]=>
    string(82) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:wiki page:Content:_:GRAZING: Does capitalism taste bad"
  }
  ["relation_objects"]=>
  array(0) {
  }
  ["relation_types"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(16) "tiki.file.attach"
    [1]=>
    string(27) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert"
  }
  ["relation_count"]=>
  array(2) {
    [0]=>
    string(18) "tiki.file.attach:1"
    [1]=>
    string(29) "tiki.wiki.linkeditem.invert:1"
  }
  ["title_initial"]=>
  string(1) "G"
  ["title_firstword"]=>
  string(7) "GRAZING"
  ["searchable"]=>
  string(1) "y"
  ["url"]=>
  string(10) "item466638"
  ["object_type"]=>
  string(11) "trackeritem"
  ["object_id"]=>
  string(6) "466638"
  ["contents"]=>
  string(9969) " GRAZ 3148 Web AFTER THE PURPLE RAIN: Food Terminal's creamy eggplant is topped with a spicy sauce. Photo by Cliff Bostock. 2020-01-03T16:35:44+00:00 GRAZ_3148_web.jpg     grazing Check out Food Terminal and B’s Cracklin’ Barbecue GRAZ 3148 Web   2020-01-03T16:48:18+00:00  GRAZING: Does capitalism taste bad? jim.harris Jim Harris Cliff Bostock cliffbostock (Cliff Bostock) 2020-01-03T16:48:18+00:00 Here’s a question that often haunts you and me when we’re hungry: Does capitalism inevitably produce mediocrity? Specifically, we worry about what often happens when a really good restaurant produces so much money that the owners are required by the rules of the American Dream to open a second location, often followed by even more. Unfortunately, when the “it” restaurant becomes an “it’s everywhere” restaurant, quality and diners’ enthusiasm tend to diminish. We hate this, right? Sometimes it’s temporary. 

Two recent openings bring this to mind. One is B’s Cracklin’ Barbecue, which has opened a stall of sorts in the new Beltline Kroger. Second is Food Terminal, which now has a second location in West Midtown. Interestingly, they are both the offspring of restaurants that have been wildly popular in gentrifying locations. Food Terminal comes to Marietta Street from Buford Highway and B’s Cracklin’ to Ponce de Leon Avenue from Main Street in Riverside (following the burning of its full service restaurant there). 

The original Food Terminal is a gigantic Malaysian restaurant whose opening two years ago in front of the City Farmers Market represented something of a tipping point for Buford Highway. Many who long avoided the countless mom-and-pop restaurants there swamped Food Terminal, arguably rejuvenating the entire area. Owners Amy Wong and Howard Ewe long ago proved their ability to bridge cultural differences without intimidation or vapid Americanization of the diverse flavors of Southeast Asia that are assimilated to varying extents in Malaysian cooking. Wong and Ewe honed their skills at their other restaurants, including Mamak, five Sweet Hut bakery-cafes, and three Top Spice locations.  

The new Food Terminal is a comparatively small space with the same yellow-and-gray color scheme as the original. It features soaring windowed walls and acoustics that make conversation easy. The menu? Imagine one glossy page of food porn after another. By the time you get a few pages in, you are breathing rapidly and can’t remember which dish seduced you earlier. The easier way to explore what’s available is to look at the photo-free check list of dishes on which you’re going to indicate your choices. When something seems interesting on the list, then look up the full-color giant photo of it. 

I’ve probably eaten without complaint at the original Food Terminal a dozen times. I found nothing of note off-key at the newbie. I ordered everybody’s favorite — the mythically named  “Grandma Wonton BBQ T Noodle.” It’s a big bowl of noodles tossed (thus the T) in a light soy-based sauce, topped with some sweet slices of glazed pork with enough bark to add a tiny bit of crunch. There’s also mega-crunchy bok choy whose flavor keeps the pork’s sweetness from becoming cloying. You also get three twisted-up fried wontons filled with pork and shrimp. Their flavor explodes, but the exterior texture last week was a bit soggy. Finally, the noodles were topped with a fried egg. This one was way over-cooked for my taste. Isn’t the point for the yolk to add a velvety, rich component to the bowl? This egg barely yielded a drop of yolk. That’s my only complaint. 

My favorite on the table was a plate of watercress tossed with a black bean sauce. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten at Food Terminal without ordering it. I also love the Thai eggplant, purple logs of the creamy vegetable topped with a chili sauce and ground chicken. We also ordered a plate of mildly spicy beef rendang with nasi lemak (rice cooked in coconut milk). The rendang, to which I earlier became addicted at Mamak, also included an over-cooked egg, along with some pickled vegetables, slightly fishy crackers, and peanuts. 

Understand that it would take you forever just to count what’s available here. I intentionally ordered less exotic dishes in order to set a baseline, and the good news is that capitalism hasn’t ruined the quality of Food Terminal! The restaurant, by the way, is part of the Brickworks complex, so an entryway to free parking is immediately next door. You might have a wait. I went on a Monday night, and the restaurant was quite busy.

Food Terminal, 1000 Marietta St. N.W., 404-500-2695, foodterminal.com
 




B’s Redux

Yes, you really should go to the former Murder Kroger, now called the Beltline Kroger, and make a beeline for the new outpost of B’s Cracklin’ Barbecue. Brian Furman’s original Atlanta restaurant in Riverside burned to the ground in March 2019 after a few years in which it won just about every conceivable honor imaginable and not just in barbecue categories. Eater, for example, named it restaurant of the year and Furman was a James Beard semifinalist for best chef. I’m happy to say this is not the all-too-common foodie habit of fetishizing a quirky restaurant for the sake of in-the-know novelty. It deserves the accolades. 

The fire here weirdly duplicated the burning of Furman’s first restaurant in Savannah. It was re-opened and Furman promises to do the same here. Meanwhile, you can get the barbecue at the Kroger stall and eat on the premises, if you choose. (There’s also a stall at State Farm Arena). While the Kroger setting is a bit off-putting, the barbecue is certainly not. I’ve only been once and tried the ribs and the brisket. The brisket was absolutely perfect — fatty but not too fatty, smoky but not so much that the flavors of the rub and the meat were eclipsed. Ditto for the ribs, which you can eat without emerging from the area looking like a blood-doused zombie because of Georgia’s typically ketchupy sauces. Personally, I love B’s because its sauces are made with vinegar or mustard like the barbecue sauces I grew up eating in the Carolinas. In truth, you don’t even need a sauce with this meat. 

The chopped barbecue, by the way is “whole hog.” That means Furman smokes an entire, pedigreed pig, and the meat is pulled from different areas. It’s not all butt! I’ve also sampled the collards and pork and beans. Those aren’t particularly notable. (Do try the hash.) I asked for cracklin’ cornbread but received a super-sweet corn muffin. Probably my only complaint about B’s has been its failure to match my mother’s cracklin’-heavy cornbread. You really need that with the collards.

So, as with Food Terminal, capitalism has also failed to turn the multiple iterations of B’s into mediocrities. But I won’t be really happy until the full-service restaurant re-opens.

B’s Cracklin’ Barbecue, 725 Ponce de Leon Ave. Facebook: BsCracklinBBQATL  

HERE AND THERE: I recently dined at Nuevo Laredo, the restaurant that brought so-called “border cuisine” to Atlanta 20 years ago. I was a frequent customer early on, but the long waits and burgeoning Mexican/Tex-Mex scene caused me to drift away. A few weeks ago, four of us finally scored a table. The place has not changed. It still pays kitschy homage to Our Lady of Guadalupe, and the walls are covered with photos of everybody. There is one dish here to which I became addicted from day one: the chicken mole. I still think Nuevo Laredo’s mole is the best I’ve tasted in the city. I also ordered my old favorite, the grilled green onions. Get the queso with chorizo, and, if you’re craving beef, the tampiqueña steak rules …. I have no idea why, but the mainly well-reviewed Kajun Crab on Buford Highway served the same four of us a really, really disappointing meal. The restaurant features the hard-to-define Vietnamese-Cajun cuisine that developed in Louisiana. (It’s also served at the nearby Crawfish Shack.) The menu we’d seen beforehand said the restaurant served pho. There was no pho on the current menu. I thought my friend was dumb to order the seafood boil made with frozen crawfish, and I was right. A bowl of spindly pasta with seafood was tasteless. My bowl of seafood and potatoes in a nondescript sauce included sausage that would give you nightmares if I could find the words to describe it. Gumbo? It was okay ….

Do you know what the real problem with rainy, cold weather is? It makes you sit inside at Fat Matt’s Rib Shack on Piedmont. That was the situation when I lunched there recently. The ribs and chicken were delicious, as always, but the live, ear-splitting performance by a solitary man made conversation impossible. You will be fine if you know American Sign Language or don’t mind getting barbecue sauce all over your phone while you text your tablemates ….

I feel honor-bound to admit that my last visit to Popeyes was dreadful. I got the five-piece combo special. The chicken was grossly over-cooked, and the biscuits were literally burned and stony. The red beans and rice were the usual tablespoonful. I learned long ago not to leave the restaurant without checking my order, but I failed to follow my own advice. I did call when I got home. Me: “You gave me burnt biscuits and chicken so overcooked that I can hardly pry the meat off the drumstick.” Her: “I don’t have time for this.” Me: “What should I do?” Her: “Have a wonderful Thanksgiving.” Meanwhile, like the sandwich it honors, the Popeyes ugly Christmas sweater sold out in 14 hours. There are no plans to restock it. I mean, come on people! — CL—
    Cliff Bostock GET YOUR VITAMINS: Order Food Terminal’s watercress in a black bean sauce.  0,0,10    grazing                       GRAZING: Does capitalism taste bad? "
  ["score"]=>
  float(0)
  ["_index"]=>
  string(35) "atlantawiki_tiki_main_6285dce1d165e"
  ["objectlink"]=>
  string(213) " GRAZING: Does capitalism taste bad?"
  ["photos"]=>
  string(226) "

"
  ["desc"]=>
  string(63) "Check out Food Terminal and B’s Cracklin’ Barbecue"
  ["eventDate"]=>
  string(63) "Check out Food Terminal and B’s Cracklin’ Barbecue"
  ["noads"]=>
  string(10) "y"
}