Life has been a blurry mess lately. It turns out that all of us at Foodie Atlanta headquarters managed to change jobs in the last couple of months. Sure, it’s not that we stopped eating well, it’s just that we haven’t had the time to sit down and write something at least mildly substantive and passingly amusing.

But it’s time to get back on the horse and our latest venture takes us back to Decatur, not too far away from Sun In My Belly to a new place  by the name of Isabella’s Cafe.

Main dining area

Isabella’s Cafe is a tough restaurant to describe succinctly. The best I can do is “Kenyan-inspired, contemporary, casual neighborhood gem.” Try that one out on your friends and family and tell me how it flies. Turns out that my inability to summon a pithy description  tragic since the food is very, very good. And cheap!

As a big fan of the foie gras + flops faction of the foodie universe, I spend a lot of time trying to demistify the fine dining experience. From this digital bully pulpit, I frequently argue that although eating well isn’t cheap, it isn’t nearly as expensive when compared to unforgivable dining venues like Longhorn and The Cheesecake Factory. Endorsing Isabella’s cafe doesn’t require carefully cherry picking of menus, abstract mathematics or giant leaps of faith. It’s genuinely inexpensive.

That being said, it doesn’t succumb to the kind of corner-cutting antics that are the hallmarks of places obsessed with neurotic attention to food costs and overhead. I’ve always said that the prerequisite for me caring about a restaurant isn’t how fancy it is, or whether the ingredients are high-end. The only prerequisite is passion. Desserts here are made from scratch even though they could easily be bought. The recipes are all drawn from the owner’s own family cooking and they reflect a family history spanning three continents.

Some of it may not be traditionally considered comfort food, but it is. And although it never aims to overreach, it somehow manages to pull off what I can only described as “comfort food you don’t regard as comfort food yet.”

What exactly am I talking about that could possibly fit the bill? Try turkey samosas and sweet potato tater tots and thai chicken wings. The menu seems bizarrely all-over-the-place at first glance, but once you start eating, you start to understand that good food is good food, regardless of its thematic continuity.

To describe the meal blow-by-blow would take another 1,000 words. We tried at least 15 different items are our reactions never fell below ‘good’ and a few times managed to reach deep into the surprising territory.

You want highlights and a bit of steering in the right direction? Very well then:

• The sweet potato tater tots are absolutely out of control. They are outrageously good.
• The salad we had of spinach, Gorgonzola, strawberries, house-spiced pecans and oranges was fantastic. One of the few salads that I would go out of my way to order.
• The entrée of Spanish white beans, sun-dried tomatoes, spinach and basmati rice, vegetarian sensibilities aside, was hearty and satisfying.
• All desserts we had were  excellent and worth ordering even if you aren’t a “dessert person”.

Samosas

Appetizers!

Chicken wings

The epic salad: spinach, gorgonzola, spiced pecans, strawberries, mango, oranges.

Mac & Cheese

Swahili Shrimp and mango curry

Cajun Shrimp & Andouille Sausage Alfredo over Pasta

Spanish White Beans, Sun-dried Tomatoes, & Spinach served over Basmati Rice

Chicken Masala

Desserts: Vanilla Cardamom Pound Cake with Lemon Glaze, Hummingbird Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting, Sweet Potato Pie with Crunchy Pecan Topping & Vanilla Ice Cream, Creamy Banana Pudding with Pepperidge Farm Shortbread Cookies

I never go downtown. It’s not a philosophical objection, I just never venture that way. I’m also ashamed to say that I haven’t participated yet in any of the Restaurant Weeks that have taken place around the fair city. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t get around that much.

I was lucky enough to get a sneak preview at next week’s prix fixe menu at the restaurant of my choosing and since I tend to focus on fine dining, I chose Il Mulino. I’ve always been curious since it’s one of those restaurants, like Morton’s or the Capital Grille that attempts to straddle the realm of fine dining and  the business of replication. Il Mulino is, for lack of a better word, a chain.

The final reason that made me curious about this particular locale was price-point. Il Mulino is decidedly not an inexpensive dining venue and somehow managing to squeeze a three-course dinner for $35 was going to take either accounting acrobatics of Enron proportions, or cleverness beyond my imagination.

Their offering can be found here: Il Mulino Downtown Atlanta Restaurant Week Menu 2010

Il Mulino is old school Italian-American. Walking through the doors invokes imagery that blends movie-like Little Italy with a side of some good, old-fashioned Joe Pesci ham. The staff, though I have to say  knew exactly why I was there, was extraordinarily friendly and attentive.  The food started piling on, some fried zucchini, bruschetta, mussels, a taste of cheese, a little salumi, and some bread. We ordered the rigatoni bolognese, the basil pappardelle, the saltimbocca and their salmon offering. Our affable server kindly gave us a taste of all three available desserts.

I told you, old school.

I don’t know if the food was representative of what Il Mulino is all about. The $35 limit places some heavy restrictions on their regular menu, which is expansive and priced at a different level altogether.

So I will have to reserve judgement on their food for the time being. I have far more questions than conclusions at this point. But it’s too intriguing not to explore a full review. Stay tuned.

The classic FA menu shot.

Bruschetta, mussels

The way to my heart involves bread.

Fried zucchini

Garlic, parmesan bread

Rigatoni bolognese: braised veal and beef

Pappardelle, tomato, basil

Saltimbocca, sage, prosciutto, spinach

Sautéed salmon, wild mushrooms

Trio of desserts: tiramisu, cheesecake, chocolate cake. We need to work on plating.

I live, to use the Atlanta vernacular, OTP. And as much as I take perverse pleasure in decrying the food culture of suburbia, and in what is an egregious example of the contradictory nature of man, it turns out that I periodically succumb to the very demons that I try to exorcise.

To put it mildly, I am a recidivist. Practicality gets in the way.

The truth is that although I often come across an incorrigible elitist when it comes to food, I’m glad to sit down with friends and family just about anywhere and eat whatever is served in front of me. I may not consider it real food, but I’ll munch on some Pizza Shooters or some Extreme Fajitas from time to time.

Aspens Signature Steaks is a valiant attempt at fine dining in the suburbs. It’s ostensibly an upper-end steak house, designed to invoke all the right notes of a Colorado ski lodge and while it may sit across the street from a Belk, inside we can all pretend we’re vacationing at Beaver Creek. All the accoutrements are there: the white table cloth, the crumbers, the reserve bottles, the uber-polite and unflappably helpful staff. Even the menu inspires confidence as it is welcomely bereft of fried mozzarella, though the bruschetta managed to weasel its way in.

The illusion works for a little while. For just a few minutes, you think to yourself that it may yet be the oasis in the desert and not a mirage. Then we dig a little deeper.

To be fair, I’ve been to Aspen’s at least four times, visiting both locations, and one of them being their brunch offering. It’s not bad food, it’s just thoroughly mediocre and ends up being a waste of money.

So what is wrong? Let’s dissect.

For starters, they don’t rest their steaks. This is a really big deal with me and one of the primary reasons why I don’t frequent steakhouses. A steak is unforgiving. Premium beef has to experience the perfect sear and rested carefully before delivery. During one of my visits, I opted for their special, a bone-in, dry-aged filet and had the temerity to ask  if resting took place. What I got in return was that quizzical look that I’ve only seen in dogs that have been mistakenly fed beer and then asked to play dead while throwing a frisbee at them. For a steak treading awfully close the $40 territory, proper resting should be a given.

On a different visit I tried their NY Strip which was chewy and forgettable and on a third one, a flat iron steak that was equally clumsy in its execution. During this last visit, however, I ate a surprisingly decent braised short rib dish. The problem? The short rib was flanked by some amateurishly bad skillet potatoes. My fellow diners also experienced the overwhelming unevenness that has come to define my dining experience there. The wahoo wahoo was alarmingly overcooked and the tuna tartar stack was dull and grayish. Compared to other restaurants in the same price point, it seemed unacceptable.

Is there anything good? Well, their blue cheese risotto fritters are not bad at all and their seared tuna was ably delivered. Their salmon was good, if uninspired and their bread is divine. The Sedgwick Restaurant Group restaurants tend to be characterized by very good bread and this is one of the reasons that I don’t mind taking the occasional swing by Bistro VG if I’m in the area.

It may be that I’m cranky and brutal when it comes to steakhouses. I’m not one to surrender the premium dollars for middling beef when far less money will deliver more pleasure elsewhere. Aspens certainly has the right setup, it just fails to deliver.

2 out of 5 knives

I have a checkered past with Vinings. Vinings straddles the perimeter, and in doing so, combines the best and worst of both worlds. There are a lot of faux-fine dining restaurants in this area–restaurants far more interested in providing a convincing illusion of fine dining than taking the pride and effort to produce serious food. The landscape is more often than not a rash of restaurants catering to people that enjoy dining but aren’t passionate about food and the craft behind it. To us foodies, eating doesn’t begin and end with the meal. Food carries with it history, family, culture, stories and work. Foodies look for everything that led up to the plated dish.

But uneven as it may be, Vinings does have some great examples of this kind of commitment to food, they are just rare. Chef Paolo Tondo, owner of Taverna Fiorentina, has the prerequisite passion in spades. Originally from Rome, raised in Florence and equal parts raconteur, engineer and gastronome, he  has built a fascinating pean to Italian food tucked in a strip mall right off of Cobb Parkway.

Inside Taverna Fiorentina

The bread

Picture the scene: Chef Paolo and I talking shop at the bar, a vodka for me, a shot of wine for the chef. I glance at the menu and the daily specials. The first question is simple: why Vinings? Chicken-and-the-egg dilemma notwithstanding, why offer midtown food outside of midtown?  I go even further and grill him: what’s the story behind the lunch menu’s inexorable decline into mediocrity?

“I cut out lunch!” he belts out while grumbling something pejorative about the chicken parmigiana. Chef Paolo is intense and he’s anything but shy.

He admits that lunch is unworkable, fighting an impossible war where fine dining, more often than not, is bound to lose. The dinner, however, is where his personality comes through.

Whereas lunch was a no-win propposition, dinner is still not without its challenges. I’m always keen to segment the menu into the sections that are obviously not what the chef wanted to serve but has to, the quasi-compromises and the gems. Chef Paolo and I pore over the menu sifting accordingly. Tonight should be special. As is tradition with Foodie Atlanta, we will let him decide our fate.

We had no idea what kind of a long journey we were in for. Chef Paolo’s eyes gleam as our meal begins. House made bread and a fruit olive oil appear, and we heartily indulge in wine. A dual blitzkrieg of Carpaccios is underway: octopus and beef. The octopus is inspiring. Forgiveness must normally go hand-in-hand with octopus; its chewy, intractable texture is part of the fleas that come with the dog. Not so in this dish. Much like our experience at Repast, the careful slicing of the octopus, along with the process used to make this dish yields a remarkably subtle and delicious experience. The beef carpaccio manages to likewise delight.

Octopus Carpaccio

Beef Carpaccio

We ate greedily when a full on assault of charcuterie and cheese was unleashed on our table. Chef Paolo, now grinning and beaming over his house-made salumi and his imported delights, starts to resemble Al Pacino in The Devil’s Advocate. Sure, he’s the devil, but you want to give into the pleasures of the flesh.  His own calabrese and dry sausage are disturbingly good. The coppa and jamón serrano that he had flown in, impressive to say the least.

The cheeses lend themselves easily to overindulgence. A healthy slab of drunken goat, a port-infused cheese, some Pecorino and  a chunk of Fontina. We’re practically elbowing each other out of the way as we reach for another bite, when a board with some grilled sweet sausage comes out. This is going to be a long evening.

We catch our breath, pick as modestly as we can at the festoon of meats and cheese that has been placed and drink more wine. It’s time to rest. Reflection is important.

Salumi!

Cheeses

Sweet sausage

A great deal of awesome conversation with Chef Paolo and the staff unfolds. We take the time to dissect the origins of the names that we give food: Carpaccio, Carbonara, Puttanesca. Chef Paolo then strikes the right chord between scoffs at French food: Italian food is simple. Both the jab at French cuisine and the remark about the simplicity of Italian food immediately reminded me of Bill Buford’s book about his experiences at Babbo and in Itay: Heat. At one point in the book, the author posits that Babbo can never truly be Italian food out of sheer complexity. Though it sounds like a harsh indictment, Buford manages to elevate Babbo by concluding that while it may be a tad too complex, its motivations are nothing if not a true homage to the cuisine of Italy, even if it ends up being a starting point and not its entirety.

Before I can finish digesting the intricacies of what’s actually underway here, more food comes out. A trio of ravioli come out: nudi, veal and braised short rib. The nudi are intoxicatingly good, and my weakness for braised fatty meats like short rib make this an easy affront to handle.

There’s more wine and more musings. This isn’t a meal anymore, it’s an experience: this is what you do when you sit down to eat with family.

Ravioli: veal, nudi and braised short rib

It's what's for dinner.

But the end isn’t near and a gargantuan plate of meats is brought. There is dry aged ribeye (48 days), generously sliced and perfectly seasoned. There is a cavalcade of lamb chops, some grilled shrimp, wilted spinach with pancetta and some beautifully roasted rosemary potatoes. We weren’t hungry, but we still dug in heartily. Gluttony, we figured, is warranted in these situations.

Time to call it quits? Of course not. Chef Paolo brings out a home made cheesecake so good and quirky, it makes everyone reevaluate their definition of cheesecake. Limoncello is drank and espressos sipped. We look at our watches and realized that we’ve been eating for over three hours and are still a bit disappointed that it has to end. All good things, we suppose, must end.

The meal has ended, but our questions remain. Can we bankroll this guy in midtown or are we being greedy? One of my pet peeves is whenever I’m asked where to go eat, but given the prerequisite that it be outside the city limits. That’s harder than asking for something that tastes divine but isn’t fattening. The rule, for me at least, is that good food will require driving into the city. I suppose that Taverna Fiorentina is the exception that proves the rule.

Anyone that hangs out with me knows that my nightlife revolves around planning my next meal, eating really well and then unwinding in a lounge, somewhere. For a while the combination was simple: patio pre-game, midtown restaurant of some sort, followed by a quick jaunt to the Halo Lounge. As of last Tuesday, I’ve managed to find a spot that can take care of all three in a pinch.

Buckhead Bottle Bar knows its comfort zone: it cares about the food without overreaching, it manages to be genuinely friendly in the world of the beautiful people and it invites you to linger. You don’t need a sponsor from the beautiful crowd to show up. Moreover, it’s solid food against a fantastic atmosphere and dare I say, the food is downright cheap at this level.

So let’s cut to the chase: what should you pay attention to?

The cornmeal crusted oysters with citrus smother were excellent. I’m  not generally one for oysters, and I tend to be highly critical of anything that’s less-than-perfectly fried, but when I go back, I’m ordering these again. The chicken liver pâte, apple jelly and toast was also good. I do have to say the mussels were nicely done and the house-made pappardelle with veal ragout was very good. How does this marriage of opposites exist? It’s comfort food meets fashion, and I’m coming back.

Main dining area

This will be one of my satellite offices.

Menu

Cornmeal Crusted Oysters, Citrus Smother

Chicken Liver Pate, Apply Jelly, Toast

Pappardelle, Veal Ragout, Mushrooms

Mussels, Fries

More mussel action

Cheesecake

Vantage point?

Foodie Atlanta seems to be on some kind of a roll. There should be two reviews posted by Sunday since earlier in the week we went to a pre-opening dinner at Buckhead Bottle Bar and tonight we’re headed over to La Taverna Fiorentina.

And of course, we owe you a video.

In the mean time, we got an email from Food Network letting us know that they’re looking for folks for their new season of Chopped.

Everybody I know is aching for me to apply. But before you start reveling in schadenfreude and being the worst kind of enabler, let me save you the time and tell you that I doubt I would ever do something like this.

For one, although I’m a competent home cook, I have no chance of actually performing well. For those that know me well, yes, my “spunky’ personality and my maniacal devotion to food would probably play well on TV. But I’m not sure I ever want to see myself from the third person. I know I’m a jerk, I don’t need the instant replay.

Also, as you know by now, the only reality TV I watch is Top Chef.

From the mailbag:

Hello

I hope this email finds you well. I have information about a fantastic culinary opportunity with The Food Network for the upcoming season of Chopped! Please note that we are not exclusively looking for Executive chefs, we actually want all chefs from all different levels. Additionally, we are always looking for women and chefs of ethnicity, to diversify the pool. We are looking for fun, outgoing and colorful CHARACTERS.

We’re gearing up for another round of casting for Season 6 and 7 of The Food Network’s HIT Mystery Basket Competition Series “Chopped” and are looking for chefs to compete from the Atlanta area and was hoping you might know the perfect person.

Below, you’ll find our Official Breakdown and links for more information. All that’s needed is a culinary resume and personal photo to apply.

Also, Please feel free to pass this information along to any and all chefs who might be interested in the opportunity. If you have any questions feel free to call me at [removed].

Chopped Website

http://www.foodnetwork.com/chopped/index.html

Chopped Official Application

http://www.choppedcasting.com/

Thanks so much! We look forward to hearing back from you and your chefs!

All the Best,

[removed]

Chopped Casting Team

Casting@notional.com

www.FoodNetwork.com/Chopped.html

–

Chopped Casting

choppedcasting@gmail.com

www.foodnetwork.com/chopped

I’m not sure where to start. This episode seems to be a little on the over-edited side. I’m not sure everyone got the best cut, after all, a story arc has to be told. But no matter, let’s address the heart of it:

Do I think Angelo was throwing Kenny et al. under the bus? Of course. Do I think it’s fair? Maybe. Do I think it says a lot about character (or lack thereof)? Yes.

I’m disappointed because I tend to take the side of the jackass with talent. As I said before, a lot of fans begin lashing out at contestants because of personality and not because of skill. I think that with great skill comes a little latitude and a modicum of arrogance is warranted. Therefore, I tend to defend the obnoxious ones as long as their technique is proportional to their attitude. But throwing someone under the bus? I can’t condone that.

That being said, we can all agree that as much “Alpha male” smack as Kenny spoke, he should take responsibility for not providing a real vegetable.  Even a cursory examination of previous seasons lets you know that if your teammates have immunity, you have to step up and make the decisions.

As far as Jacqueline: you never had a chance. Nice as a person as you may be, you have to be pathologically deluded to think you’re not going to be outclassed by some of the serious chefs that enter this competition. Did you see the past few seasons? Did you really think you were Voltaggio / Gillespie / Blais / Hung caliber here?

I hate to be mean, but it’s true.

In the previous post, I alluded to the fact that Foodie Atlanta will, from time to time, get sent unusual invitations, press releases, and endorsement opportunities. Most of it is only this side of spam, so we just ignore it. However, two items recently have been so bizarre, I feel compelled to share.

The first one is an invitation from Carraba’s. Yea, that one.

Here is the email:

Hi there –

Hope all is well!

I am writing on behalf of my client, Carrabba’s Italian Grill, to invite you to an upcoming Amici Club event.  In case you are not familiar with Carrabba’s Italian Grill – the restaurant was founded in 1986 by Johnny Carrabba and Damian Mandola. The restaurant focuses on delighting guests with fresh, made-to-order Italian cuisine and the ultimate dining experience.  Carrabba’s Amici Club allows select members to be the first to know what’s cooking at Carrabba’s and receive exclusive offers, rewards, and insider information.

As a notable blogger in the Atlanta area – we’d like to invite you and a guest to attend one of the following Amici Club dinners.  Simply please select a location and date that works best for you and let us know so that we can add you to the list.

Locations and Date

Athens June 24th 6:30 p.m.
(706) 546-9938
3194 Atlanta Highway
Athens, GA 30606

Douglasville June 28th 6:30 p.m.
(770) 947-0330
2700 Chapel Hill
Douglasville, GA 30135

Atlanta/Cumberland June 29th 6:30 p.m.
(770) 437-1444
2999 Cumberland Blvd
Atlanta, GA 30339

Town Center June 29th 6:30 p.m.
(770) 499-0338
1160 Ernest Barrett Pkwy.
Kennesaw, GA 30144

For more information on Carrabba’s please visit www.carrabbas.com.  We look forward to hearing from you – and hope that you can make it to an event!

Ciao!

I’m not trying to be an elitist obscurantist. Nor am I raising my nose at the plight of the proletariat. However, how can anyone use the phrase “ultimate dining experience” in conjunction with Carraba’s? Can’t we just agree as a civilization that there are restaurants that aim to provide ultimate dining experiences by maniacal focus on superb product and impeccable technique, and restaurants that provide “reliable” food to the people that love said food? Is it unfair to say that Carraba’s business model is based on the latter and not the former?

Have I strayed so far from the pack that I don’t realize that food blogs everywhere are fawning over Carraba’s?

In any case, the second piece of miscellany straddles the line between absurdity and humor so much so, that we’ve decided to do a video spot around it.

I promise we’ll have it this week. I promise you’ll smile.

The life of a foodie can be good.

Then there’s travel. Foodie travel can be as simple as taking a trip to New York to eat. A step further: a day lost in wine country and pilgrimage to The French Laundry. Then you start treading into the treks: a country-wide culinary tour of Spain, culminating in San Sebastián and the trips designed to hop from house to house where you are fed. The possibilities are sometimes endless.

Well, it turns out there’s one more really exciting option out there. Here at Foodie Atlanta headquarters we get sent stuff all the time, but this one actually caught my eye. It’s chef-led culinary travel.

Turns out that a company called Travel By Design is putting together such a thing. The ones that apply to us here in Atlanta are special trips led by Top Chef contestants Kevin Gillespie and Hector Santiago.

Hector Santiago’s “Gastro Trek” looks like a decadent trip to Peru that covers Lima, Cusco and Sacred Valley. And it makes me really cranky that I can’t go.

Itinerary:

Hector Santiago Gastro Trek Itinerary

Main Page:

Pura Vida

Now, at $4,500 a piece, it’s not cheap. But it is all inclusive and based on double occupancy. So let’s be realistic: you and your wife are going to blow close to ten large by the time it’s done. But if I had the money, I would.

And before you start asking yourself why in the blue banana I’m pitching you high-end culinary travel, and if this is a unsubtle way of advertising on the blog, let me be brief: no.

I just liked the idea enough to want to share.

One of our original ideas was to be able to give Foodie Atlanta readers a high-quality guide to what’s going on in the foodie scene in a given week. As many of you know, we usually err on the side of silence in order to preserve quality.

However silence helps no one and a good plan today is better than a perfect one tomorrow.

So here’s what we think you should pay attention to this week. It isn’t comprehensive, but these are some of the events that we know about that managed to grab our attention:

Saturday June 19, 2010: Midsummer Music Fest at Candler Park Festival

Sunday June 20,2010: It’s father’s day for crying out loud. Every restaurant I love has good stuff going on. I don’t know where to start.

Monday June 21, 2010: Sotto Sotto’s Querciabella Wine Dinner – when I read “Pappardelle al Coniglio” my heart went pitty-pat.

Friday June 25, 2010: 4th & Swift is celebrating their 2nd anniversary. They’ll have a prix fixe menu.

Now that’s what I call an introductory episode: awesome challenges, light on the gimmickry and solid editing. To be fair though, the elimination challenge was still in the style of Top Caterer. I guess you can’t change the nature of the beast.

The top of the pack has already established itself: Angelo, Kenny, Alex and Kevin, with the supposition that Stephen is a force to be reckoned with. I’m sure that Ed and Timothy will perform well, but I have a feeling that the above four are going to dominate. At least I was right about Angelo and Alex yet disastrously wrong about Kenny. Alpha male comments or not, the man can cook.

Too many viewers get caught up on the personality of the chefs. Just because a chef is an arrogant, possibly deluded jerk does not mean he can’t cook very well. It certainly doesn’t meant that they don’t deserve the prize. This isn’t Top Personality or Fan Favorite. This isn’t American Idol, technique matters. Performance the only badge of honor.

When I heard that John was the first to go, I was stunned. You mean an executive chef managed to perform worse than the questionable catering personalities of Amanda and Jacqueline? After watching the show, I have to say that he should have been eliminated mid-meal. Not only does he come across as equal parts creepy and certifiable, but when I saw him reach for the frozen puff pastry, I had to hang my head and shake it in disbelief.

Also, Jacqueline: have you watched the other six seasons? Low fat doesn’t get you anywhere. Sure, you acknowledged the massive error in judgement of serving grainy pâte to Ripert, but there was a problem at inception woman. NOBODY wins Top Chef by catering to the sensible side. There’s a reason for classical French cuisine. And while you’re out there extolling the viability of self-taught chefs, tell me you are at least aware of Escoffier and that somewhere on your shelves is a copy of the Larousse Gastronomique for reference. You don’t have to enjoy cooking from Le Guide Culinarie, nobody does. I get it. But next time let a fatty, salty dish be fatty. I promise that there will be some health-focused challenged where you can go about reinventing the wheel by subtracting fat.

I’m not even going to bother with the other cheftestants. I’m sure they’re fine, capable executive chefs in their own. Talented professionals with a loyal and justifiable following. I’m sure that they will get a bad cut and that their best work won’t be filmed. But they don’t have a chance.

P.S. Is it me, or does it seems that Angelo is this season’s Stephen Aspirino with a better resume and a solid set of skills? His lavender pants made my evening.

What happened? Did he get hooked on the junk? It sounds like a tragedy, but not so. Marcus Samuelsson is just on book tour, for his new book: New American Table.

I need to practice my smiling.

New American Table

Bloggers had the chance to do a meet and greet with Chef Samuelsson that was intense. In fact, that’s the only way that I can describe Samuelsson: intense. Whereas Keller seemed aloof and quietly contemplative, and Swift occasionally has to roll his eyes at my inability to shut up, Samuelsson is focused and overwhelming.

The progression of a chef is interesting. You start out in prep, eventually entrusted with line cooking, then it turns more managerial. You have to start worrying about the reach-in that’s busted, the cranky fishmonger that’s once again sending you less-than-stellar product, the bad grease trap,  if the bartender is hitting on the regulars, etc. You get the point. And God forbid you’re actually successful as an executive chef, the next step is invariably one of equity: owning the restaurant. Now it’s not just simply about cooking and management, now you’re an entrepreneur.

Then there’s celebrity.

Should you pierce the shroud of anonymity, you’re in for a world of new responsibilities. Opinions now matter. Cooking, Management, Entrepreneurship, Politics.  Samuelsson seems to work at all levels. He loves to talk about cuisines around not just a cultural framework (that one’s a given) but a framework of international trade, cultural perception and leisure travel.

His take on the pricing and perceptions of cuisines against the backdrop of how a culture is perceived by Americans was fascinating, but I can’t really do it justice in this post.  I also need to mull it over. Samuelsson makes me want to reflect carefully before writing.

In any case, the cooking demonstration was lively and fun. My big takeaway was a coconut-milk and yogurt fried chicken which, to put it mildly, was phenomenal. Sure we talked gravlax, crispy fish skin, monkfish liver and other more esoteric topics, but as trite as a fried chicken recipe can be, I think this one stole the show.

This man is either ready to cook, or about to sell me a timeshare.

Be gentle with the fish.

Tami takes the stage!

This head has been on my blog before. It's not a coincidence.

The fact that we're talking about gravlax in Alpharetta on a Wednesday has to be a good thing, no?

Blurry, but it shows Chef Samuelsson's trademark smile

Corn Crabcakes

Nothing but nothing signals the advent of the new Top Chef season like Skillet Doux’s Power Rankings.

In my opinion, Skillet Doux’s coverage of Top Chef is unparalleled. An episode isn’t truly finished until I get a little autopsy action from them.

A few thoughts:

• I completely agree with placing Jacqueline and Amanda at the bottom. I even singled out Amanda for similar reasons this during my last Top Chef posting.
• I think Tiffany’s gonna be more the punching bag of Ripert than the teacher’s pet.
• It’s just a hunch, but I think he ranked Alex way too low.
• I’ve never heard of Tex Wasabi, but my God if I’m not going to be referencing that for the next three months.
• I can’t believe I overlooked Ed last time around. Yep, this guy looks like top 3 material.

Your thoughts?

Sun In My Belly

Sundays are always hard for me. Not only does the realization that soon enough I’ll have to go back to work and with it, reality will once again set in, but my dining options are severely limited. For most, Sunday is a day of rest. And for many restaurants, particularly the good ones, you’re lucky to get dinner. As I said in the Parish brunch review, it’s logistically difficult for a restaurant to offer brunch. The soul of a restaurant is rarely found at lunch, let alone Sunday brunch. It’s not unreasonable to say that in fine dining, brunch is at best a perfunctory exercise and at worst, a necessary evil. For the foodie, brunch is hard, and if someone ever lets me write Chicken Soup for the Foodie Soul, the first chapter will surely revolve around it.

So where does the foodie begin his search for a great brunch?

Well, much like the lunch dilemma during regular school days, brunch requires you to think differently. There are very few fine dining establishments that do lunch and dinner well. Each requires a different approach to the meal. There are fundamentally different requirements around each. Where lunch constrains the experience to a shorter timespan, and there is the expectation of being able to accomplish something afterwards, dinner invites you to unwind and enjoy what is the end of the day.

Lunch is an interlude, dinner the denouement.

So what is brunch? Brunch is the both the end of the week and the teaser of a new one. Brunch is not hurried like lunch, nor is it the end of the day. Moreover, more than any other meal, brunch generally has to maneuver within the tight constraints of the cultural expectations of breakfast. Brunch-seekers demand eggs and the compulsory french toast; a biscuit would be welcome, some fresh fruit a plus. With all those prerequisites, it’s not a mystery why the brunch landscape tends to be disturbingly homogeneous and occasionally insipid.

Out of ideas and seeking new adventures, we asked the Foodie Atlanta readers where to go for brunch via our Facebook Fan Page. The consensus was that Sun In My Belly was a worthy adversary. Clad in my Sunday shorts, with my camera, my Ray Bans and Brian in tow, we made our appearance.

Double Espresso

Sun In My Belly is casual, relaxed and inviting; no secret handshake is required. Glancing over the menu didn’t reveal anything unusual or verging on the experimental. It’s a straightforward and honest meal. We ordered a pair of double espressos and carefully considered our options. After a short deliberation we opted for two dishes:  the omelet special and the fried green tomato BLT. The omelet special consisted of BBQ pulled pork, red onions and avocado with a side of homemade biscuits. The fried green tomato BLT was crafted with sourdough, thick-cut bacon, scallion mayonnaise, and a side of hashed potatoes.

The short version: the omelet was good, the BLT great, the biscuits disappointing.

BBQ Pulled-Pork Omelet, Red Onions, Avocado

Fried Green Tomato BLT, Take 1

Fried Green Tomato BLT, Take 2

The fried green tomato was a magnificent specimen

If we must deconstruct, let’s begin with the omelet. The BBQ pulled pork was well executed, and the ratio of pork to avocado to red onion was appropriate. It was a good omelet and one that I’d have again. But the problem was in the details. The avocado seemed elusive and the pulled pork,  far too big to eat elegantly. An omelet is a marriage of flavors and textures, and one shouldn’t have to play with their food in order to get a good bite. We had to tussle a bit with the omelet, carefully cutting and rearranging to get a good bite that represented all flavor profiles.  To elevate this dish to great, a finer mince of the pulled pork and more carefully sliced avocados would have gone a long way.

The biscuits were not good. Having cooked many, many batches of biscuits in my life, I’m keenly aware of the challenges with making great biscuits. Biscuits are very perishable creatures that are best only when served warm and fresh. These specimens were tough and seemed to have either peaked hours before we showed up, or were born flawed. Maybe it was an off day for the biscuits.

The BLT was truly great. The lettuce was intensely green and leafy, never delivering one of those watery, hollow, chunky bites that makes for an exercise in chewing. The bacon was not greasy and the fried green tomato was downright righteous. Fried green tomatoes were one of those things that I never understood of Southern cuisine. Today, I stand corrected. But the star of the sandwich was the scallion mayonnaise: a noble emulsion with a noble aromatic commingling in perfect unison. If you eat there soon, please try this dish. As a side for the BLT we enjoyed the hashed potatoes, whose addition of roasted red bell pepper was a welcome one.

In the end, we were happy to have eaten at Sun In My Belly and will certainly revisit regularly. However, it’s not the end of our quest to find a superb brunch. It doesn’t reinvent brunch or raise the stakes or force you to pay attention. It doesn’t represent a tour de force of technique and it won’t make you reevaluate your expectations of a brunch. But I don’t think that it was ever its intent. Sun In My Belly is too mellow and too unpretentious for that. Maybe Sun In My Belly understands the true nature of Sunday better than I do, and I need to reflect on that.

In the mean time, I’ll say that Sun In My Belly may not qualify as fine dining, but it is the definition of a neighborhood gem.

Welcome