bite-sized review: chinese buddha

Looking for the best Chinese food in Atlanta? Sorry, it’s not here. Looking for the best Chinese food you can find in Atlanta at 2 o’clock in the morning? Oh! Well, why didn’t you say so the first time? Welcome to Chinese Buddha. The service is quick, the atmosphere is just the loungelike respite one might need after the club, or to escape an all-night study or coding session. The food is slightly above average (be sure to try the Thai selections too), and even if it’s not 2 am, you could do a lot, lot worse.

cheers,

k

Chinese Buddha
100 10th Street Northwest
404.874.5158
http://www.buddharestaurant.com/

ann’s snack bar – urban icon, urban legend

People – especially Southerners, and especially Southerners in the ‘hood – have a tendency to exaggerate.

Hey, man! You seen Tiny lately? That boy done got big as a house!”
“Don’t say?”
“Yeah, I saw him last Tuesday and I swear fo’ God you could land a plane on his backside!”

Exaggeration and braggadocio are simply part of the parlance of the South and especially of those well-known Southern ‘hoods like Kirkwood – home of Ms. Ann’s Snack bar and – as the red painted words on the side of the building will tell you – home of the “World famous ghetto burger”.
Now, I’m not certain if people in other countries have heard of Ms. Ann or her monstrously sized burgers, but due to a 2007 article in the WSJ, the ghetto burger received national acclaim as the nation’s # 1 burger. ‘Nationally Renowned Ghetto Burger’ doesn’t quite have the same snappy ring to it, plus the shack-sized snack bar probably doesn’t have enough room for all those extra letters, so… world-famous it is. Regardless, both the burger and the woman are famous enough in local circles to have become the stuff of legend, and since rumor has it that Ms. Ann will be hanging up her spatula for good this month (not the 1^st time that rumor has surfaced, mind you), I felt it was my duty to pay her a visit before the legend became history.

I approached the screen door of the snack bar with a feeling of trepidation. Ms. Ann’s reputation preceded her, and the image I’d painted of her in my head was somewhere between the Soup Nazi and the Great Oz. I’d heard of her long list of rules prominently posted above the counter, and had been repeatedly warned with tales of what happened to those who dared not follow them – a fate that could range from being yelled at to being thrown out. I couldn’t remember all of the rumored rules, but the ones I did remember seemed simple enough: no talking on cell phones, no cussing, no babies on the lunch counter, the standard no-shirt-no-shoes-no-service, and the most important of all: if there are no seats available at the 8-seat lunch counter, do not come inside.

Unfortunately, when I arrived, the counter was full, but an elderly couple was preparing to leave, so I took a seat on the worn white patio furniture in the snack bar’s ‘waiting area’.  On a previous attempted visit, both the counter and the waiting area were full, and the wait was up to 2 hours. Needless to say, I felt lucky to only have a few minutes pass before going inside.

Once there, I claimed one of the open stools at the far end of the counter and took a few moments to soak in the scene. That prominently displayed list of rules, as it turned out, wasn’t so prominent after all. It was mostly obscured by framed photographs of previous diners – local politicians and figures of note – with time-faded signatures and words

of gratitude scribbled in the corners of each. Behind the counter, I spied the legend herself, a cocoa-colored, wiry older woman who was moving rather nimbly between an impossibly small griddle loaded with impossibly large hamburger patties, and a dilapidated fridge stocked to the brim with burger toppings and large plastic jugs of tea, lemonade, and red punch. On the opposite wall of the restaurant was another framed picture, this one larger than the rest – a black-and-white graduation photograph of a young Ms. Ann… smiling. On one of her passes from griddle to fridge, Ms. Ann stopped to chat with a couple and their two young daughters that were seated next to me. During the exchange, the smile appeared again. I was beginning to wonder if I had stumbled into the wrong Ms. Ann’s Snack Bar. Maybe this was a Bizarro Ms. Ann that had no rules and treated customers with a smile instead of a snarl. Just then, she stepped over to take my order.

“What you gon’ have?”

A little more brusque than I would have expected anywhere else, but the tone was really to let me know that if I was going to be one of these indecisive or overly picky customers, she was not going to be the one to indulge me. It was just the reality check I needed to convince me that I was indeed in the right place.

I had originally planned to order the ghetto burger – a monstrous, structurally unsound assembly of two burger patties topped with sautéed onions, chili, bacon, cheese, lettuce, and tomato – but after watching my dining neighbor struggle with his, I decided to opt for a more sensible selection: a cheeseburger, fries, and a lemonade

I’ve always been a fan of watching my food being cooked, it’s about as close as you can get to cooking something yourself, plus it’s an opportunity to see the skill and love that the person preparing your food puts into it. You get a greater sense of appreciation and connection to the end result than you do when your plate of food just magically arrives from somewhere in the back. Once you’ve seen Ms. Ann hand-shape those huge beef patties, slap them on the grill with all of the finesse of a mustachioed Swedish masseuse named Helga, then move back and forth in the narrow cooking space behind the counter with the automated assurance of someone who’s been doing this for decades, you will most certainly appreciate the end result when she sets it in front of you. My cheeseburger – topped with sautéed onions, lettuce, and tomato – almost completely filled one Styrofoam plate, while my order of fries – dusted with seasoned salt – filled another. I took my first bite of the world-famous, nationally renowned burger, and found it to be… good. Was it the best burger I’d ever had? Was it, for that matter, better than something I could have made in my own kitchen? Not really. But it was good. Well seasoned, well done, topped with fresh ingredients, and so large that even with my most earnest attempt, I couldn’t possibly finish the whole thing.

In Latin American, Caribbean, and Asian countries, street and neighborhood food vendors are a prominent feature of the dining-out landscape. The personalities of the proprietors are often as much of a draw as the food itself, and those that stay in the game for years usually become larger-than-life personas as a result of the local lore surrounding them. By contrast, the majority of the American dining public has abandoned neighborhood food stands in favor of a more anaesthetized, highly styled eating experience. So the fact that Ms. Ann is still holding her own after 37+ years, and continues to draw crowds of locals and visitors alike, proves that she and her ghetto burger are most definitely legends. No exaggeration required.

cheers,

k

 Ann’s Snack Bar
1615 Memorial Dr
Atlanta, GA 30317
(404) 687-9207

highland tap’s 20th – nightly specials 4/27-5/3

Thank God there are still some people who know how to celebrate their birthdays in grand style!

Highland Tap turns 20 years old this week, and they’re offering old and new patrons a host of tasty specials and nightly events during their weeklong celebration April 27 – May 3.

To kick off the festivities, co-owner Chip Ney held a small gathering to showcase some of Chef Bert Chapman’s appetizer creations. Here’s the rundown of my favorites:

Seared Ahi Tuna
As I’ve mentioned before, I’m not a huge fan of tuna. But Chef Bert makes me wanna eat those words along with every morsel of tuna on the plate. The medallions of tuna were seared perfectly with a nice edge of firmness on the outside and a cool, melt-in-your mouth center. Accented by a marinade with flavors of sesame and soy, little slivers of wakame, and a hint of very subtle smokiness that must come from Highland Tap’s hickory grill…. I couldn’t stop eating them!

Jumbo Lump Crab Cakes
Dense, meaty, lump crab with a crispy panko crust, nicely seasoned, but not so much that the delicate flavor of the crab had to compete with anything other than the fork and the gnashing of my teeth.

Spinach Artichoke Dip
You’d think there’d be nothing spectacular to mention about something so pub-pedestrian as spinach-artichoke dip and toast points. But, surprisingly…there is. The dip is delightfully smooth and creamy without being overly cheesy – the flavors of spinach and artichoke still shine through. The bits of toasted French bread are crisp enough to stand up to the creamy dip, but still soft enough that they don’t end up raping the roof of your mouth.

Perfect Martini
In a city with as many discriminating boozers as this one, if you’ve been awarded the prize of Best Martini in Atlanta, you’d better have the stuff to prove it. Highland Tap’s medaled martini is a stellar example of form meeting function. A pour of the vodka-version comes served in standard martini glass along with a sidecar of extra martini in a tiny pitcher on ice. The fact that I can keep topping off my glass after I’ve taken a few sips, somehow makes the perfect tasting cocktail taste even better.

Here’s the list of nightly specials that Highland Tap will offer this week:

Entrée Choices – $20
Monday – Baby Back Ribs with Fries
Tuesday – Country Fried Pork Chop with Mac & Cheese
Wednesday – Crab Cakes with Mashed Potatoes, Asparagus
Thursday – Jumbo Sea Scallops with Stir Fry Veggies
Friday – Petite Filet with Choice of Side
Saturday- Steak Oscar
Sunday – Seafood Fettuccine

Wine Choices – $20/ bottle
Monday – Fairvalley Sauvignon Blanc
Tuesday- Louis Latour Pinot Noir
Wednesday- Pine & Post Chardonnay
Thursday- Hahn Merlot
Friday – Clos Du Bois Marlstone
Saturday – Penfolds Cab
Sunday- Glass Mountain Chardonnay

Beverage Specials
Sam Adams High Gravity Beer – Bucket of 4 – $20
2 Grey Goose Vodka or Bulldog Gin Martinis in a Shaker- $20
Sam Adams Draft- $2 (keep the glass)

cheers,

k

best fries in the a

I know I shouldn’t love them as much as I do, but…I do. I mean some people like french fries, but I truly love them.  You know, kinda like an addict truly loves crack. Ask any friend of mine who’s made the unwise decision to reach for a couple of fries from my plate. Let’s just say, no one has ever done it more than once.

This weekend, I happened across Meredith Ford’s latest list of the 5 best fries in Atlanta. Of course, being the fry fiend that I am, I made a mental note to check out a couple of the places on her list whose fried taters I haven’t yet sampled (Shaun’s and Porter Beer Bar), but there were others that I was surprised made the cut (Steak and Shake? really?). After reading, it inspired me to pen my own list of Atlanta restaurants with the best fries.

Check ‘em out and let me know if there’s some other places you know of in the city where I should be fueling my addiction.

 5. Five Guys Burgers and Fries

Something about the whole Five Guys fry experience is just, well…dirty. But that’s part of what makes them so good. Oh you’re just gonna throw the fries into a little styrofoam cup? How delightfully low-brow! Grease stains on the bag? But someone might see…oh hell, I don’t care. Give ‘em to me, give them all to me! Let them spill over the cup into the bag. Let the cajun seasoning stick to my fingers so I have to lick it off. And when I’m done devouring them like I have absolutely no home training, hand me a napkin so I can ever so daintily dab the evidence off my lips. Nothing to see here, folks. Keep it movin’.

4. Eclipse di Luna

Here’s where Meredith and I definitely agree. This authentic tapas restaurant serves up fried potatoes with a Spanish flair. Eclipse di Luna’s patatas bravas are chunky cut, covered in a saffron-hued seasoning mix, and served with a side of romesco sauce, which is sort of like a spicy aioli. Ay, que sabrosos!

3. Corner Tavern

Honestly, the fries at Corner Tavern are only slightly above average. But what pushes them to such a high place on my list are the dipping sauces, of which there are six to choose from. An order of the never-frozen, skin-on spuds comes with your choice of not one, not two, not three… but FOUR dipping sauces! My faves are: curried ketchup, BBQ, and Thai chili (I usually double up on this one).

2. Cafe di Sol  

The shoestring potato often gets the shun from me. Mainly because most places just don’t do them right. They’re either so thin that they fry up hard and insubstantial; or they’re underseasoned and just taste like… shoestrings. Cafe di Sol, however, avoids both of those missteps. Their hand-cut shoestrings are just thin enough to get a good crispy exterior, but thick enough so you still enjoy the mouth feel of the fluffy interior. They’re also liberally seasoned with a mixture of what I think is garlic, salt, and pepper, and sprinkled with fresh chives. I effs with these crabcakes.

1. The Shed at Glenwood

The reason for The Shed at Glenwood claiming the #1 spot in my list can be summed up in three words. Black. Truffle. Powder. A light sprinkling of this earth-colored pixie dust takes an already spectacular fry to drool-worthy proportions. The Shed’s taters are made like the traditional Belgian fry (should it really come as any surprise that the folks who give us such great beer would also have such good fries?). Cut into batons and fried twice – once on low heat and once at extremely high heat – the result is a crispy fry with a luxuriously creamy interior. But thankfully, even perfection isn’t good enough for The Shed. Chef Lance Gummere makes them absolutely decadent by adding black truffle powder – which retails for around $15 an ounce. But it’s worth every penny. The powder imparts a rich, umami flavor that’s almost like eating meat. OPULENCE! Thank you Chef Lance! And shouts out to the Belgians. Oh, and uh…good looking out, pigs.

 cheers,

 

k

not getting good head?

Lately, I’ve become quite the beer lover. My guy has introduced me to the wonderful world of high-gravity Belgian beer (so named for the

higher-than-normal alchohol content) and craft beers brewed right here in the US. In doing so, he’s also exposed me to a growing cult of beer aficionados who are just as picky and passionate about their brews as wine snobs are about their drink of choice.

The picky side ranges from how to properly pronounce a beer (e.g., Smithwick’s = Smitticks) to how to properly pour one. Believe me, there’s nothing that brings a bigger smile to a beer-o-philes face than a perfectly poured brew, with just the right amount of nose-tickling foam floating on top.

Perusing the web today, I happened across a number of beer tips and tricks, including a helpful video from Chow that shows you how to get a perfect head (or collar) every time.

Wait. What did you think I was talking about?

Check it out:

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long-lost loca luna

Do you remember that guy from high school that you went out on a date with once and never called back? Then, years later you run into him and you think, “Wow, so-and-so has really changed. Wonder why we never worked out?” Loca Luna is sort of like that guy for me.

The first experience I had with LL was when it was located on Juniper. All I remembered of the night was that: the parking was terrible, the place was too crowded and seemed a little dark and dank, and the food was…decent. Needless to say, I never returned.

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luckie’s charm

When you walk into Luckie, the first thing you notice is the décor. Taking a cue from its next door neighbor – the Georgia Aquarium – the entrance (a.k.a., The Ocean Foyer) is swathed in subtle blue up- and down- lights, and features a huge saltwater aquarium containing exotic-looking fish. As you scan the rest of the restaurant, you’ll notice that somebody did a helluva feng shui job here. All of the elements are represented: smooth river rocks encased in metal cages, chocolate-hued wood paneling, sturdy sprigs of lucky bamboo coiling out of frosted glass vases, and well-integrated lighting that slowly pulses from amber, to deep ocean blue, to soft magenta. And if all that wasn’t enough for ya: 4 huge flat screens posted above the open-air kitchen each display images of either news, sports, or Beyonce’s wiggling booty.

Soon after the visual effect hits you, the sensory seduction continues with the irresistible smell of a wood-burning oven wafting from the kitchen. Your mouth will instinctively begin to water before you’ve even glanced at the menu.

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noche: beware the monday special

A friend of mine recently hipped me to the Monday all-you-can-eat tapas specials at two of Here to Serve group’s restaurants – Shout and Noche. In general, I’m kind of wary of all-you-can-eat specials, since it’s usually a euphemism for, ‘hey come eat a sh*tload of crappy food for a trifle’. Add to that the fact that I’d just finished reading Anthony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential, in which he gives the following warning about ‘Monday specials’:

Never order fish on Mondays, especially if it is a “Special”. By Monday, the fish is already 4 days old. The chef places his fish order on Thursday… he assumes that if he has any left on Sunday he can get rid of it on Sunday and as a “Special” on Monday. So, most likely that tuna you plan to order on Monday night has been hanging out in the restaurant’s reach-in cooler, with the doors opening every few minutes during the dinner rushes, for at least 4 days.

But the lure of a belly full of food for $10 on a night I am usually just too drained to cook, was enough to convince me that I should at least give it a try.

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