One Eared Stag and Rosa’s Pizza, Atlanta GA

It took me a lot longer to get over to One Eared Stag than I would have liked. I was all set to head that way after an early shift a few Fridays back, when Marie texted me to say that she’d been in a minor fender bender. That started a chain of missed opportunities and changed plans that finally resolved towards the end of October when David and I made our way down to Edgewood Avenue to try them out.

The street looks like a sleepy little place during the daytime, but the silence is punctuated by the sound of MARTA trains and church bells. Since just about everybody’s talking about it – The Quick + Dirty Dirty named it her new favorite Atlanta restaurant, for example – I was expecting a much larger crowd than we found, but we had the place mostly to ourselves on a Thursday just before noon. It was nice enough to eat on the patio, and this really is a pleasant hideaway. The interior is designed in that bland, austere style common to many modern urban restaurants (and, apparently, little changed from when this space housed chef Robert Phalen’s previous venture, Shaun’s), but the patio, surrounded by the old brick of the buildings around it, is a lovely little oasis.

Despite the slow pace, our server is perhaps one of the busiest men in the city. He told us that he works three part-time jobs. I was reminded of a classic, Cam Kennedy-illustrated episode of Judge Dredd where somebody tried that in the 90% unemployment world of Mega-City One and went to jail for it. He cautioned David and I against ordering too many sides for our meals, as they were all pretty substantial. I thought I was splurging, as I couldn’t decide between the chickpea fries, great big thick monsters recommended by Atlanta Restaurant Blog, and the onion rings, which are completely delicious and among the best in the city. David added a pile of pork skins to the repast, served on a butcher’s block with a large pinch of sea salt and a little dipping jar of vinegar.

David’s crab roll sandwich was a sight to see. It comes on bread baked by Alon’s, split vertically so that it stands up, stuffed with the crab. Neal later said that it looked ridiculous. “Sandwiches should lie down and take their punishment,” he joked. My sandwich, an indulgent BLT with a fried egg, was indeed lying down waiting for me to slide the egg off onto a plate rather than risk the mess of melting yolk. The bacon was thick-cut and chewy, and the lettuce and tomato fresh and delicious. I briefly had menu envy over David’s cucumber and radish salad until I dug into my side of incredibly fresh greens with a light drizzle of a dressing. I’d like to think that made up a little for all the fried stuff in front of me.

We passed on dessert, as David had a mind to walk around Broad Street, and I figured that I might find something there to try. Broad Street is a curious and old little strip of mainly lunch-only restaurants, catering to downtown businessmen, GSU students and, lately, Occupy Wall Streeters. I almost went for a gelato, but I was taken by the line coming out of Rosa’s Pizza, and decided that a slice would be my dessert.

Interestingly, there are two different Rosa’s in the region. If I understand correctly, the one downtown, with a second location near me in Cobb County’s Lassiter district, is not affiliated with the Rosa’s in Johns Creek.

Anyway, this place offers New York-style by-the-slice pies. The pies are actually made ahead of time with sauce and cheese, and toppings added as guests file slowly past the oven, logjamming at the register, where a hilarious woman takes payment for orders. The staff is lovably sassy and fun. The fellow assembling toppings fruitlessly negotiated with the girl ahead of me to bring him back a beer from a neighborhood bottle shop, and she gave me some playful stink about ordering anchovies, turning her head as she held the offending box at arm’s length and yelping a Pythonesque “Wurrrrgh!”

I left the restaurant laughing. The pizza was not really anything special – my heart sank a little when I saw the premade pies awaiting reheating in the oven – but the lively and fun atmosphere had me eating it in a good mood.

A Friday Night’s Eating, Atlanta GA

The situation was grim. Marie had requested that we spend the second weekend of October relaxing. After several out-of-town trips in September and the madness of the convention over the first weekend of the month, she wanted a Saturday where we didn’t do anything. That meant that if I wanted some new things to talk about, then on Friday night, I needed to please everybody with a couple of small meals and a couple of great desserts.

There was, first, the problem of my daughter. I had decided that I wanted to go back to Everybody’s, the terrific pizza joint by Emory’s main campus, but I was not keen on being so far away from my daughter while she was at a football game in the suburbs. She didn’t want to come eat pizza. “You’ll just put anchovies on it,” she said, not unreasonably. A bribe was necessary.

“What if we get ice cream afterward?” I asked. She declined.

“What if we get Jake’s ice cream, then?” Oh. That changed things. She’d drop the lead singer of My Chemical Romance on his butt for a scoop of Jake’s.

Then Marie piped in. She can’t eat ice cream, as I should remember. The dairy gets in her breast milk and gives the baby stomach aches. We would have to get desserts from two different places, at least once I figured out where you can get any Jake’s these days. She also wasn’t keen on pizza for the same reason. Maybe we could get a hamburger somewhere instead.

Imagine. There are some people in this world who would handle this problem with a single trip to a Picadilly Cafeteria. I hope we never turn into those people. In point of fact, I wouldn’t mind if this baby one day piped up to demand we insert stops for seafood and chicken mull into the menu. While we live in a city as large as Atlanta, there’s not one blessed thing stopping us from having the best of all possible worlds in one evening. Well, apart from the chicken mull. We’d have to drive to Athens for that, but we could come back here for the ice cream and cake.

The children and I picked up Marie at work, allowing her fellow employees to admire the baby for a few minutes – well, and the tween girl as well, I suppose – and giving Marie a chance to feed him. We then made our slow, agonizing way from Dunwoody through Friday “rush” hour traffic to Decatur.

Everybody’s has been serving the community for forty years now and, while fad and fashion have thrown other pizza places in the limelight, I still believe that Everybody’s serves one of the best pies in the region. Vingenzo’s might have knocked it out of my Atlanta top five, but it’s still a great pizza and worth a visit. This was actually the slowest I’ve ever seen it, but we arrived before the Friday dinner rush really got going.

With Marie planning for a burger in a few minutes’ time and the threat of anchovies infuriating my daughter, they simply shared a salad and some amazing breadsticks. My individual pie was, unwittingly, a carnivore’s delight, with anchovies, chicken, and Italian sausage. I promise that I intended to have them with tomatoes and peppers, but something went stupid in my brain once I sat down. I have no legitimate excuse, but good grief, was it ever good.

Afterward, we walked down to the end of this strip mall to Wonderful World. I should note that we took the risk of leaving our car in Everybody’s lot and leaving the premises. I have heard, before and since, that this is never a good idea. We didn’t get towed or booted, but I don’t advise doing this.

Wonderful World has very quietly been grilling up some of the very best hamburgers in the city, without attention or hype, sliding their sliders right under everyone’s radar during the last three years of the city’s hamburger madness. I’m certain I never heard of this place at all before I looked up Everybody’s on Urbanspoon the day before we went down and was amused to see the name of this place listed as “nearby.” The name tickled me, because I frequently get one of two different songs named “Wonderful World” stuck in my head.

Anyway, Wonderful World is a very small side venture by Stephen Chan, who has opened a small chain of cafes called Tin Drum around the city. It has received virtually no attention from my fellow hobbyists, although Evan Mah, from The Toothfish, gave it a good review when it opened two years ago. Two years! This is one of the best hamburgers in the city, for pete’s sake. Folk need to get over here and try one.

They’re quite small and very nicely priced. Most are under $3 and are made from fresh, local beef, never frozen. The fries are also fresh and just incredibly yummy. We’ve had some good burgers lately. In fact, we’ve had a lot of ’em. This knocks just about all of them to the side, easily ranking among the juiciest and tastiest our town can offer. I had the WonderfulBurger, which comes with cheese, lettuce, pickles and a house sauce. It was just perfect.

I really like the interior decor a lot, too. Slotted wood paneling covers the lights behind them, resulting in a very comfortable and laid-back vibe. It only seats a couple of dozen at long, communal tables, but I think that once people get their food here, they’ll be in no rush to leave. It’s a complete delight, but we did have to make our way. I had promised the girlchild some Jake’s.

(Before we leave, however, a follow-up note. One of those songs that I enjoyed replaying in my head was “Wonderful World,” a track from one of David Sylvian’s countless odd projects, Nine Horses. As Tin Drum was also the title of Japan’s last studio album, I amused myself concluding that Chan must also be a Sylvian fan. This was confirmed a couple of weeks later, when I was walking down Broad Street downtown, passed one of the Tin Drum locations, and did a double-take when I saw, through the window, a giant blow-up of the front cover of that Japan LP. Chan makes terrific burgers and he appreciates one of my favorite musicians. I’d have said favorite, period, before he released that awful Manafon. Yeeesh.)

Now, not long ago, there were a few more Jake’s locations than there are now. Most magical was the great one in Decatur, at the end of the strip mall where Wuxtry has long resided. We could kick back and indulge in ice cream there for hours. It would appear that only a single Jake’s location is left, although they supply a few other coffee shops and places with their amazing product.

Inman Perk Coffee is one that Marie and I had visited once before. It’s a splendid little place where locals on laptops are always kicking back. Honestly, it’s next to impossible to make much comment on a coffee shop’s product, as I don’t drink coffee, but I figure, as long as the ice cream is good, it’s worth a visit. A relaxed and comfortable environment like this is just a bonus.

Unfortunately, Marie was deprived of this most excellent ice cream. She departed to change and feed the baby, possibly so her heart would not be broken that we were indulging in front of her. Mine was a cherry and vanilla double-scoop – their reliable “brown sugah vanillah” has been either replaced by or supplanted with a “thrillah vanillah” that I found myself enjoying even more.

Marie’s treat was a few miles up the road at OK Cafe. This venerable meat and three buffet diner has been around since the mid-eighties. Their long line of customers waiting for a table is so legendary that they installed a big digital sign out front informing anybody driving past how long the current expected wait is.

While the OK Cafe prides itself on its classic American diner food, with their chicken and fried trout particular favorites of everybody, we were just there for dessert. Marie got a big slice of chocolate cake. It was not a ridiculous, oversized chunk of a thousand calories, but something sensibly-portioned and tasty. They do fantastic work here, and getting to-go orders is incredibly simple.

This was a fine evening out. We discovered someplace new and fantastic and each of us came home satisfied. I’d call it a success all around. There remained, however, the problem of Marie decreeing the next day to be one of relaxation and late sleeping. That was fine, because I knew that we’d need to have lunch sometime, and I had a plan for that.

(Update, 3/24/12: Sadly, the Wonderful World shuttered this week to make way for another Tin Drum. Right across the street from a Doc Chey’s…? Wow.)

LaBella’s Pizzeria, Marietta GA

I don’t mean any disrespect – here, I’m in the very first sentence and I’m already channeling Jon Stewart from that pizza business in June – but, I’ll tell you good readers truly, when Marie suggested that we try to find a real New York City pizza in Marietta and came up with Baby Tommy’s Taste of New York, I had to ask, “Are you kidding me?” Don’t get me wrong; she made a great choice, and it’s a very good pizza place, one that I happily recommend that anybody in the area visit, but I just could not believe that she needed to look around for a New York pizza. You know what’s the only restaurant – seriously, the only restaurant – to have a menu on our fridge? It’s LaBella’s Pizzeria, which is over on Sandy Plains within walking distance of Sprayberry High School. It’s remarkable. It’s one of my five favorite pizza places in Atlanta. (Presently, the other four are Vingenzo’s, Varasano’s, Fritti and Fellini’s.)

Of course, such is the nature of our hobby and always trying new things that it had been a year and a half since we had a pie from LaBella’s. And I’m sure Marie had a perfectly reasonable motive in looking around for someplace new. We already know that LaBella’s is wonderful, so why not try somebody different and see what they can do? That’s fine by me, it’s just a strange equation. Looking for the best New York pizza in the region is simple. Look for the guy who used to own a pizza place on Long Island. He should know what he’s doing.

We first visited LaBella’s about three years ago with our friend Mandy, whom we don’t see enough, and I was just knocked down. The crust is just perfectly thin, the cheese isn’t too stringy, and the sauce is really tangy. It’s a tiny little place with maybe five oddly random tables and chairs all shoved together to give people just a little room to eat.

You know what makes this feel like a proper New York pizza in my fantasizing mind? They’re not afraid of anchovies. Seriously, around these parts, if they’re on the menu at all, they are hidden. Here, if you order a house special, you’re getting anchovies, as you should. Marie and my daughter both hate anchovies. Of course they do. My ideal slice of New York-styled pizza simply has anchovies and pepperoni. Even though we got out of the habit of visiting when we started the blog, there have been many times over the last year and a half when I was oddly peckish for anchovies and wondered whether we could get a pie from here.

The three of us stopped by one Friday evening at the beginning of the month – yes, the delay between a meal and a blog chapter is getting mighty long – for a nice, hot pie. The huge pizza oven takes up most of the room in the restaurant’s small space. It’s not very comfortable in the summer, but on cold nights, this is a fine place to be. We arrived just as Rick Sorrentino, who co-owns the business with his son, Stephen, was leaving, and only had a couple of words before he left. They’re terrific people here. Most of their business is take-out – come to think of it, most of the pies that I’ve had here, I’ve carried home – and it’s such fun, watching regulars come and go, greeting the staff like old friends.

There have been a couple more Sundays when I’ve phoned on my way home from work to ask whether they’ve still got any zeppoles. The answer’s usually no. They only do these little doughnuts on Sundays and they go fast. But a couple of times, I’ve brought home a paper bag full of greasy, fried deliciousness and, whatever Marie’s cooked for dinner, these make a great dessert. I need to call about zeps more often. We’re missing out.

Baby Tommy’s Taste of New York, Marietta GA

At the end of May, Fox News personality Sarah Palin took her family to New York City, where she met with NBC personality Donald Trump before the watchful eyes of sixty-eleven news photographers who wanted to watch the conservative duo chow down at a New York pizza place. Attempting to adhere to the philosophy of there being no such thing as bad publicity, and failing terribly, Trump took the opportunity to show a visiting celebrity one of his town’s legendary pie places. To folk like me, who’ve never visited Manhattan, it looked like he might have done all right. I was quickly informed, by the invaluable Jon Stewart, that Trump did it horribly, godawfully, wrong.

In what must rank as one of the funniest television moments of the year, Stewart, in a vulgarity-spewing tirade, absolutely lost his lemon with just how badly Trump represented his city. If you have not seen these brilliant ten minutes, please look it up and watch Stewart try to be respectful, and fail, as Trump’s list of crimes against pizza grows and grows. Don’t spoil the fun by reading about these crimes before you press play.

I sent that link to Marie a couple of weeks back and she quickly wrote me back, noting that it really had been a while since we enjoyed a proper New York-style pizza. Almost immediately, she had read and asked around and suggested that a little place on Cobb Parkway, south of the Big Chicken and next door to that army-navy store, might be one of the closest things we have to a real, authentic, Manhattan pizzeria experience. I’ve been driving past this place for years and not noticing it, which is not surprising when you consider all the sprawl that buries businesses on this ugly stretch of road. She was right; we were long overdue for a visit.

Doctor Who once taught me a lesson in recursive logic. I was reminded of it when I asked the fellow at the register what made this place the most authentic New York pizza place in the area. He answered, “All our customers tell us we are.”

I think that I got a little bit more information from the owner a little later on. Apparently, what you want to see in a New York pizza place is a big counter with pies being sold by the slice. The smell needs to hit you as you walk in the door. You want an even spread of cheese and sauce, a certain curl to the crust, and a conservative but noticeable char on the underside.

Marie and I shared a Primavera-style pizza (mushrooms, tomatoes, peppers, black olives and onions) and I also had a knish, served with two packets of Gulden’s brand mustard. I thought it was pretty good, although I wasn’t mad about the cheese on the pizza.

I particularly liked the really generous pile of toppings that we were given, but Marie found it a little overpowering. Since by now you have all watched that clip from Jon Stewart’s show, I’m not spoiling anything by saying that my eyebrows raised as Marie got up and fetched a knife and fork to tackle her slice. Having been instructed by Varasano’s some years ago how to correctly hold and eat a slice, I wasn’t surprised when Stewart really blew his top about Trump eating pizza in New York with a fork, and told Marie, with a smile and a tut-tut, that Stewart would surely not approve of how she was eating.

“There are too many toppings on the pizza,” said Marie, “and Jon Stewart can bite me.”

Personally, I thought that a bit harsh. We wouldn’t have even been enjoying this particular pizza without him!

Transmetropolitan, Athens GA

On our most recent trip to Athens, Marie and I split up the eating duties so that we could visit several restaurants and have small meals at each. It’s easier, she put it, on the budget and on the buttons. She enjoyed a very nice lunch at Last Resort while I sipped water and had a couple of nibbles, and then we went up Clayton to Bizarro Wuxtry to visit and pick up a few comics. After a short time, we needed to think about going back to Atlanta and retrieving the children, so we went over to Transmetropolitan for a snack. Of course, a snack at Transmetropolitan is twice the meal at any other place. These slices are huge! Continue reading “Transmetropolitan, Athens GA” →

Zucca, Smyrna GA

Every year, our friend Neal turns his birthday into a week-long celebration called The Festival of Neal. We asked him, a couple of weeks in advance, before he got completely booked, whether we could schedule some time to take him to supper somewhere. He selected a place near him in Smyrna called Zucca. This was one of those places that I’d been figuring that I’d get around to for many, many years.

Zucca opened its first of four Atlanta locations in 2003. There’s the one in Smyrna, which we visited, one near us in Kennesaw, one a little further up the road in Woodstock on Towne Lake Parkway, and one in Decatur. I’m of the opinion that Atlanta is completely packed with amazing pizza restaurants. Does Zucca have a chance at breaking into my personal top five of Vingenzo’s, Varasano’s, Fritti, Everybody’s and Labella’s?

Marie wasn’t able to join us Wednesday night. She needed more sleep than I do back before the pregnancy, and even more today. This past week has been lousy with allergies and pollen and it’s hit me worse than any spring of the past six years and I’ve been an absolute nightmare to sleep with, since I can barely breathe. A couple of nights previously, I banished myself to the couch for fear of waking her with nose-clogged snoring. I proceeded to wake everybody in the house, even the boy who sleeps in the basement. I mention this because the plan was for me to pick up the children and drive down to Smyrna and meet Marie at the restaurant, and instead we nearly collided at the foot of the driveway. She came home, completely exhausted and spent and full of stress and frustration and asked me to deliver apologies, but she needed to sleep. And did she ever. It was fitful and interrupted, but she got to lay down for about twelve hours, and she deserved every second of it.

Like a complete lout, the pizza slices that I brought home were covered in bacon, which she doesn’t like. Well, that’s another one in the failure column for me!

Well, the children and I stopped in to visit my mother for a few minutes, and got to the restaurant just before seven. It’s a family-friendly sports bar, with a big sign in the airlock advertising franchise opportunities. At various points during the week they have trivia and games, and on the weekends, they have loud music and DJs who evidently can’t spell their own names. Or maybe she’s called Sue Spence. Who knows? It was, unusually, a time to discuss spelling and pronounciation. Like many middle schoolers, my daughter is incapable of speaking for more than four minutes without announcing that something has been “pwned.” This is evidently pronounced “powned” in twelve year-old-ese. Our friend Todd was able to join us, and he saw the reunited British band OMD earlier in the week at The Loft. In twelve year-old-ese, that’s pronounced “owmed.”

I started with a bowl of minestrone to sooth my allergy-ravaged throat, and it was excellent. I might have saved a penny or two by ordering just a small pizza and a second bowl of that wonderful soup. The pizza that the kids and I got was my son’s choice. He wanted to try the Buffalo pizza, which skips tomato sauce in favor of blue cheese and ranch, topped with chicken, bacon and tomatoes with wing sauce and blue cheese crumbles. It was very good and there was a heck of a lot of it. A large pie here will easily feed three.

The birthday boy ordered Zucca’s Victory pie, which, they boast, earned them the 2008 prize in an International Expo of some renown. It’s a ramped up Margherita – mozzerella, basil, olive oil and parmesan – adding sausage and mushrooms. Neal substituted onions for the mushrooms. Todd also ordered a large pie – more than enough to take several slices back home to Samantha, who also could not join us – with sausage and peppers. I had a slice of this and thought it was pretty good, but certainly elevated by the quality of the sausage, which was just excellent. Sometimes, better ingredients make an enormous, palpable difference.

David was also able to meet us after bowing out of work a little early. Pizza’s not really part of his diet, but he did enjoy a bowl of the terrific minestrone, and a large Greek salad. Well, to the naked eye it was a Greek salad; according to the menu it was a Tuscany salad. I’m really not certain what the difference would be!

Overall, it was a good meal. They do good work here, and the service was fantastic. The pies are probably not as good as Antico, but the service was leagues better than what you find there, so I’d put the two on about equal footing as far as the overall experience. Just like Antico wasn’t qute able to knock its way into my personal top five, nor was this place. Not at all bad, but not quite transcendent, either.

My Cousin Vinny’s, Kennesaw GA (CLOSED)

This is Marie, contributing an uncharacteristically dessert-free chapter. One of the local places we don’t visit often enough because of our roaming tendencies is a pleasant little pizza joint with a brick oven. I usually forget the actual name of the place, in fact, but luckily Grant knows that when I suggest eating at the Brick Oven pizza place I mean this restaurant. However, given our tendency towards variety combined with the tendency of that area to have an infestation of mall traffic, we don’t eat there very often. That is a shame, because besides good regular food, every so often they have fried green beans as a special and I am rather fond of those. Actually, the last time we’d tried to go we had to pass because there was a line out the door and we were too hungry to wait that long for dinner.

There are a lot of pizza joints in the area, and that’s one of the reasons we tend to change out. There’s another Italian place I’m particularly fond of, in fact, but we go even less often because of budgetary constraints. They happen not to have fried green beans, but that’s irrelevant.

On this particular occasion we had a good excuse to go to a familiar place. My aunt Lori and her husband let us know that they would be coming down through Atlanta on their way to Florida and wanted to visit over dinner, and that was the first thing that came to mind that would be easy for an out-of-town guest driving down I-75 to find. Their visit was scheduled for a Thursday (traditionally my most stressful and longest day at work) so having something to look forward to for the evening was definitely a positive addition to my day. As good hosts, though, it was important to give them a place that would be easy to find and which I could get to independently if (as it almost turned out) I would need to drive there on my own because of the effects of Thursdays on my schedule. Then, as a surprise, after dinner we got to open a late wedding gift. I am always partial to late gifts as it is a good excuse to keep the original celebration going.

One of the peculiar aspects to this particular visit is that for the first time I visited the online reviews of the place. We’d just stopped by the first time and liked it, so we hadn’t ever checked what the internet was saying about the place. Now, when I looked at the web in order to send directions and maybe send a copy of the menu for them to look at, I saw a clutter of negative reviews scattered around several lists (in between quite a few much more positive ones). The puzzling thing about them is that these particular reviews didn’t seem to be about the same place we’d visited. All our experiences have been at the least tasty and at the best very good.

This particular evening went quite well. Most of the other business for the place that night was people stopping by for take-out so we had the dining room nearly to ourselves. I hope it’s not because of the reviews, but the server did say that they do a lot of their business on the weekend. The last time we’d tried to go we had to pass because there was a line out the door and we were too hungry to wait that long for dinner!

The food there is not overly complicated, just tasty. Sadly, the fried green beans were not available that day. Our order started with a huge plate of rolls covered in melted garlic butter, hot and rather addictive themselves. My uncle commented that he could eat just those for dinner and that got us another plateful so he almost did! Generally, if I can have only one topping on a pizza I’ll go for sausage but that’s not an option these days. After the baby I am going to have a salami sandwich followed by a sausage pizza, then when I get home I’ll probably make one of my family’s Dutch recipes that involve more sausage, even though that’s winter food down here in Georgia!

We had ordered two pizzas to share except for our daughter, who had to be different and get ravioli. She got a salad out of the deal, and although not a fan of green stuff ate most of it, only passing on the onions. Grant and I chose a pizza that was new to us for the evening, the chicken pesto with spinach and tomatoes. It’s a really good combination that I would definitely take again. So all in all, I would have to say that if they ever deserved those poor reviews they’ve definitely outgrown that phase.

After dinner we got to open a late wedding gift. I am always partial to late gifts as it is a good excuse to keep the original celebration going.

(Update 7/11/12: Sadly, we have learned that My Cousin Vinny’s shuttered in late June. We were speaking to Malika of Atlanta Restaurant Blog last night, and she remembered that when this place was on US-41 some years ago, it was always packed. We only ever saw it busy just one time after we discovered it in its Busbee Parkway home, and thought of it as just a quiet getaway. That, of course, probably isn’t what restaurants need to keep the lights on. Our best wishes to the owners and staff.)