You can’t visit Atlanta and not see the birthplace of Martin Luther King Jr. and his church, just down the street from each other.
We took a break for lunch at Rolling Bones BBQ.
I can’t help myself, but before I left I did a quick drive-thru the local cemetary. They even had confederate soldiers.
Bury me behind the catfish shack
I had the next day off for sightseeing. Alatese and I started the morning off at the Silver Skillet.
As I often do when traveling, I visited the art museum.
They had a great collection of marble and of folk art. By a strange coincidence I was to later meet and have lunch with the man who donated these Singleton pieces to the museum.
After Fat Matts, Angy and I went to the Coca Cola Museum. It wasn’t very exciting, unless you’re a little kid or a Coca Cola fanatic. We did like the section where you could try Coke products from all over the world.
The big excitement of the day was that I had a reservation to swim in the giant tank at the aquarium! Talk about a dream come true! Atlanta has the largest aquarium in America and the only whale sharks in captivity. These photos are courtesy of my friend Angy.
Yep, that’s me with the giant whale sharks beneath me. It’s so amazing you don’t even think about being afraid.
Later on for dinner, my cabbie Alatese and I hit FLIP, Richard Blaze of Top Chef’s burger place. The burgers were truly fantastic. I ordered a D’Lux with black diamond beef. wild mushrooms, foie gras and truffle aioli.
But for us, the big story was the shakes. They had a foie gras milkshake! It was actually good, I loved it and drank about 2/3 of it. The cabbie was having none of that and we also got a Cap’n Crunch and a Krispy Kreme, which we loved, but the Nutella with burnt marshmallow was too burnt.
Sharks and a foie gras milkshake in the same day! Living on the edge!
It was raining and so we took a cab to Fat Matt’s Rib Shack even though my guy wasn’t around. Open since 1990, the little rib shack is open late and has live music. The room is cozy in that Southern way with a little familiar rock club feel.
We split the pulled pork sandwich and a baby back ribs plate. I inhaled the pulled pork, but it was all about the ribs, tender and nicely sauced. I had to have the mac and cheese — de rigeur, and of course the Brunswick stew after falling in love at Mary Mac’s. Deep, rich, earthy, pretty damn umami. For a side with the ribs we went with the more low carb coleslaw, and you know, just in case they don’t have it on the pulled pork, it would be a sin.
The entertainment was fantastic, and I wished we could have lingered all day, snacking, drinking and listening as the rain fell outside, But I had promises to keep and miles to go before I sleeped.
Tuesday we all headed down to Papadeaux in Marietta. It was kind of corporate, but I am not going to be too picky when it comes to getting a taste of New Orleans. Plus it had all the requirements for a large group – fruity drinks, big platters, and crazy decor.
I ordered N’awlins Punch (Tito’s vodka, SKYY Infusions Citrus vodka, fresh watermelon & lemon with a dash of kosher salt.). They accidentally brought me the Swamp Thing (Raspberry & melon liqueurs blended with frozen Hurricane & Margarita.) I sent it back, and as soon as I got the correct drink I was sorry. The Swamp Thing was fruity and refreshing. The N’Awlins Punch was bland by comparison. So remember my vow to not eat any more fried food? Well, after this happened…
Then this happened…
And then THIS happened.
Seafood Platter: Fried shrimp, fried tilapia fillet, blue crab cake,stuffed shrimp & stuffed crab .
We substituted catfish for tilapia, cause you know, it’s catfish. The stuffed crab was heaven. I would recommend this restaurant for fruity drinks and stuffed crab, but otherwise it’s just too touristy.
After all the food and wacky drinks, we stumbled back onto the hired bus. A bunch of drunk girls plus poles equals some crazy dancing. After a sudden turn sent me sprawling into another girl’s lap, we squealed and giggles. A wet blanket said, “If I had been driving this bus and you all screamed like that, I’d have driven into a tree.” With dollar bills in my panties, I stood and defended the driver’s honor. Pointing towards the front of the bus, I declared passionately, “This…man…is…a…professional!”
There was quite a buzz around town about the newly opened Mexican restaurant, No Mas. Even Alatese, my taxi driver had suggested we check it out. But i come from Los Angeles, land of burritos, and I couldn’t imagine a Mexican restaurant in Atlanta coming close. No Mas turned out to be the site of my friend’s birthday party, and we all piled into a line of cars, even stuffing people in the hatchbacks like teenagers.
I suspect a lot of the hype around No Mas was a result of their super-hip and colorful decor. It was definitely a nice party venue. Since I had just eaten, I chose to have a liquid dinner – a passion fruit margarita. That’s probably another reason for the hype – who has ever heard of a passion fruit margarita?
I can’t really comment on the food, since I didn’t eat any. Everyone seemed satisfied but not impressed. The cocktails were really the star of the show. I stole a sip of my neighbor’s tortilla soup, and it was your standard generic tortilla soup – nothing wrong with it, but nothing to crow about. The combo platter looked downright unappetizing, so I won’t assault your senses with that picture. Instead, here is a close-up of the nachos, the ultimate drunk food.
But this night was not so much about food as it was about good friends
Monday night there was going to be a birthday party for a friend of mine. I hadn’t heard from anyone, so after awhile I gave up and went to a nearby brewery that had piqued my interest. I had been eating so much soul food I thought I could get something healthy and grilled. After a brunch of chicken and waffles I had vowed not to eat any more fried food for the rest of the day.
I don’t drink like I used to, but it was a brewery after all with their very own brewmaster, John Roberts. I tend to like ambers and reds. Upon the server’s recommendation I tried Max Red “A vibrantly red Vienna-Style lager, Max Red is a mild blend of a rich toasted malt character and subtle style but spicy hop finish.”
The 100-year old brick building is decorated in a simple but modern pub style, a nice place to while away an evening. The servers were friendly and service was prompt.
I had noticed that there were 2 main fish dishes in Atlanta – catfish and salmon. When people asked me which I suggested, I would try to reply with more charm than sarcasm, “That depends, are we in Seattle or in the South?” Locally sourced food is big in California, and their menu did mention Neiman Ranch steaks. But when I asked where the lamb was from, the waitress looked at me like she wanted to say, “I think it went to Harvard.”
Since I was looking for something local and the fire on the open grill made the whole room smell good, I started with the wood-grilled Georgia quail with honey balsamic glaze, bleu cheese grits, and pecan pesto. A very modern dish. The quails were succulent – I know it is an overused word, but there is nothing to describe how juicy and sweet the breast meat was. The grits were properly cooked, even though I am not big on blue cheese. When I remember Atlanta, this dish is one that I know I will return to order.
My main dish of shrimp was delicious and the truffle grits were much more to my taste. Mid-way through the meal I got a call to go to the birthday dinner, so I sort of rushed through the dish and rushed off to meet my friends.
The next day a group of us needed a fast and convenient lunch spot, and I remembered Max Lager’s. Almost everyone got the salad. With salmon.
Gladys Knight and Ron Winans opened their Chicken & Waffles with her son Shanga Hankerson. Shanga, who started out working in his father’s butcher shop, continues the tradition today.
The decor is upscale coffee shop, and the clientele is diverse, from tourists to a big, hunky sports team that I got caught in the middle of as we squeezed through the front door. When they realized they were bouncing me around like a pinball and apologized, I was breathless, “That’s OK. I can probably stay here for about 5 more minutes.”
Once I had settled in and cooled off with an unsweetened tea, I ordered the Midnight Train: Four southern fried jumbo chicken wings and one Original waffle. I call these giant soul food chicken wings “bat wings”. The catfish and shrimp and grits both looked tempting, but if you are in a restaurant named after a dish, you should probably order that dish.
The chicken had that same Atlanta-greasy-but-in-a-good-way crunch. But I am an LA hometown girl and I have to say Roscoes has the better waffles. Although the imprint was pretty cool. Golden Malted.
After such a long day I was feeling a little peckish. We pulled up to the Varsity . According to the website, “The World’s Largest Drive-in sits on more than two acres and can accommodate 600 cars and over eight hundred people inside…It sells more than two miles of hotdogs daily, a ton of onion rings, 2500 pounds of fresh cut potatoes, 5000 homemade fried pies, and 300 gallons of chili, all of which are made from scratch daily. The downtown Varsity is also the world’s largest single outlet for Coca-Cola.”
Compared to the monster burgers of LA, the Varsity chili burger looked a little wimpy. But good things come in small packages, and somehow the patty and their house-made chili melded together into one explosive meat bomb of flavor.
Not only was the hot dog covered in that rich chili, but the dog itself was quality. A nice, intense Nathan’s kosher dog flavor stood up to the chili making for one hell of a dog.
In spite of their impressive record with coca-Cola, the Varsity is all about the Frosty Orange, known to regulars as the F.O. It is like an orange shake with a slushy texture and real juice flavor instead of that artificial “orange drink” taste.
My only disappointment was the peach pie, which was soaked with grease. An hour’s wait to eat it may be to blame, but judging by the taste, even eaten hot I would guess it would be more greasy than crispy.
Car hops, or “Curb men” holler to each car that pulls into the long row of parking spaces, letting everyone know that they are on their way, even when there are four cars ahead of them.
“What’ll Ya Have?”
Sunday I had a run of luck. After visiting the Aquarium I heard the faint strains of music coming from Centennial Park. I followed my ear and found an Arts Festival. People were spread out on a huge expanse of grass relaxing on blankets.
Omar Sosa was onstage playing his particular brand of Latin and Afro-Cuban jazz. Born in Cuba, he now resides in Barcelona so it was a rare chance to see him perform.
I bought a number of books and some earrings before checkin out the food. An order of conch fritters with peas and rice set me back 12 bucks. Conch is often compared to clams. Fried into as fritter at its best it is like a flavorless clam. At its worst it shrinks up into a chewy wad that sticks in your teeth like Jujubee candies. That being said, the fritter dough was fantastic, as were the peas and rice, which we call kidney beans in the US.
Maybe I should have ordered the alligator skewers
It was a sunny day and kids cooled off in the fountain. I ended up with a sunburn, but it was worth it.
Regular readers may have noticed that I love aquariums! Last week I happened to catch a show called “Really Big Things” about the Atlanta Aquarium. They have the largest tank in the West, maybe the world, and they are the only place where we can see the world’s biggest fish — the whale shark. I couldn’t get there fast enough.
Beluga Whales
The Ocean Voyager Exhibit holds 6.3 million gallons making it the largest aquarium habitat in the world. It is home to 4 manta rays and 4 whale sharks. It was recently home to hammerhead sharks until some unauthorized snacking landed them in isolation. Although the whale sharks aren’t yet full-grown, they are still enormous.
I took a behind the scenes tour, which focused on the day to day running of the aquarium — water levels and temps, giant valves, feeding and vetrinary care.
We got to watch the whale sharks being fed.
I wanted to jump right in the aquarium and take a swim. The tour guide saod, “Oh you can do that. Talk to them up front about special programs.”
Heeheeheeeheeee
Sunday morning was my first real exposure to Atlanta. Everyone had told me I would be shocked by how friendly people were, but I’m so aggressively friendly myself I felt very much in my element. My cab driver, Alatese, and I had a beautiful brunch at Mary Mac’s. The tearoom was one of many women-owned restaurants that cropped up during WWII. Although it is on its third owner, each was hand-picked and committed to continuing the legacy. You can read more about the history here. A complimentary cup of pot likker (the nutrient and flavor-rich water from boiling greens) and corn bread is brought to first-timers. “Now, you just crumble that cornbread right up in there.”
After a greeting, a drink order and short history, you are given a check to fill out with your order, like at Dim Sum places. The embossed pencils are a popular and frequently stolen souvenir (yes, I have a pencil. With my waitresses’ blessing). Not being from the South, I had the order the de rigeur and obvious fried green tomatoes. Under the thick fried coating was a sweet, sour tang that is understandably addictive. They are accompanied by a Parmesan dressing similar to Ranch. Alatese declined trying them.
For my main dish I ordered the fried chicken, which was recommended by Roadfood. I noticed the fried food in the South is still a little greasy, but the grease is clean and not off-putting. Normally I judge fried food by its lack of greasiness, but this is a different ballgame altogether. By now I had broken through Alatese’s shell of politeness which had caused him to refuse to taste any of my food. This time when I shoved a chicken wing at him and ordered, “Here, eat this” he took it without argument. Sometimes good food wins out.
The Brunswick stew was smoky and earthy and filled with pork. The cheese grits were like really good mac and cheese made with grits instead of macaroni. I was looking around for my other sides and I had to call the waitress over and explain that when I ran out of room I continued writing my order on the back of the check.
Clockwise from left: Sweet potato souffle with melted marshmallow, a good dish to save for dessert. Tomato pie, with an ethereal topping of breadcrumbs, Parmesan and butter that is somehow as light as air. Dressing, just like you hope it will be, dense with cornbread and topped with gravy, Mac and cheese perfection.
I tried Alatese’s baked catfish. Normally I would have it fried, but it made me a convert. He kept saying in disbelief, “It is so perfect. It melts in my mouth.”
Do I dare to eat a peach? Yes! Take a nice fresh fruit and load it with butter and sugar, add a pie crust and some ice cream, and I will make room. I did have to take half of my main dish home to make room, but slurping the slippery peach slices up like wiggling fishies was worth saving room for.
I emerged from the airport into the heat of Atlanta and approached the taxi dispatcher, “Is a taxi or a town car more likely to stop somewhere to eat?
“You wanna eat?”
“Just you know, like a chicken shack or something.”
Passer-by, addresses the dispatcher incredulously: We have chicken shacks in Atlanta?
Dispatcher: No.
My taxi driver started out wary, telling me there would be lots of nice places around my hotel. Finally, I got through to him and he took me to Walter’s Soulfood Express Cafe. It’s a neighborhood joint in little row of businesses On Cleveland Avenue. The employees were friendly, and sure enough, there was a basket of peaches by the register. Welcome to Atlanta. The driver and I both ordered oxtails, and I also ordered fried catfish to-go, because I needed to stock up, after all.
There was a problem with my payment at the hotel, so it took forever to get to my room. Normally, fried catfish would have steamed all to hell. But it was still crispy and delicious, even cold. It looks like there may be dark meat under the coating, but it’s just dark from all of the spices. The greens were spicy perfection, and the mac and cheese were just what you would expect.
Even though I was oretty full I gobbled up the rice and gravy from under the oxtails as a midnight snack. The gravy was unbelievable.
The red velvet cake was supermoist and had the surprising addition of nuts and a little bit of raisins. I’m still pondering whether or not I should have gotten the key lime cake.
The Marriott Marquis is frighteningly tall. My room is in the 20s and still near the bottom. The rails that are supposed to keep you from falling the length of the CN Tower look like monkey bars, which seem like they would be a dare to a person on the right kind of drunk. My room is nice and quiet, and the bed is sheer heaven. What more can you ask for?
On the way home, the driver said, “Now that I saw that turkey, I think I’m going to have to go right back there and get that turkey. It looked so good.”
I knew this was my guy, “What’s your day rate? Want to have breakfast with me at Mary Mac’s tomorrow?”
My dad used to say that even when you died, on the way to heaven you had to switch planes in Memphis. Lately it hasn’t been Memphis, but Dallas, so Dickey’s BBQ at DFW has become a tradition. The original Dickies, opened in 1941 is still owned by the original family. They are aggressively franchising though. Franchise or no, everyone who sat down with a personal pan pizza gawked at my plate of BBQ with open envy. Their brisket is probably their best meat. The pulled pork just isn’t quite Memphis quality. The pork ribs are tender and meaty, but on this visit had a thin outer shell of tough, dry meat. The mac and cheese is so-so, but the baked potato casserole is spectacular, simply spectacular. Well, as spectacular as a baked potato dish gets.
I cover foodie events that feature table after table of small bites from a variety of restaurants. Normally I roam around the side and back of tables to get shots of famous chefs, people preparing food, and people handing food to other people. You may have noticed I also love the patterns that rows of small plates make.
While I’m doing my thing I often josh a little with the employees, and sometimes they hand me a plate. Many chefs understandably want to prepare a special plate with a perfect garnish and no splatter for a photograph. I usually take that plate over to a sunny area to photograph it. I don’t stand in front of the line gleefully enjoying the food and laughing, “Suckersssss.”
As an extremely enthusiastic, if not professional, reporter, I feel like it’s my job to get the story. I have to try each and every bite in order to make restaurant recommendations and take beautiful, mouth-watering pictures so that you can live vicariously through the posts. Besides wanting those behind-the-scenes pictures I am often racing the sunset and the sheer impossibility of hitting every table. And like a crazed food paparazzi, I have to get the shot. I have to get the story.
Well, this week I was at Disneyland. It was a particularly hot and crowded day. As I waited in a miserably long line for ice cream, another park employee slipped up to the side of the counter and ordered ice cream for herself and some friends. As she sailed past, I noticed a particularly self-satisfied look on her face. If I had laser-beam eyes, she would have been dust.
Last night at another food event, I noticed the other food bloggers patiently waiting in line like good citizens, and I realized that I am probably lucky that no one has laser beam eyes.
