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.