FUSCO'S VIA ROMA

By Shaina Mangino
Fusco's via Roma
Find Me

We would eventually get to the cannolis—the true quality test of an Italian restaurant.
Growing up in a Jewish-Italian home I am accustomed to food rich in taste and history. And being the food snobs we are, my family and I always have trouble finding the perfect Italian cuisine. But, somehow the humble trattoria on Historic Main Street in the small town of Acworth, Georgia does the trick.

With rustic beams and brick, Fusco’s via Roma rivals any authentic trattoria in Italy. Candlelight, small tables and Tuscan artwork add to the restaurant’s true mom and pop feel. Family portraits and autographed photos from celebrities line the walls leading to the kitchen. The warm, welcoming environment carries through the entire restaurant—a place designed with fun and family in mind. There is even a framed portrait of The Godfather cast in the bathroom.

The trio of my mom, sis and me dare to order their cold antipasto platter. We’ve been disappointed at other establishments and at $9.95 per person this better be good. Would it have the sliced meats and cheeses with marinated vegetables we were so accustomed to or would it be the odd mixed salad we’ve had at other restaurants? Prosciutto, Capicola ham and Genoa salami; mozzarella and provolone cheeses glisten on the plate. Olives, roasted peppers and artichokes round out the sampler. Finally, a proper antipasto platter.

Next comes the ciabatta bread. Crispy and crunchy on the outside, soft and chewy on the inside. Hot and fresh with an elastic nature when breaking it apart. The fruity olive oil, pepper and salty parmigiano reggiano dip delicately complement the rustic bread.

The insalata misto (house salad) is simple and fresh with bitter mixed greens; juicy, vine ripe tomatoes; and crumbly, aromatic parmesan. My sister’s Caesar salad has just the right ingredients: romaine lettuce, garlicy croutons made from day old bread, and shaved parmesan; the perfectly made dressing including anchovies and lemon doesn’t overpower the simple ingredients but could be used a bit more sparingly.

Oh what to have for dinner? The large, diverse menu makes it difficult to choose. Farfalle with prosciutto wrapped scallops in a vodka cream sauce sounds scrumptious; so does the traditional lasagna and the duck breast with a honey glaze served over risotto cooked with Barolo wine.

Ultimately the pizza special with goat cheese, Genoa salami, Kalamata olives and basil wins out. The traditional, thin crust is perfectly cooked and there is a nice contrast between the velvety goat cheese and crispy salami. Fresh, lemony basil perks up the dish while the tang from the salty olives adds tiny bursts of flavor. A slight change in preparation of the salami would have put this pizza over the top. Instead of bite-size pieces, sliced salami would allow for a stronger, spicier flavor.

My mom orders a perfectly tender parmesan crusted pork tenderloin that has the right amount of crunch when I bite into it, and the warm, roasted potatoes are appropriately seasoned. My sister sticks with her usual pasta dish—Penne Rivazza, which is penne pasta tossed in a vodka cream sauce with prosciutto, onions and peas.

About 15 or so minutes after we order, my dad walks in to join us for dinner. It is a nice surprise but we will obviously receive our food before he even orders. Head chef David Fusco is extremely accommodating and puts in a rush order for his Fettuccini Quattro Fromaggi.

Fusco’s al dente pasta is soft with a slight bite in the middle—as it should be. Both the vodka and four cheese cream sauces are silky. While many Italian eateries douse their pasta in a heavy sauce, Fusco’s sauce showcases the pasta, gently wrapping around each piece like a warm jacket.

Two words: chocolate soufflé. Rich, smooth and possibly the best chocolate creation ever invented. Each warm bite melts in my mouth. And the cold vanilla gelato with the hot cake is the most delectable duo. It’s the grown-up version of licking the brownie batter bowl as a kid.

Now the cannolis. Crunchy, flakey, tube-shaped pastry dough: check. Creamy, ricotta cheese with chocolate chips: check, check. Ok, the chocolate chips aren’t traditional but they’re a nice touch for a chocoholic like me. “That’s a good cannoli,” my Italian dad said. “I haven’t had a cannoli as good as this in years.” The owner said they get all their desserts imported from Italy; they even ship in dough and other ingredients from New York.

Fusco’s extensive menu also offers wine pairings, and the restaurant has a full bar with almost any wine, beer or cocktail anyone could imagine.

With comfort foods and warm people, Fusco’s is a small gem in the heart of Acworth. But authenticity comes with a price. Pasta dishes range from $10.25 to $19.95 while meat and fish dishes range anywhere from $15 to $30. The lunch menu, including a variety of panninis, subs and pastas, is slightly cheaper with selections ranging from $7.25 to $17.95.

Fusco’s fresh ingredients are reminiscent of the traditional, Italian Sunday dinner I had as a kid. The restaurant successfully combines fine dining with comfortable surroundings. They embrace their motto: A travola non si invecchia mai (You never age at the dinner table). At Fusco’s, you feel like one of the family.

CHICK-FIL-A

By Emily Yocco

Find Me

I don’t eat fast food – but I do eat Chick-Fil-A. This place is more than a chicken sandwich – it’s a tradition embedded in my family lineage: Grandpa has always used individual Chick-Fil-A mayonnaise packets for his homemade potato salad, my brother Stan refused to have his 13th birthday party anywhere besides Chick-Fil-A, and then there was that time I won free Chick-Fil-A chicken sandwiches for an entire year. Call me bold, but I’d venture to say that this quick-service establishment – nay, restaurant – has never let my family or me down.

It started with a milkshake – my most recent visit, that is. The discovery that Chick-Fil-A would be offering a new flavor of their decadent handspun milkshakes – Coffee Caramel – from March 31 until Aug. 2 cracked my cookie-crumbling willpower. Talk about once-in-a-lifetime opportunities. But when a delicately fried aroma touched my nostrils as I pulled into the Beechwood parking lot, I knew the chicken had to come first.

Luckily for my health-conscious dining companions, Chick-Fil-A offers numerous grilled chicken entrees and salads. However, those looking to justify a more crispy meal will be pleased to know that Chick-Fil-A is french-fry friendly; all products are deep-fried in 100% peanut oil, which has no trans fat, no cholesterol and is low in saturated fat.

Using high-quality oil is just one way in which the Chick-Fil-A brand outshines its competitors. Have you ever seen fresh white carnations atop the tables inside McDonald’s? The Beechwood Chick-Fil-A keeps fresh flowers not only on its tables, but also in its bathrooms – now that is classy fast food. Here, the manager takes your order, calls you “honey,” and generously doles out enough sauces to fill your refrigerator. (Go for Polynesian – it’s sweet yet savory and perfectly gooey).

But above all stands the chicken, founder Truett Cathy’s secret to a $2.2 billion poultry empire. My order of Chick-n-Strips, with their irregularly shaped golden brown bodies, was just hot enough that I had to peel back the pearly layers and wait for the steam to escape from inside. It was obvious that Mr. Cathy’s commitment to using only white chicken breast meat is still intact in 2008. The crunchy, textural interest twisted with a moist, melt-in-your-mouth finish had my taste buds leaping with joy.

While perfection has been attained as far as fried selections go, I still consider Chick-Fil-A’s grilled choices works in progress. The takeout-style black box that holds the Chargrilled Chicken Sandwich looks like a cheap afterthought compared to the famous foil-lined bag where the queen bee – the Original Chicken Sandwich – rests. This particular chargrilled selection was more garlicky than grilled; it was like taking a sip of Diet Coke thinking it’s the real thing. It’s not horrible, but why not go for the good stuff?

This is not to condemn Chick-Fil-A’s other attempts at diversifying its menu. In fact, the chicken noodle soup could make Campbell’s declare bankruptcy – chicken chunks the size of dice, super-sized portions of noodles and an opaque broth made it unabashedly slurp-worthy. The fruit cup was the Lamborghini of all mixes: None of that cantaloupe-honeydew-pineapple stuff that clogs the engine – this smooth ride was only Grade A strawberries, mandarin oranges and apples.

Finally, it was time for the delicious beast that caused the visit – the 20-oz. handspun milkshake. For better or for worse (for your diet), Chick-Fil-A milkshakes only come in one size, which conveniently feeds a family of eight. Obviously, it was necessary to order two shakes – and a brownie. These cups were practically spilling over with whipped cream and so thick that a spoon might have been a better navigational tool than a straw. An unassuming walnut-topped brownie introduced our palettes to dessert with a jolt of the taste buds. The Post It-sized dream was packed more densely than dirt – it was half-brownie, half-fudge, and a full five stars.

And the milkshakes – these calorie-laden delicacies have tempted passers-by since their inception in May 2006. The limited time edition Coffee Caramel flavor made my jaws pucker at first with a light, bitter touch of coffee, but then the immediate sweetness of the caramel coated my mouth. The Cookies ‘n Cream, a more traditional Chick-Fil-A shake, was so heavy with Oreo chunks that my straw was useless. It was tortuous to wait for the dirty snow-colored dessert to melt – but worth it when that fusion of crunchy and creamy finally exploded in my mouth.

If the label “fast food eater” unnerves you, I dare you to try Chick-Fil-A. Even its most unhealthy dishes won’t leave you feeling morbidly obese or greasy. After all, I would know – I’m the girl that ate free Chick-Fil-A sandwiches for a year straight.

Allison's Manifesto

Everyone has an opinion. Don't deny it, you know how you feel about the spaghetti specialty your boyfriend made for your dinner date, your roommate's green Patton leather high heals, your professor's attendance policy.

In fact, you might have just read my perfect Athens meal and decided you despise cheese dip from La Parilla (impossible) or agreed that the white chocolate cheesecake from Cecilia’s is the best (like Amanda Mull did). If you did, you're halfway to taking over a critic's position.

Forming a clear and personal opinion on something is the first role of the critic. An effective critic must be able to communicate what they liked or didn’t like and why, in order to inform the reader. The critic should present the material in a way that gives the reader evidence to believe the review.

It is important that a critic go beyond their dislike for nit picky elements like caper sauce atop salmon or a cliche teen horror movie plot and comments on the entire picture. The critic needs to do some reporting, just like any other journalist. It is the critic’s responsibility to keep every aspect of their critique in mind.

Mandy's Manifesto

A review is more than a critical look at something. It is also more than just a point of view. A review poses questions, gives an analysis and provides insight, among other things. Although everyone has an opinion, a critic must hone their skills and enlighten the reader with observations they may not have noticed.
The role of the critic is to engage the reader and create the feeling that they have experienced the events written in the review, even before they have. Each reviewer brings their own expertise to a review and is shaped by the past, present and future. In relaying the life experiences that the critic has had, it helps to give the reader an idea of what angle the critic is taking.
Critics are an important part of journalism. They are able to take movies, television, the arts, etc. and make a new artwork all their own. Critics may all have differing views, but they all share on thing: A love for conveying their ideas, backed up by facts, to a listening audience that is hungry for more than they are given.

Katie W's Manifesto

Everyone has a right to their own likes and dislikes. We go through each day making judgment calls without even realizing it. What would I like for lunch? Where is the best place for me to study? What music suits me while I hang out with my friends? We make decisions based on past experiences and the feelings and memories that came from those experiences.

But what makes someone a good and accurate critic on these experiences? Who is to say that they know what they are talking about and should be trusted (better yet, paid to do it)? There are the two words that come to mind: objectivity and thoroughness.

A critic must note everything and anything that was experienced. The review is completely the critic’s opinion, and as a reader, we don’t have to believe or follow it. But, the critic needs to give full support, vivid detail and be open-minded in order for readers to understand the experience - be it food, theatre or books.

The best critics are not the ones who have the ruthless reputations or the heartless reviews, but it’s the critics who know how to be unbiased and complete so that their readers can gain a little insight into a certain experience.

I think that the role of the critic is increasing people’s awareness of what is out there, and I think the critic will continue to have an important and influential role in the decisions that people make. As long as there are creations and observations to be made, there will be a critic around to express his or her opinion to everyone else!

Katie Mc's Manifesto

These days the role of the critic is a bit unclear. What’s their purpose? Where is their place in the future? What gives them their authority?

Critics can come in many forms and fashions. They have the right to state their opinions in whatever form they wish just as the critics of the critics have the right to raise such questions.

A critic’s purpose is not to tell you what to think, how to think or reprimand you for disagreeing. They are simply sharing their own educated (we hope) opinion and perhaps providing a little incite into something readers may be interested in.

Obviously, their role has shifted slightly in recent years making their place in this world a bit shaky. Fear not. A critic has never been one to back down easily. I imagine they will eventually steady their balance in their newfound societal role and continue to praise and/or degrade those who create.

This change seems to be a shift from one-way communication to a more technologically advanced open-forum of sorts. I imagine this will be good for the critics and, really, everyone involved. Hopefully this will encourage people to realize that a critic is just an everyday person with witty writing skills and a strong opinion (again, we hope…).

I have realized recently that everyone is a critic. There are just some that get paid to review, and we have come to accept their opinions as more concrete.

The world is changing and we, therefore, must all evolve. Stubborn tendencies and all, critics must do so, as well. If critics had a manifesto, I feel it would channel Gloria Gaynor: “You think I’d crumble. You think I’d lay down and die. Oh no, Not I. I will survive…”

Long live the critic.

Enlightened Diners

KATIE WOL:
Hey! Thanks for stopping by our ATHENS FOOD BLOG! I hope that we could help give some insight into the cheaper world of Athens food! I am currently a senior at the University of Georgia, but I will be graduating this MAY! I am originally from Houston, Texas, and I am moving out West to Jackson Hole right after graduation. I really cannot wait to experience something so new and different. I am not sure where I will go after, but as long as I am happy and doing something that I enjoy - I know it will be great! My favorite Athens food places, that you HAVE to try, are: Lumpkin Cafe, Last Resort, The Globe, Transmetropolitan and Weaver D's!



MANDY:
Hi, I'm Mandy. I love food and am so glad to be a part of this blog!!! I am originally from Chicago, but now am proud to call Atlanta my home. I enjoy reading, running and great food. I live in the south but am definitely not a fan of southern food. I prefer Italian any day. My life has just begun and I am excited to see where the wind takes me after graduation! Wherever it is, hopefully it is somewhere with some fantastic and interesting dining options!!




KATIE MCW:
Hi there, and welcome to our blog! I am so pleased to be writing about such a joyful part of life: FOOD! I am a senior magazine journalism major at The University of Georgia in Athens, GA. I plan to move back to my hometown of Birmingham, AL in May. After I travel around the world (literally), I hope to find a job in magazines, event planning or marketing. My favorite Athens food finds are the following: Zim's Bagel Bakery, Speakeasy, Shokotini, Last Resort, Five & Ten and any Jittery Joe's location. Yum!



ALLISON:
Hey you! Thanks for viewing our blog about Athens Food! My name is Allison Tonini and I am currently a senior newspaper journalism major at the University of Georgia. I am graduating cum laude in May 2008 and embarking on a trip to New Zealand with Roadtrip Nation in June 2008. I have a lot of goals, but my main priority in life is to pursue a passion and be happy. I'm rarely serious about anything, but food to me is no laughing matter. I dont have a lot of cash, so I never waste it on anything but the best of the best in Athens. Some of my fav food finds are Weaver D's, Clocked!, Blind Pig Tavern, The Last Resort Grill and Transmetropolitan.

BISCHERO

By Allison Tonini
Bischero
Find Me

“Buona sera,” I greeted the hostess at Bischero Specialita Italiane restaurant. She was puzzled but kept a smile. “It means good evening in Italian,” I cleared up as she walked us to our unblemished white-clothed table. Small votives in the middle of each table flickered in the amorous setting, like stars in a midnight blue sky. A few colorful paintings dressed the casual brick walls, mirroring the dining ambience with the warm and visible brick pizza oven. We sat at a small private corner table. The hostess must have recognized the legendary Italian family name, Tonini. “Looks like a nice place,” my mom said. What she really meant was, “I hope Frankie wasn’t the hostess’s brudda;” we’d iced the kid a week ago for snitching. Godfather’s orders.

The wine list looked phenomenal. There were over 75 wines imported from every region of Italy, including Montepulciano, Venice, and Tuscany. In addition to the star lineup of traditional red and white wines, Bischero also offered frizzanti and dessert wines, imported beers and liquor. We went with a bottle of the Chardonnay Del Friuli, the server’s recommendation.

The thickly sliced complimentary bread was served in wicker baskets, accompanied with small dishes and a cruet of olive oil. Flour dirtied the soft crust of the fresh, fragrant rosemary bread, which was completely different from the traditional chewy bread that I remember from the summer I spent in Tuscany. Traditional Italian bread has a very rubbery crust and is made salt-free to balance out the tastes of the meal’s dishes. Although it was upsetting in our quest for authenticity, it wasn’t enough to clip the waitress for.

Next came the insalate, which the menu promised would be classic and fresh. The Insalata Cesare, a traditional Caesar salad, was light and hinted bold flavors. The saltiness of the anchovy and nuttiness of the Parmigiano reggiano were the only aspects that made Bischero’s Caesar salad better than a chain restaurant’s. The Caprese, buffalo mozzarella, tomatoes, and basil with extra virgin olive oil and black pepper, was nothing compared to the old country. Basil greatly overpowered the dish, making the contents on the plate look more like a conventional green salad than a Caprese. The menu did not specify that balsamic vinaigrette would be glazed on the insalate. Disappointingly, the chef drowned the dish in the sticky substance, dying brown the only two small pieces of mozzarella that I was given. After a few sour faced bites, it was inedible.

Even though the pasta dishes were outrageously expensive, $16-$19, I ordered the Tortelli Alle Mele e Salsiccia, tortelli filled with sausage, apple and ricotta cheese then completed with a sage brown butter sauce. What can I say; it was an offer I couldn’t refuse. Our server reassured me explaining that the pasta is handcrafted in la cucina every morning. I was excited, thinking back to the mouth watering pear ravioli that had won my heart at La Giostra, a small trattoria in Florence.

Our server brought the Godfather’s dinner first, a heaping plate of the Mafalde Alla Napoletana, a homemade mafalde with tomato, ricotta, basil and handmade meatballs. The deconstructed lasagna dish was not impressive in presentation or taste. I was looking for a stand out element, but everything remained ordinary. Every so-so Italian restaurant in the phone book can serve that same sauce, meatballs, and top it off with ricotta and basil. The only difference is that most don’t charge 19 cannolis for it. Next came my mom’s piping hot Vegetariana Pizza Nepolitana. Tomato, mozzarella, eggplant, mushrooms, spinach and roasted peppers covered the flour dusted crust, which was substantially thicker than authentic Italian brick oven pizzas. My eyes ate the pie first, the dangerously bubbling cheese, the rolled crust hanging off one end of the plate, the generously cut vegetables lying on top. After a few minutes of torture, longing for the taste I remembered, I took a bite. It reminded me more of California Pizza Kitchen then Italy. It tasted good, but nothing to write Great Grandma Leone in Sicily about.

As mom and the Godfather were digging in, at my insistence, the server approached with some horrible news. They had run out of tortelli. Before I could comment, she insisted the Lasagne could be made pretty quickly. I was ravenous so I agreed. Halfway through my parents’ meals, the lasagna came out. The server failed to mention that this lasagna was vegetarian. She also failed to mention that it was the worst tasting dish on the menu. Crisp, barely cooked vegetables sat between two not-quite-al dente index card sized noodles, topped with an Alfredo sauce that was running all over the plate. There was no binding, no evidence that this was a piece cut from a pan of traditional lasagna. I looked at my parents, who were also very disappointed with this version of lasagna. Lasagna in the Tonini family is a tradition that started in a small town in southern Italy. The dish takes two days, and is assembled with several layers of noodles, Bolognese sauce, and mozzarella cheese. This wasn’t lasagna. For the second time in my life, I sent the dish back. When the server apologetically asked if I wanted anything else, I refused. A sandwich from Quiznos next door sounded more appetizing.

I have dined here before and thoroughly enjoyed my meal, but this time was different. It is important to note that the restaurant, originally founded by Stefano Volpi and Salvatore Bianco, has suffered greatly under its new owners, Anthony and Thomas Encrapera. The two cousins took over the restaurant in late January 2008, and plan to slowly evolve the menu with more French, Spanish and Mediterranean influence. Although the restaurant still bears the name and association with Bischero, the duo is in the process of renaming the place 237 Prince Ave.

This meal didn’t please the family. The Godfather said he prefers Bertoli’s frozen pasta to Bischero’s stab at neo-Italian any day. This threat is directed to you, 237 Prince Ave: Don’t mess wit my dinner again, or you’ll be swimmin’ wit da fishes.

THE GRIT

By Linda Dimond
The Grit
Find Me

In a city where the streets are lined with trendy restaurants that offer a slew of different foods, what keeps people talking about the vegetarian spot The Grit? It seems that this is everyone’s favorite place to eat, vegetarian or not. I had to partake in the Athens tradition and visit this hotspot for a taste of their famous weekend brunch.

Formica tabletops, booths upholstered in shiny red vinyl and black ceramic tiled floors. Remind you of Richie and Potsie’s favorite hang out in “Happy Days?” This is the charm of the vintage-inspired restaurant. The Grit makes its home in a historic building, owned by R.E.M.’s Michael Stipe, on Prince Ave. You might see the mismatched chairs and chipping paint as a lack of an interior decorating budget. Whether you perceive it as cool vintage or just plain shabby, you’ll agree that The Grit serves food so yummy, you’ll forget that there’s no meat.

With the motto, “vegetarian food for carnivores,” The Grit’s menu boasts hearty and delicious meals, sans meat, that anyone can enjoy. There are vegan-friendly dishes as well. The “Texas Toast-wich,” which I found scrawled on a chalkboard as a special, was filling for a breakfast sandwich. The two huge slabs of homemade sourdough bread were toasted and buttered to a golden perfection. A perfectly cooked egg sat between the bread slices with melted smoked Gouda cheese clinging to its side. It was perfect. Just enough cheese to give it that smoky punch of flavor, but not so much that it ran out of the sandwich.

Did I mention it was perfect? It was the most beautiful sandwich I’ve ever eaten, the Ferrari of grill cheeses.

Though the “Texas Toast-wich” stole the show for me, the other dishes were not unremarkable. The side of roasted potatoes had a savory garlic seasoning that gave the potatoes a robust flavor but wasn’t overpowering as garlic tends to be. The biscuits were dense but were still fluffy, not doughy, inside. They came accompanied by yeast gravy which had a salty soy sauce taste to it. The gravy was light, complementing the dense biscuits well.

As a vegetarian eatery, of course the Grit offers tofu as a meat alternative. The tofu and veggies platter was a stir fry of cubed tofu, zucchini, squash, onions, green peppers and mushrooms in yeast and soy sauce. The sauce was similar to the yeast gravy but much more flavorful. The tofu cubes were cooked just right, so they had a golden crust but were soft inside.
The cooking skills are truly outstanding and something to be appreciated. Obviously, each dish was cooked with expertise. Nothing was over or undercooked. The seasonings complemented the food wonderfully. Even the lemonade was delicious and not too sweet as restaurants like to serve it.

The waiting staff was busy, making service a little slow at times. However, they were polite and helpful when they made it to our table, and oh, the food was so worth it! Brunch was affordable, with each meal ranging from $5-10. If you decide you love The Grit’s food, you’ll be happy that over 130 of their recipes are available in “The Grit Restaurant Cookbook.”

Another reason The Grit is so popular is its connections with the music scene. Located near many of the downtown concert venues, it’s a favorite pit-stop for many touring artists and local musicians, such as R.E.M., the B-52s, Widespread Panic and the Counting Crows. Tragically, owner Ted Hafer fell to his death in a likely suicide this past November. Despite this misfortune, The Grit still manages to continue providing the community with friendly service and wonderful meals.

So why are people still raving about The Grit, 22 years after its opening? Because they have reason to – it’s a delicious, healthy and affordable part of the downtown Athens culture.

DOC CHEY'S

By Adam Lipper
Doc Chey's
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Peace. Love. Hit-or-miss noodles. That should be Doc Chey’s new slogan.

The award-winning noodle house chain opened in Atlanta in 1997 and in 2004 expanded to Athens, Ga., as well as two other states. It plans to grow to 20 locations over the next two years, and eventually to 300 units.

Over the weekend, I ate at the downtown Athens’ branch on two separate occasions. I did this for two reasons. The first was to gain a greater understanding of Doc Chey’s pan-Asian cuisine. Yet, the truer answer – cover your eyes Doc Chey’s fanatics - was because the first meal was so terrible, so devoid of any flavor, so inept at any similarity to a decent meal that I felt compelled to return. I couldn’t bear to think that this restaurant, just three short years ago, had been a personal favorite of mine.

The atmosphere is truly a treat. With 25-foot high ceilings, large windows to view the hustle and bustle of college students, and red industrial pipes, which give the restaurant a modern feel, you enjoy, or don’t enjoy, your meal in style.

I began with the Fresh Vietnamese Basil Rolls. They’re filled with vermicelli, a thin rice noodle that gives the rolls a spongy texture, and rounded out with shrimp, lettuce, basil and carrots. The rolls are served with hoison sauce for dipping. While they satisfied my taste buds, I was disappointed at their size. Once upon a time in a land far away, I remember them being plentiful and filling. Now they looked anorexic.

Yet, when our entrées arrived, I longed for my emaciated snack. The Spicy Thai Basil noodle bowl tasted like watered-down water. As much as I tried to hide their imperfection by plopping on Sriracha hot sauce, the noodles remained savorless. Except now the noodle bowl tasted like spicy water, which caused me to drink larger quantities of Coke in order to assuage my burning mouth.

My friend’s meal was no consolation. Although the Sesame Chicken stir fry was infinitely more flavorful than my noodle bowl, it contained only a few scraps of chicken and a whole lot of vegetables. When had Doc Chey’s become so frugal?

I took a day off to ponder the stock market plunge of Doc Chey’s quality, and after hours of meditation, I realized Friday night’s meal must have been an anomaly. I returned on Sunday for round two.

Our appetizers came out steaming. The hand-made steamed Shanghai Dumplings were warm and moist. The combination of sticky dough on the outside and tender pork on the inside gave the dumplings a pleasant texture. Despite being a little too doughy, the pickled ginger gave the dumplings a nice zing.

Ten minutes later the real prize came – our entrees. The Pad Thai noodle bowl was everything the Spicy Thai Basil wasn’t. Filled with onions, bok choy, egg and peanuts, Doc Chey’s Phad Thai is an exemplary creation of the popular Thai staple. I left feeling vindicated.

Despite Doc Chey’s semi-demise, it still manages to offer a good meal. Just make sure to consult your nearest fortune cookie before you go. Maybe it’ll give you some insider information on how the food will be tonight.

SPEAKEASY

By Nora Cobb
Find Me

There we were, in a classy, upscale restaurant where reservations are essential, water is sipped out of a shot glass and college students bill tapas to their parents’ credit cards and my friend, Felipe, had the audacity to lean over the waitress, and steal leftover tenderloin kebobs from the neighboring table’s abandoned plates.

I guess I can’t blame Felipe—he was just trying to get the most for his buck. At $10 a plate, Speakeasy’s filet minion kebobs over mashed potatoes were the second most expensive tapa on the menu, after the $12 sesame tuna. In my opinion, the three toothpicks covered in charred kebobs was the snack, and the mound of moist mashed potatoes was the meal. If I had just wanted a snack I would have stuck with the spinach dip ($5.75). What could be more satisfying than a thick butter-cream soup in a bowl you can eat (it’s made of bread)? If you don’t want to share, go for the white pizza ($7) covered in red peppers and garlic, artichoke hearts, basil and ricotta. Be sure to leave your expectations at the door, though—a frozen Healthy Choice pizza tastes the same and is a lot cheaper.

If you’re on a budget, duck confit salad ($8.50) is a good substitute for the duck breast entrée ($16), which might as well be on the tapas menu. The salad, however, is just that—plenty of baby arugula, carrots and apricot stilton, but not enough duck. The meat’s tender subtleness melts in your mouth, but sadly, the duck is just a tasty topping hidden in a field of green. I would have rather paid double to savor the rare fowl instead of spending $8.50 on lettuce.

No matter which tapa you choose, the fried asparagus ($7.50) pairs well with anything. Presented in a tee pee like structure, these golden sticks meet your mouth with the same excitement as fried shrimp, but then remind you that they are a mushy green and delicious in their own right, as delicious as a veggie could be. As for the roasted red pepper sauce that sets these sticks on fire, it’s so zesty that half way through our meal my friend Brian exclaimed, “I could bathe in this dip.”

Speakeasy maybe hidden, but students flock to its East Broad Street location before a night downtown to share tapas and sip classy cocktails like the mango mojito ($6.50) or the grainy Georgia peach martini (5 ounce for $5 and 10 ounce for $8), which should have been named the Florida orange martini instead—it had a tangy citrus punch, not a sweet fuzzy fizz. At least with the Georgia peach you know you are sipping a cocktail and not a box juice—with sugar overpowering the taste of tequila, the berry martini was Juicy Juice in a martini glass.

For the winos, Speakeasy offers 25 white and 43 red wines from all over the world. Sold by the bottle ($20-$40) or by the glass ($6-$7), wine is an excellent complement to any tapa. In fact, the word tapa, which literally means lid or cover, comes from the dish’s traditional Spanish use as a top to protect wine from pesky fruit flies.

There certainly wasn’t a fruit fly in sight, though—it wouldn’t have found space. Seated at an oval table on high barstools, the only thing my party of six wasn’t touching was the floor. The restaurant tries to maximize surface area and becomes quite crowded at about 8 p.m. As for the low lighting, it’s Speakeasy’s attempt to create an intimate atmosphere. Trying to get to the substandard bathroom was a little too intimate for me, though. I felt like I was in a mosh pit or at a nightclub, like The Loft, with everyone rubbing up against me.

Two hours, six tapas, three martinis and one dessert later, the six of us stood in line waiting to pay and then struggled through the mob of college girls wearing shirts as dresses down the never ending flight of stairs.

Sure, Speakeasy maybe upscale (which is code for overpriced), but go with a group of at least six, exchange tapas and share a bottle of wine. End the evening with fallen chocolate cake ($5.50) and you won’t mind that you didn’t get a table with a view of North Campus. The tiny cupcake surrounded by an army of sliced grapes and strawberries has a warm chocolate lava center that can make any day of the week feel like your birthday.

WILDFIRE

By Taylor Dahl

Wildfire Restaurant

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After recently returning from a trip to Chicago, it was refreshing to visit Wildfire—a 40s style Chicago steakhouse that successfully offers the ambience of a big city eatery.

Located at Atlanta hotspot Perimeter mall, Wildfire is known for its food and likeness to Chicago. The exterior of the restaurant looked like it belonged in the windy city with its revolving door and modern architecture. However, I was hesitant about the quality of food once I saw the empty parking lot of Wildfire compared to the packed lot of its neighbor, Seasons 52.

Once inside, a burst of cold air gave me goose bumps and an unpleasant shudder. The frosty temperature inside was unwanted on a pleasantly balmy spring day. Besides the distracting temperature, the restaurant was very welcoming. The dining area was very quiet, perhaps due to the lack of clientele, but the ambience of the dimly lit room reminded me of my recent travels.

The waiters were efficient, circling tables routinely to offer service. Our drinks and a delicious onion roll were served immediately while my group decided on our lunch. The crab cakes appetizer was tender and refreshing, filled with onions, corn carrots and green peppers. The mustard mayonnaise sauce complemented the crab cakes with a spicy flavor that made me crave more.

When our friendly waiter came to our table for our main course orders, he said that Wildfire was known for its steaks, chops and seafood, but the lunch menu is famous for its salads. That perked my ears right up and I ordered Wildfire’s popular Chopped Salad. The salad was full of mixed greens, spit roasted chicken, avocados, tomatoes, blue cheese, bacon, scallions, corn, tortilla strips all tossed in a citrus vinaigrette dressing. This is the perfect lunch because the fresh vegetables (the tomatoes were exceptionally fresh) and the citrus vinaigrette dressing were refreshing and light. The blue cheese was an unexpected choice for this salad, but the flavor combination surprisingly worked. I ordered the small salad and it was huge—it could serve three people, so it’s a great dish for a small group of friends wanting to try new food at a low price. Our waiter also recommended the stuffed hickory burger. Wisconsin cheddar and bacon were cooked between the hamburger patties, which offered a thick and juicy taste, perfect for this spring lunch. The side of fries offered with the burger was crispy and not too salty. And finally, the Teriyaki Salad was another interesting salad combination. This salad offered a nice mix of greens, vegetables and grilled chicken, along with peanuts, cilantro, and an Asian dressing. The chicken had a mouth-watering teriyaki flavor.

The main courses came in proportions that were too big for lunch, but nice to take home for a late snack or dinner. I was so full that the idea of dessert was impossible; however, once the dessert tray found its way over to my table, the creamy key lime pie was impossible to resist—thank goodness for whole and half portions. With its creamy interior, the pie tasted as good as it looked. The graham cracker crust added a wonderful texture to the pie without overpowering the key lime taste.

Everything was cooked appropriately with just the right amount of seasoning, with most dishes offering a new flavor combination one wouldn’t normally try. If you love the upscale dining of Chicago, then this restaurant will be a trip down memory lane with a reasonably priced menu. And, if you’ve never visited the windy city, the experience of Wildfire will leave you craving the actual city and like any great trip, you’ll go home raving about the food.

MARY MAC'S TEA ROOM

By: Amanda Bruder

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I have never been a fan of Southern cooking. Growing up in suburban Chicago was as far from down home cooking as it gets. My eyes never even saw the likes of fried okra until my family moved to Georgia when I was ten years old. To this day, the thought of Southern food makes me cringe. The grease and the mushy vegetables (don’t even get me started on creamed corn) shut off all appetite sensors in my brain.

All of my past experiences have brought me to the realization that I need to give Georgia’s heritage a fair chance. Even foods deserve a second chance, right?

Mary Mac’s Tea Room, an Atlanta landmark since 1945, prides itself on its true southern cuisine. Catering to everyone from Richard Gere to the Dalai Lama, the restaurant is a well-known stop in the city. But would it win me over?

Upon arrival, the staff was overwhelmingly friendly. They made me, along with my party of six, feel welcome from the minute we stepped foot in the large, misshapen restaurant. It has expanded several times over the years and has been left with odd turns, rooms, and hallways. The restaurant’s walls are covered with pictures of visitors from all over and are an interesting attraction that guests flock to.

As we were seated at our table, I was taken by surprise when the waitress handed me a piece of paper to write down my order on. This was the beginning of my extremely informal dining experience at Mary Mac’s.

Shortly after sitting down, our table was greeted by a cheery and talkative woman named Jo. Given the title “goodwill ambassador,” she was there to make us feel right at home. Her warm demeanor helped me to relax and begin enjoying the restaurant’s southern hospitality (something I have never been comfortable with as an uptight yankee).

Before the main dish came out, the table was given a basket of corn bread, yeast rolls and cinnamon rolls to choose from. The corn bread and yeast rolls were forgettable, but the cinnamon rolls were amazing. The concept of cinnamon rolls as an appetizer seemed strange, but I went with it. The melt in your mouth taste of cinnamon and butter could only be topped by the sugary sweetness of it all.

After washing down my assortment of breads with extremely watery sweet tea, I was introduced to their complimentary treat for newcomers, potlikker. Unlike anything I have ever tasted, potlikker is a mix of broth and cooked collard greens in a bowl with a cornbread muffin on the side. The idea is to crumble the muffin into the bowl of broth and enjoy the mix of sweet and salty. I, however, could not bring myself to eat more than one bite. The broth was so salty it overpowered the other tastes.

Next on table was the appetizer basket of deep fried crawfish. These looked just like popcorn shrimp from Red Lobster. They were crunchy and included very little crawfish, just a whole lot of deep fried batter.

By this point I was beginning to think our food was never going to come. The atmosphere was so great that I almost hadn’t noticed we had been waiting for almost an hour for our food. At last it came and I was ready to eat.

I began with chicken and dumplings. I had only ever seen fluffy dumplings, but these were flat pieces of dough that had almost no flavor. I wouldn’t have minded so much, but with only two bite size pieces of chicken to be found, I was left with a bowl of flat, half-cooked, dough pieces. I then tried the green beans, which were surprisingly flavorful for boiled green beans, but I could tell they had a great deal of salt in them. Finally, I ended my meal with a sweet potato soufflé. Considered a side, the potato was loaded with marshmallows and cinnamon and felt much more like a dessert.

Mary Mac’s is very much a true Southern restaurant. My fellow dinner companions (all Southerners) were enthralled with every part of their meals. I, however, remain unchanged. I enjoyed the bread and the green beans, but the rest of my meal was forgettable. I may go back and give it another try, but my opinion remains that Southern food is for southern folk and I just don’t fit in.

EAST WEST BISTRO

By Katie McWane
East West Bistro
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On Saturday, Dawg fans had the annual experience of cheering for both offense and defense as their beloved and highly ranked team fought for glory among themselves. G-Day in Athens always brings out those hardcore fans to flood the streets of downtown. As a result, most restaurants had a two-hour plus waiting list.

Not East West Bistro. My dining pal and I turned down the 20-minute wait in the large dining area for immediate seating at a quiet, corner table for two in the bar. We even had a view of the G-day madness and misty rain from our small window perch, and our meal turned out to be quieter and more private than eating in the more open dining room.

Awkward and quiet, our water introduced himself, failing to present us with the evening specials between awkward twitches. We decided to order entrees at the same time as appetizers to avoid having to wait in mouth-watering anticipation for any longer than necessary. At this creepy-crawly pace we probably would have passed out from hunger if we hadn’t ordered all at once.

The appetizers, chosen from an endless list of “tapas,” consisted of black bean cakes ($6) and crab cakes ($10). Three refills of Diet Coke later, they finally arrived.

The grilled black bean and wild rice cakes were topped with salsa and sour cream. Essentially burrito innards, they were displayed in a more beautiful form on a bed of lush green lettuce. The juxtaposition of ricey paste with whole, pebble-like black beans was perfection. The chunky salsa contained freckles of cilantro and black pepper, creating a pop of flavor. Devoured in four swift bites, these cakes had a short life span at the hands of ravenous diners.

A light rendition of the normally heavy crab cake was perfect pre-meal. Full of flavor, the cake arrived stuffed with a concoction of grilled crab back fin and claw meat mixed with buffalo mozzarella and aioli and topped with a beautifully sweet Asian pear/hazelnut relish. The relish provided the perfect compliment to the savory cake.

The only unfortunate encounter of the appetizer experience was when the entrees showed up before we had finished. Our server removed the black bean cake dish, but with a quick hand slap, I insisted on keeping my beloved crab cakes to savor until the end.

As a result, our paper-covered table was over-crowded once the artichoke and sun-dried tomato pizza ($10) and red tortellini ($13) arrived.

The first few bites of the pizza, made on onion flat bread and topped with feta and Monterey jack cheese, were packed with flavor. However, the over-zealous amounts of feta quickly made each bite too bitter to bear. The cheese was overwhelming and its greasy nature didn’t help. The strong flavors of the two cheeses overpowered any taste of tomato that may have been hiding within. After a piece and a half of the four-piece plate, I moved on to my friend’s meal of red tortellini.

Chef Boyardee came to mind as I popped the first compact bite into my mouth. Stuffed with blended cheeses, the noodle itself was bland but comforting after the explosion of bitterness that was the pizza. However, when smothered in the tomato-basil cream sauce the flavor was simply too reminiscent of that childhood snack. Accompanied by zucchini, squash and spinach, the entrée had hardly any trace of flavor as a whole — unfortunate and misleading for something so vibrant with color.

To end our meal, we waited a good 20 minutes for Godiva martinis. Made with Stoli vodka, Godiva chocolate liqueur, and vanilla ice cream, these martinis alone will bring me back to East West. Perfectly creamy, this beverage/dessert goes down smooth with only the slightest twang of vodka. And the hardened chocolate swirls are another treat altogether.

Despite the pitfalls in service and the less-than-tasty entrees, this classic sundae with a grownup twist put all qualms to rest. All was right in the world as we left the haven of our corner bar table and re-entered the chaos that is Athens nightlife on Georgia game day.

FARM 255

By Rachel Webster
Farm 255

Farm 255 looks homey.

The restaurant looks like a deconstructed urban loft from a movie, all burnished concrete floors and bare-beamed ceiling. Windowpanes line one exposed brick wall, other walls are adorned with rustic-looking paintings of things like chickens. A bright red piano warms one corner of the airy dining room. The bar, steely and glinting, stretches back toward the open kitchen’s grills and stoves.

If only those grills produced consistently succulent fare, this place would be golden.

Alas, Farm 255’s entire concept – using fresh, locally grown produce and organic meat from Athens’ own Full Moon Farm – does not breed consistency.

The menu changes daily based on what’s available and tasty. A chalkboard next to the entryway declares today’s chicken came from Full Moon, the grits from Red Mule. It’s a great idea – fresh tastes better, and eating locally saves the environment one dish at a time.

Sometimes, though, the vegetables in season are boring, the food itself bland.

For starters, the house salad is one item that can change drastically. This one, with daikon radish and citrus vinaigrette, is plain and unappealing. The color is pretty, a bright, supple green, but it’s mostly lettuce. The spicy daikon is cut in matchsticks, frustratingly impossible to spear gracefully.

Other first plates manage to excite. The smoked trout atop a crostini with dill crème fraiche tastes fresh, neither taste strong enough to overpower the other. The smoked trout has a soft, flaky texture, a nice contrast to the rough crostini.

The second plates are not numerous, only six or seven offered daily at most, but they are varied. They run the gamut from Southern-inspired shrimp and grits to a beefy cheeseburger to a catch of the day not often seen in these parts, amber jack with quinoa.

The shrimp and grits entrée is luxuriously creamy, velvety even, with a saffron-colored shellfish sauce crowned with peppery shrimp. Asking for a spoon to scoop up every last bit would be justified.

Other large plates, though good ideas in theory, are simply executed poorly on this particular visit. The thick cheeseburger, though nicely complemented by caramelized onions and crispy, satisfying French fries, is not cooked to our medium rare specifications, disappointingly.

The special of the day, grilled amber jack with quinoa and grilled scallions, also arrives improperly cooked, the fish just underdone enough to be unappetizing on one end. The quinoa, a grain that is gathering popularity in the starchy side dish category, tastes completely unseasoned, uninspiring. The grilled scallions, though, are scrumptious.

Farm 255’s desserts also change regularly. Tonight’s flourless chocolate cake with vanilla sauce is tomorrow’s pine nut torte.

Laura Beth, our friendly server clad in an adorably embroidered apron, recommends lemon poppyseed cake served topped with Savannah honeycomb. It comes warm, she explained, so the honeycomb melts, spreading subtle sweetness with each passing moment. This cake is a light end to the meal, warm and fluffy and a little sweet.

“Warm” and “sweet” could also describe the service at Farm 255. Crusty sourdough bread showed up at our table, accompanied by olive oil for dipping, almost as soon as we’d settled ourselves in the wooden chairs. Laura Beth was attentive and knowledgeable about the day’s menu, no small task since it is different with every shift she works.

The food took a while coming out of the kitchen, but that’s a natural testament to the slow food style of the restaurant. Enjoy the atmosphere and environment instead of just wolfing down a meal and leaving.

At night, the environment shifts easily into dimmed-lights bar mode, with a stage outside for live music and picnic tables to support patrons’ glasses of fine wine and beer. The beverage list also features several unique cocktails, like a refreshing Pimm’s cup made with a splash of raspberry lemonade.

Farm 255 has a concept in sync with the green lifestyle, and a comfortable atmosphere to welcome its clientele. Muted colors, low lights, and cheerful artwork make the space more personable than pretentious.

The food, however, may require a slight compromise on the part of the diner. After all, this might be that dish’s first time on the menu.

THE BREAD BASKET

By Rachel Jacques

Ah, there’s nothing like the smell of gasoline and fried chicken in the morning. There’s also only one spot in Athens that simultaneously produces both of these delectable smells at once. While the outside may look like any other gas station snack stop, the inside of the Bread Basket on Chase St. offers a cafeteria-style serving line where you can order up an authentic and greasy southern breakfast.

The clientele here isn’t exactly of Ritz standards. I waited in line behind two men who became dangerously close to revealing a little crack, as a belt did not hold up their weathered and dirty work pants.

It’s not a new hot spot, but you can expect to wait. The line easily wraps around the store past the beer coolers. The line moves quickly and steam rises from behind the sneeze guard that stands between the client and food. I went full out with the breakfast plate that pretty much incorporates all the items you would want at once, complete with grits, eggs, a choice of meat and a buttermilk biscuit made from scratch that is so good it will make you wanna slap yo’ mama!

Your food is piled into a plastic to-go container, and the biscuit is separated from the rest of the meal by tin foil to avoid sogginess. You have a choice between fried or scrambled eggs. I recommend the scrambled. They are fluffy, fresh and real. No fake powdered eggs in this place, and not every fast food restaurant can claim that. The grits may not be as creamy and rich as Last Resort’s, but they are also not so dressed up. I enjoyed the simplicity of real grits made with just butter. After adding a little salt and pepper you really couldn’t have asked for much more.

The meat options range from ham to chicken to sausage, basically all the traditional “breakfast meats” are present. I advise against ordering the chicken patty. It is not fresh and was clearly defrosted from a box in the back. Instead, try the tenderloin. It is flavorful, fresh, and fried to a golden brown. The inside remains juicy and it is the perfect addition to the biscuit.

Forget the wine list at this joint, the Bread Basket, being a convenience store and restaurant simultaneously, offers any beverage your little heart desires. The coffee is hot, the sodas are bubbly and the cappuccinos are sweet. While it’s not gourmet, the cinnamon bun indulgence cappuccino from the machine was an awesome dessert. Lets just say I wasn’t counting calories this morning.

The seating here is reminiscent of lunches at school. After moving through the line you can take your food to one of the five bench seats and tables in the same dining area. Behind my head I heard a women buying Virginia Slims and paying for gas, but after all I didn’t come for the atmosphere.
It’s not pretty and admittedly, I wouldn’t use the restroom, but this is one special Chevron station. They have all the essentials for a great Southern breakfast: grease, salt and butter, and hey, who doesn’t want to start their morning with a good ole’ heart attack?

ADD DRUG

By Katie Wolitarsky

The ding of the door is the first sound that greets you when walking into one of the most local, familiar diners in Athens. Shortly after, a “good afternoon” comes from the cashier to your right, followed by a “welcome to Add Drug!” that pleasantly flows out from the nearby fifties-style dining counter top. Kids run up and down a narrow lane that separates the 16-seater lunch counter and the bordering aisles of cosmetics, hygiene products and Mother’s Day cards. This isn’t just any regular neighborhood diner, it’s the place you fill your prescriptions, rediscover childhood sweets like Pop Rocks and Jujubes, and immediately feel like you are in a scene out of Blast From the Past. All in all, it’s a time capsule.

The small amount of seating is cozy, which is a recurring theme to the entire place. Immediately you feel like you are having an afternoon conversation with your new best friends. The two ladies behind the counter know all the regulars by name. Brenda already has a milkshake, a favored treat here, in the blender for the kid two seats down before his mom can even get him to sit still. When it gets overwhelmingly crowded, which it does during the lunch rush, the staff doesn’t hesitate to find a stool in the back for the waiting elderly couple.

The food is nothing out of the ordinary, but somehow a BLT tastes so right in this setting. Maybe it’s because the bacon is generously applied and extra crispy or because watching them prepare and cook everything right before your ravenous eyes and grumbling stomach just seems to make everything taste so much better. The accordion crinkled french fries are oily and crunchy on the outside and fluffy on the inside. These perfect fries are a necessary side to your meal.

For an ambitious stomach, feed on (because feast is too big a word) a cheeseburger. A hungry boy could effortlessly put two of these patties of greased goodness down with a side of fries and a canned Cola. If you’re feeling bold, add a fried egg to top off your bacon cheeseburger for the ultimate taste fusion, where breakfast and lunch coincide.

There isn’t much that is healthy about Add Drug, which contradicts its adjoining neighbor, Earth Fare, but the hand-held portions are a good size that won’t leave you feeling too guilty. For something on the lighter side, the chicken salad sandwich is pure simplicity. Served on toasted wheat or white bread, lettuce and tomato should be added for that extra flavor and crunch. There is no overwhelming mayo taste, which successfully makes this sandwich an easy, enjoyable meal.

To wash it all down, you pick out a canned beverage from the countertop cooler, which then comes with a Styrofoam cup of crushed ice. Crushed ice is the essential element that can make just about any of their drinks quench a hot summer day thirst. Overall, the drink selection is fitting, but the sweet tea blend is sub par. Not sweet enough — a little bitter. Even though the South is famous for it, get your sweet tea fix somewhere else.

When checking out at the Add Drug cashier, pocket change is handy for once. The prices are unbeatable. At $3.25 the fully loaded cheeseburger is the most expensive thing on the menu. You cannot beat a satisfying meal when it comes at such a reasonable price. A regular or malted milkshake to-go is only $2.10, which leaves you smiling on your way home while rubbing your full belly.

The whole scene takes you back to an easier place and time where people would get together and enjoy a good meal and conversation with each other. It reminds me of childhood trips to Braum’s, the local creamery and lunch counter that my grandfather would treat us to when visiting him in Norman, Okla. Everyone greeted you and knew you by name, and you always left with a satisfied smile and a chocolate milkshake stain on your shirt. Today, I drove away from Add Drug with a big, nostalgic grin on my face and a ketchup stain on my sleeve.