Dear Krystal,
We’ve been together a long time, and exclusively for a few years now, haven’t we? It’s been a good time, and I have no complaints, honestly. But I find myself in the awkward position of having to write you an unhappy letter now. Well, just remember that I love you, and maybe always will, and let me tell you the whole story. Continue reading “Don’t Ask Me Why”
I’m a sucker for attention and personalized service from owners of good restaurants. Chef Henry Chandler either saw me walking along Acworth’s main street, looking in windows and snapping photos of the beautiful old buildings and figured me for some loudmouth with a web page, or he treats everybody who comes into his place as a valuable guest, because I hadn’t been in his restaurant for fifteen seconds before he took me by the hand, welcomed me with a roar and thanked me for coming. Continue reading “Henry’s Louisiana Grill, Acworth GA”
This is Marie, contributing an article about breakfast. Recently, my brother came for a visit. He is more of a hearty eater than I am. For one thing, he likes bacon. Although we have a number of excellent breakfast places, my current dietary limitations mean it’s not quite as much fun to go to places like the delightful Stilesboro Biscuits. On his first day here, we went to a national chain restaurant. I decided that for his second day here that an alternate had to be found. Which is ironic, because we wound up going to a chain after all – the difference being that it was a local chain that started right here in Marietta. Karl suggested J. Christopher’s, and I am glad he pointed it out because otherwise I might not have known it was that local. They currently have 22 stores in Georgia and Tennessee. Continue reading “J. Christopher’s, Kennesaw GA”
A growing little pizza business that started in Athens has been on my radar for ages, since they started getting lots of press and regular notices from one of that city’s best food writers, the wonderful Hillary Brown of Flagpole. Unfortunately, at the time that I’m writing this, that newspaper’s web site archive is unavailable, thanks to an alleged attack of “spam monkey trolls,” so I can’t look back and refresh my memory about anything, but if I remember correctly, Your Pie sort of arrived fully-formed, corporate and ready for franchising in 2008. There are already eight stores in Georgia – it was spotting the lone Atlanta-area location, in Roswell, that reminded me to try these guys out – along with two stores each in Florida and South Carolina. There’s a thirteenth coming to Murfreesboro, near the MTSU campus, pretty soon. Continue reading “Your Pie and The Royal Peasant, Athens GA”
I will always associate El Pollo Loco with death.
That’s hardly fair, of course, but that’s how these things happen. One of my earliest memories is the death of an uncle named Ruford, who married my father’s oldest sister before Dad was born. This is, in part, why I am convinced that there must have been some old family contract that made it illegal for anybody to marry into my family unless they had a name as silly as any of ours. My grandfather had a sensible name like Joseph, gave all five of his kids oddball names, and the oldest of them married somebody with a name like Ruford.
Anyway, Ruford died when I was five or so, and somebody, probably his daughter, my cousin Sandie, told all of us small ones who were at the hospital that somebody had brought some Mississippi mud cake for us and it was back at the house. Ever since then, Mississippi mud cake has been off my menu. Seeing its name in print reminds me of the first time that I ever encountered death, and my kindergarten-aged self shudders inside.
I was really pleased to hear that El Pollo Loco was entering the Atlanta market in 2007, because, of course, I am interested in smaller chains. One of the first of what would be perhaps nine – down from a planned and announced fifty – opened on Holcomb Bridge Road in Roswell. I would drive right past it on my way home from work. Now, at that job, on the last business day of each month, everybody had to stay late until everybody else had finished and the books were balanced, possibly because my boss was Bill Lumbergh. So on the last business day of the month, my mother would pick up the children from school for me, since heaven knew when I would leave, and I would get supper somewhere in Roswell and enjoy a good book.
So, I settled on trying out the new El Pollo Loco that November, left sometime after the sun went down and somebody’s financing was finally approved and a contract written, got in the car and my phone rang. It was the children’s mother, calling to say that her mother was in the hospital. This was a Friday; I asked whether she wanted me to bring the children to Knoxville the next day to see her, and she said, firmly, not to, to give it a week. She then took a sharp turn for the worse and died on Wednesday morning.
Not that I had any kind of love left for anybody in that family, but, for my children, I should have told her that I was coming anyway, and just gone home and packed. Instead, I spent Friday night wowing the avocado sauce on El Pollo Loco’s salsa bar. I ate at three of the city’s El Pollo Loco locations quite a few times in 2008 and 2009, before I cut fast food from the diet, and always enjoyed the meals here. But with every one of them, I heard that voice in the back of my head saying “You should have taken your kids to see their grandmother one last time.”
Which is a pretty unfair thing to do to myself; hell, earlier in 2007, I deliberately curtailed a plan to drive straight from Toronto home to Atlanta in one go, just to give these rotten kids a few hours with her. You’d think that’d give me a little pass on the guilt, but guilt’s a stupid, senseless thing, and that’s why El Pollo Loco never meant “the crazy chicken” to me. It meant death.
Tomorrow’s News Today, a good site about Atlanta retail that locals should certainly be reading, wrapped up the restaurant’s four-and-a-half-year run in the region with an obituary and recap and noted that three of the nine stores indeed formally changed their name to The Crazy Chicken, an act which surely must have been borne of desperation.
While they were with us, though, El Pollo Loco served up some pretty good meals for what it was. I always thought of it as a cross between a Mrs. Winners and a Del Taco. Sure, you could find better if you wanted to pay a little more, but when it was convenient for us to stop by the Smyrna, Marietta or Roswell stores for a cheap, reliable meal and load up on chicken burritos and chips and salsa, this was a little better than the average.
I’d been telling myself for months to stop back by the Smyrna store, because the sluggish halt to the franchise group’s expansion plans sounded like it would make a good story. I put it off too long; even after the Marietta “Crazy Chicken” had shuttered and become an IHOP, I just kept saying that I’d get around to Smyrna eventually, and never did. We’ll just have to see them on the west coast, if we ever make it out that way.
In the meantime, I continue to wait impatiently for that long-promised Del Taco to finally open in Snellville. The obituary linked above suggests that this location might finally open in February 2012. I’m starting to get impatient.
A few Fridays back, I took Marie and the children out for supper. Naturally, I’d heard talk about Denver’s Smashburger chain and their decision to invade our turf. I feel pretty confident in the quality of Atlanta’s home-grown burger joints; Smashburger must be pretty confident in their ability to show us up at our own game.
Other burger joints have tried; their store in the Lindbergh neighborhood has actually gone into the space that Fatburger vacated. So, is Smashburger good enough to play with the big boys?
The answer is emphatically yes. This is a much better meal than what Fatburger offered. It’s considerably better than Grindhouse, and it’s better than Cheeseburger Bobby’s, which is really good, but most of Atlanta’s never-cross-the-perimeter crowd still don’t know about. It’s a lot better than Five Guys. Your mileage may vary, but I enjoyed the heck out of this.
On our first visit, I had the Atlanta Burger. One of this chain’s really fun quirks is to tailor one menu item to go with each city where they open. So our town’s signature burger comes with pimento cheese, peach barbecue sauce, grilled jalapenos and cole slaw. It was terrific; I enjoyed it with a side of fried pickles and was ready for a second. Actually, I think that they’re missing one cute trick here. You know how everybody who writes about food on the internet talks with a wink about In-N-Out Burger and their “secret” menu? Smashburger should definitely have ingredients and recipes for all these signature burgers in the system, so that, even not on the menu, a guest in Atlanta can ask for a Denver burger, or whatever. Sadly, on a follow-up visit, where I had the “Ultimate Cheese” – excellent, but really more defined by the pile of fried onions than the cheese – the manager said that you’d have to order the signatures “manually,” using the “create your own” ingredients, and hope the local store has what you need.
On that first visit, Marie had a classic burger and really liked it, and did a “create your own” the next time out. On the first visit, she had the fries tossed in a little herb mixture of olive oil and rosemary, and sweet potato fries the next time. We agree that these are better burgers than most places in the city, and certainly in the top ten.
Now, while many of this city’s bloggers have been covering the burgers quite well (Amy on Food, as always, has some terrific photos in her short report), I don’t see where anybody has mentioned the salads. My daughter, who loves good burgers, decided to get a salad this evening, and none of us were prepared for its size. While the basic burger, available in three sizes, is quite sensibly proportioned, the salad comes in a bucket only slightly smaller than your head. Don’t order one of these unless you’d like to share. In all, it is really good food and quite nicely priced. The three of us ate well for under $20.
Electing to continue visiting places that are all the rage this summer, after we finished, we passed on a Smashburger milkshake – made from Häagen-Dazs ice cream – and drove over to Pie Shop in Buckhead to see what they had to offer. I think that I broke Marie. Sometimes, food makes her so happy that strange things happen. We went back to my mother’s house to pick up her car and she fell asleep on the couch, dreaming of blueberries.
Now, one thing that I really didn’t like about Pie Shop was having to pay to park, but that’s the suburbanite in me talking. I’ve got old-fashioned ideas about parking in strip malls. This place is located around the back of an old strip center, above and behind a nail place, on Roswell Road, between the Shane’s Rib Shack and the Roxy, and parking costs five bucks*. If you were going to just hop in to buy a pie to go – they run between $30 and $40, or $4.60 a slice – you could probably get away with it, but if you’re going to stay for your dessert and a glass of milk, you’d probably better cough up the money.
Okay, the other thing that I really didn’t like was that I read The Food Abides’ glowing review of the place earlier that afternoon and was roaring ready to try their ganache pie. They didn’t have any. I had to make do with chocolate cream, which is just about my favorite kind of pie anyway, other than shoofly. It was amazing. I had a scoop of whipped cream along with it. You’ve never had whipped cream so good. I washed it down with a glass of milk. It took quite a long time to finish. If I hadn’t paid my five bucks, they could’ve towed my car twice over. It was just so rich and wonderful that I had to eat it very slowly.
The pie that ended up knocking Marie out was the blueberry. After some debate, my daughter went for the key lime, which was fresh out of the oven. It’s fun to watch her at work. My daughter does not often praise business owners or thank them for meals, unless she’s so bowled over that a fuss must be made. She ended up telling one of the girls that work there that she loved the food, and, in answer to their sign, as a pie lover, she should work there and asked would they hire her. Never mind that she’s twelve.
There isn’t really enough room at Pie Shop to linger. Most of the interior is given over to the baking area, with cooking tables and ovens, with just two tables for guests to sit. I thought the place was completely charming and the food was just remarkable, but we might do better to pick up some slices to take back to my mother’s place next time. For one, we won’t have to pay to park (but see below), and for another, we can more safely enjoy a food coma with a sofa upon which to collapse.
*Update: An unfortunate mistake here; Pie Shop’s owner, Mims, wrote to let us know that the parking is enforced only during the later evening, when the clubs are open! Nothing is stopping you. Go!
Update: In early December, Smashburger moved into our neighborhood with a store on Barrett Parkway in front of Town Center. It’s very nice to have such a quality meal available so close to us, especially with the yummy pimento cheeseburger as an option.
Other blog posts about Pie Shop:
The Food Abides (June 19 2011)
Amy on Food (Aug. 5 2011)
Iron Stef (Jan. 31 2012)
Here’s a first for our blog. Today, I’m writing about a restaurant where I did not get to eat. Before anybody harrumphs about any lack of journalistic integrity, however, it is a place where I have eaten previously. About four months before we started the blog, Marie’s father took us to dinner at Blue Water, a nice casual American restaurant on Mallery Street in the last building on the right as you’re approaching the Saint Simons Pier. On that occasion, I had the Mardi Gras pasta and really enjoyed it. Continue reading “Blue Water Cafe and Barberitos, St. Simons Island GA”
Marie, Let's Eat! 