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.

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.

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.

the scattered, covered, and smothered experience

I used to joke that in order to get a job at the Waffle House you had to be an ex-con. And if you looked close enough, you could actually see the leg chain that shackled the line cook to the base of the grill. Obviously that’s not true, but if you’ve gone into the ‘wrong’ Waffle House after a late night at the club, you know it ain’t completely false, either.

Still, there’s something about the place that keeps me going back every once in a while. Maybe it’s because they’re as common in Georgia as kudzu or springtime pollen. Perhaps it’s the fact that – good or bad– EVERY trip to the waffle house is an experience (Seriously, have you ever been to a Waffle House and left without an interesting story to tell?). Or it could be that it’s the perfect place to go when I’m missing mama and grandma and want somebody to call me ‘baby’ and ‘sugah’ while they serve me food that I KNOW isn’t good for me but tastes soooo right.

It’s a Saturday and I’ve foregone my usual laziness, instead opting to go out and run some early morning errands. Feeling proud that I’m up, dressed, and finished with most of my to-dos before noon, I decide to reward myself with a little breakfast. Cresting a hill, I spy that familiar sign – two simple words spelled out in garish yellow squares – and I feel an instant twinge of nostalgia. As soon as I ask myself, “Should I…?” my stomach responds with an approving grumble, and my hands comply by turning the steering wheel towards the parking lot.

I’m greeted at the door by one of the waitresses whose name I’m certain is either Flo or Gladys or Shirley or something very similar. I choose an empty seat at the counter and she hands me a menu. I’m instantly absorbed in the familiar quick-order cacophony of jangling silverware and clanking dishes, sizzling food on grill, punctuated by the shrill voices of waitresses hollering out orders in a drawling language only spoken here:

“Pull! One chicken plate! Drop 2 hashbrowns! 1 scattered, covered, and diiiced, 1 scattered, covered, smothered, and chunked!”

Welcome to the House.

Flip – fresh, hot, small, hip

The concept of Flip is fairly simple – burgers, sides, and shakes – American classics that everyone can identify with. But when the creative consultant behind the concept is local celebrity chef, Richard Blais, you can expect the simple classics to have some very modern updates.

Located on Howell Mill just past Chattahoochee Avenue, Flip Burger Boutique looks and feels like a retro burger joint with Sex and the City flair. From the outside of the building, large windows reveal a dimly lit dining space with patrons swathed in flattering candlelight. The interior aesthetic could be best described as a post-modern Johnny Rocket’s. Stark white predominates, highlighted by flashes of red and chrome. A bar flanks almost the entire length of the room, opposite a few cushy benches set into intimate alcoves. In the center of the space, two rows of adjoining high-top tables create a communal feel, which is ideal, since you’ll invariably be tempted to peek over to see which of Flip’s many gourmet burgers your neighbor settled on. At the rear of the restaurant is the open-air kitchen where you can observe two chefs feverishly churning out the goods.

my thanksgiving staycation – part 2

Vita – Italian for ‘Oh my god, this is the best food ever!’
After the photo show, my friends and I adjourned to Vita for dinner. Located in the building that formerly housed Mick’s of lower Buckhead / upper Midtown, Vita is the latest venture of Tony LaRocco, the restauranteur who also owned Fratelli di Napoli. My friend that was master of ceremonies for the evening is a personal friend of Tony’s, so I knew we were all in for an unexpected treat.

Umezono – a taste of japan in cobb

Despite the never-ending craze for all things Japanese, there are surprisingly very few authentic and affordable Japanese restaurants in the metro-Atlanta area. One very pleasant exception is Umezono.

My first visit to Umezono was at the recommendation of a former co-worker – an older American fellow who was married to a native Japanese woman. This guy, though generally likeable, was certainly no charmer. He was the salty dog type that responded to most people with short, harsh grunts. I managed to build something of a rapport with him when I let on that I knew a little Japanese. This of course led to us talking about Japanese restaurants, and ended up with him agreeing to take me and another colleague to his favorite Japanese eatery for lunch one day. On the day of the outing, I noticed that his eyes had taken on a youngish look, and he’d suddenly become quite garrulous – explaining the proper way to drink ocha and sharing all kinds of tidbits about the different dishes he’d tried. If ‘Old Guns’ (our endearing nickname for him) was this excited about something, I knew I was in for a treat.