Santa Claus Is Coming to One Midtown

A few weeks ago, L got an email inviting us to have breakfast with Santa at One Midtown Kitchen on December 18th. He immediately made the 9:00 am reservation. We both agreed that taking A to see Santa at One Midtown sounded way better than standing in line at the Mall.

We have always loved One Midtown. It opened in late '02, and was the first restaurant in Atlanta that I dubbed "nightclub dining." The food is excellent, but you go there for the scene as much as for the food. One Midtown used to be on our regular rotation, but it's fallen off. So many new places have opened that it's hard to keep up. On top of that, One Midtown had a revolving-chef issue which resulted in it becoming a little...inconsistent. (However, Chef Drew has been there for awhile now and he's well known as an exceptional talent.)

Nonetheless, we were both excited to take A there for breakfast with Santa. But Saturday mornings aren't really my thing. And we were supposed to be there at 9:00 am. A typical Saturday for me involves going to turbo kick at 11:30, so I was a little concerned about accommodating both of these activities. To make matters worse, L & I had dinner at Ecco on Friday night, during which I consumed several martinis.

I explain all this to justify the extremely poor decision-making I displayed on the morning of the breakfast.

We all got up and got ready to go. L had to go to work immediately after the breakfast, so he showered and put on a suit. I knew A was going to get his picture taken with Santa so I put him in some dress clothes. Brown cords and a thick cable knit sweater. He looked adorable. But me? What did I decide to wear? Well, to start, I did not shower. What would be the point of that? I was planning on going to the gym afterwards. Since I was going to the gym, I put on gym clothes. Did I put on make-up? Of course not. Again, going to the gym. I did brush my hair, but just barely. So to say I looked a little rough, would be kind. But since the whole thing was going down at 9:00 am, and I honestly didn't think anyone in midtown would be up at that hour, I figured it would be ok.

Boy, was I wrong. How could I have been so misguided? I mean this is the place for whom I coined the phrase "nightclub dining." It's always been a scene. And the whole idea of breakfast with Santa targeted the beautiful, hipster intown parents. The type who effortlessly look good at 9:00 am.

The place was packed. And you know what? Regardless of my appearance, it was a blast. All of Atlanta's coolest parents were there. Handsome gay couples with kids - and you know those guys were decked out. Beautiful moms in designer clothes. People were knocking back mimosas and blooy marys. French toast and bacon was plentiful.

And Santa. I thought A was about to burst with excitement when Santa arrived. We had been given a number (17) when we arrived and had to wait til got there before us to finish with Santa was a real challenge for A. But he made it, and he happily sat on Santa's lap. We had practiced the day before what to say to Santa and he got it out: "Santa, please bring me Buzz Lightyear and Woody."

We had so much fun that we have decided to put One Midtown back on our radar. And we will most definitely return next year for breakfast with Santa. But I will be better prepared for the occasion. At the very least, I will shower beforehand!

Miller Union

Recently, Brad & I were discussing various restaurants in Atlanta and he mentioned Miller Union. This was, in fact, the second time I heard Brad mention Miller Union. When I told him that we had not been there yet, Brad scoffed at me and said "Well, you really haven't been anywhere then." Let me repeat: Brad scoffed at me.

The very next day, I made reservations at Miller Union for the following Friday night. I will not be scoffed at. When I mentioned to L that I wanted to go out to dinner Friday night, he said "Miller Union?" He will not be scoffed at either.

While Brad's derision was not deserved, it is true that L & I have not been out to a new (or really, any) restaurant in quite some time. So we were both quite looking forward to date night at Miller Union. L became even more excited on the way there when he realized that the restaurant was located in West Midtown, a supremely cool area of town that we seldom get over to.

The restaurant, in an industrial setting, managed to be sleek and warm at the same time. At the bar, I ordered their signature drink: the Miller Thyme martini. I'm ordinarily a vodka girl, but this was a gin martini. In fact, all their martinis were gin based, a trend I've noticed of late in Atlanta. I mentioned to the bartender that gin appeared to be new vodka, but he corrected me and explained that vodka had tried to be the new gin, but gin was back. (I have to confess the gin drinks I've had recently have been quite delicious. Not the tangueray and tonic of my college years!)

The restaurant was divided into smaller rooms which created a cozy atmosphere. Certainly, a problem with industrial spaces is they often are cold. Creating small rooms solved that problem. They also padded the walls which reduced the noise. Kudos to both those design touches.

I had spent the whole week studying the menu on line. So, getting the actual menu was a bit redundant. I already knew that I wanted the "farm egg baked in celery cream with rustic bread" for my appetizer. I was sure it was going to be fabulous. L opted for the chicken liver mousse, something I don't care for. Well, if the appetizer course was a competition, I won hands down. The farm egg was amazing. Soft, gooey, egg-y deliciousness.

For my entree, I had intended on getting the quail, but somehow the server talked me into the braised rabbit. Now, this dish was definitely melt-in-your-mouth delicious. The creamed turnips were divine and not like any other turnip I've ever tasted. Occasionally, I get a burst of orange in my mouth. But I have to admit, I couldn't get past the fact that it was rabbit. Maybe they could make it with something other than Peter Cottontail?

L had the New York strip. You would think that a man who runs a steakhouse would not order steak everywhere he goes. Well, you would wrong if you think that. His steak was good but it was the sides who were the stars. A savory polenta and perfectly done brussel sprouts.

Dinner was quite a success. I will now put Miller Union on my list of restaurants I must return to. I must have that farm egg again and I must try the quail next time. Of course, this assumes that I get out more!!

Date(s) Night

L & I haven't been able to get out much these days. We just moved and have been spending alot time and money on the new house. Add to that the fact that L has been working his a** off as of late. All this is to say that we just don't have the discretionary income or time to do much of anything.

Recently, we had an opportunity and we seized it. L scheduled himself off on a Friday night. I looked forward to this for weeks in advance. I tortured myself trying to figure out how best to spend this free Friday night. Should we go out with friends..or just the two of us? Should we have a dinner party? And most troubling of all....where should we go?

The few questions were easily answered. We opted for the date night. (This may be because it was just easier. If we decided to go out with friends, that would've led to a whole new host of questions...which friends? One other couple or two? I just wanted to keep things simple.) But choosing the right restaurant really challenged me. There are a million places on my list to check out, but it always seems that when the moment presents itself, no place seems quite right. Neither L nor I could agree on the right place.

Finally, after weeks of indecision, I suggested Rathbun's and L responsed "Rathbun Steak" - a place we have not been. We finally agreed and we were both super-excited about the prospect. Then, L's cousin Chris called and we invited him to join us.

So, now we were a party of 3. Still date night, but now I had TWO dates. Score for me. I put on my Jimmy Choos and my brand new little black dress and I was ready to party.

Rathbun Steak is quartered in a former industrial complex in the old fourth ward. It's urban, sophisticated and resoundingly male. But, then, what steakhouse isn't? To be honest, steakhouse really aren't my thing. If you've been to one, you've been to them all. They're all VERY expensive, have good steak, good sides, and few non-steak offerings (for the ladies.) Now, I like steak. I just don't necessarily need 22 ounces at one time.

With that being said, I would add that Rathbun Steak was a notch above your average steakhouse. Definitely a cooler, hipper version (with cooler, hipper clientele to match!) Since a steakhouse is a place of excess, it really was appropriate that I had 2 dates that night. We had a great night. The food was all fabulous. Cocktails - delicious and plentiful. Steaks - mouthwatering velvet. I had the tuna steak and it was perfect. The wine was luscious (but actually, we brought that), and dessert was sinful. And best of all, Cousin Chris picked up the (staggering) tab.

After dinner, the party continued over at Krog Bar (an adorable little place) where made new friends and stayed out much later than our old ages (or babysitter) warranted. Thank you, Cousin Chris for the fun evening. You can crash our date night anytime!

La Vitrola

In the months preceding our recent trip to Cartagena, Colombia, I prepared the way I usually do for vacations. I obsessively researched the dining scene to insure that we ate at all the "right" spots while on vacation. Now, I planned this vacation without really knowing a thing about Cartagena. Airfare was cheap and an old friend (Margaret who joined us on the trip) had mentioned it as being on her list of travel destinations. And it seeme exotic. Added to the mix was the fact that a favorite book of mine "Love in the Time of Cholera" takes place in Cartagena (and the movie was filmed there) and I was sold.

But after the tickets were purchased, my preliminary research told me that Colombia is not known for its food. In fact, I read that the food was bland and unsophisticated, even plain old bad. Oh, the horror! The whole trip was planned around L's 40th birthday and I had somehow picked a place with lousy food! However, on further research, I learned that Cartagena is considered Colombia's restaurant capital. Whew! Huge sigh of relief.

In all my research, one name kept coming up as *the* restaurant in Cartagena: La Vitrola. I couldn't read enough good things about it. According to reports, it was as legendary as it was hard to get in. I booked a reservation a month in advance, without difficulty. And then I waited impatiently for our dinner.

There were 4 of us for dinner that night. We arrived and were ushered in the somewhat secret door by the security/doorman who stands vigil at the door. He won't allow anyone in who doesn't have a reservation. We then mosied over to the bar for a pre-dinner cocktail and to catch a bit of the cuban band. The mojitos were awesome. The band was terrific.

The restaurant itself was charming. Set inside a 400 year old former monastery; it has real South American charm. This definitely was not an Atlanta restaurant. It was cavernous, yet intimate. There was something very 19th century about the restaurant, but the mojitos were definitely 21st century.

After cocktails, we sat in the dining room for dinner. Even though it was a Wednesday night, the restaurant was full. The food was cuban-inspired and everything was fabulous. I ordered the ropa vieja (which Margaret later told me translates to "dirty clothes" or "dirty laundry" or something.) It was delicious; a sort of spicy pulled beef with rice and peppers. The appetizers, mini empandas, were also great. Margaret, L, and Tom (a friend living in Colombia who joined us) all ordered pasta dishes and all raved about them. Dessert was awesome, too. ANd the mojitos flowed through out the night, while the cuban music pulsed.

We ate in many excellent restaurants while in Cartagena, but La Vitrola surpassed them all; in both food and atmosphere. I hope some day I get to return to this beautiful restaurant, but until then, I have the cherished memory of this fantastical night.

Shaun's Restaurant

Dear Shaun's,

I owe you an apology. We use to have you on our regular brunch rotation. But, somehow, you fell off. This is partly because we haven't been going out for brunch quite as much as we used to, and partly beacuse you're off our beaten path. You're clear on the other side of town and we just sort of....forgot. (ok, there was also a calorie-intake issue, but that's my problem, not yours!) I'm sorry. Believe me, I'm sorry becuase it was clearly our mistake. I now kneel down before you and beg your forgiveness.

Shaun's is a lovely restaurant in Inman Park. We've gone a few times for dinner, but usually we go for brunch. There's something so casually elegant about this restaurant. The decor manages to evoke Provence and urban chic. The food is both simple and complicated. Shaun Doty manages to make delicious, things I ordinarily steer clear of (chopped liver, anyone?) If the restaurant isn't lovely enough, the patio is even more so. It's so unexpected. It's this little hidden oasis in the back. Tucked away, not visible from the street.

After a long absence, we returned to Shaun's for Sunday brunch recently. As soon as I walked in, I felt at home and I realized "oh, I missed it here!" It's an odd feeling to not know you missed something until it's staring you in the face. How had I forgotten this little gem?

We sat on the patio, a group of 5. L insisted ordering arugula flatbread and chopped liver and egg for appetizers, along with a lovely bottle of pinot rose. Now, I'm not a fan of chopped liver, but Lee insisted I try it, and I have to say: it was delicious. The flatbread, of course, was extraordinary. Just the right amount of sea salt.

For my entree, I ordered the Louisiana grits and crawfish, with creole sauce and a sunny-side up egg on top. (Yeah, I threw the diet out the window that day!) To say it was delicious, doesn't do it justice. It was beyond delicious. It was heaven in my mouth. L had a burger and fries. Legend has it that those fries are cooked in duck fat. I believe that's why they are so darn good. We had a second bottle of rose with our entrees. Everyone was completely satiated by the meal's end (and a little buzzed!) Later that day, L looked at me and said "Can we go to Shauns' for brunch again...right now?"

Well, the good news is we moved and are now closer to Shaun's. Hopefully, this will translate to more frequent meals there. And I'm rooting for dinner. If brunch was this good, how great will dinner be?

Festival Food

So what's a self-proclaimed "foodie" like me doing writing about festival food? Serioiusly, does festival "food" count as food? Isn't it just offered to absorb the booze consumed?

Well, those are good points. Here, in Atlanta, spring is upon us and with it brings an outdoor festival each weekend. We, Atlantans, love to party outdoors under the guise of appreciating arts and crafts and live folk music. And what culinary delights are offered at these weekly festivals? Well, there's no escaping the ubiquitous chicken gyro. Don't forget the corndogs. Oh, and my personal favorite: "ice cream of the future," something called Dots. Man, that's some weird stuff.

But in New Orleans, they have a different way of doing things. L, A, and I just returned from a weekend in NOLA, celebrating Jazz Fest, the outdoor festival to end all outdoor festivals. Now, the music at Jazzfest is spectacular to be sure. But the food! I think I can safely say that we go for the food. We enjoy the music, but we make the 7 1/2 hour trek for the food.

And there's so much to choose from! Leave your diet at home and sample as much as you can. This year I opted for jambalya (ok, it had the shortest line, but it's always a safe bet!), a duck confit po'boy (mmmmmm!), and crawfish monica (can't go wrong there!). Little A had some crawfish bread which is like some delicious grilled cheese only w/ crawfish in it. L had a muffaletta and God knows what else (that man can eat!) Honestly, we barely scraped the surface. I missed out on the pheasant and quail gumbo, which my friend Jen said is her favorite thing. I resolve next year to make that a priority! Cajun sushi sounds scary to me, particularly if it's been sitting in the hot Louisana sun (but I am a little curious about it!) I always plan on getting the cochon po'boy, but the long line always scares me away. Next year, I may try the catfish almondine. That looked pretty good, too. There are desserts, too. Bread pudding, anyone...

So Atlanta, step up! Next time Paul McCartney is performing in Piedmont Park, do you think you could offer some food befitting the occasion? Look to the west, maybe New Orleans can cater the event.

Livingston

As long as I've lived in Atlanta, I've been enamored with the Georgian Terrace. Such a beautiful building, gracing the corner of Peachtree and Ponce de Leon. For the longest time, it sat, not quite abandoned, but not thriving either. Certainly, not living up to its potential either. I believe it was a hotel. But, was it? It seemed....empty.

Then, about a year ago, I drove by and noticeed a steel sign on the terrace announcing "Livingston." I thought "what's that?!? Is a cool new restaurant finally opening in that gorgeous building??" I was right. I also learned that the whole building had been renovated and was now a swank hotel, with a swank new restaurant.

I've been there now four or five times. It never disappoints. I just love dropping the car off at the valet and being escorted through the revolving door by the bellmen. I love strolling through the white marble lobby, making my way to the restaurant.

My first visit to Livingston was last Mother's Day. L was working so Brad & Eric graciously offered to take A and I to brunch. It was beautiful Sunday in May. A perfect day to sit on the magnificent terrace that overlooks Peachtree. Somehow, even though the terrace sits on Peachtree and Ponce, not the most "genteel" part of the city, sitting there, one can't help but feel peaceful, relaxed and in another time. My mind wandered to a time when trolleys rang down Peachtree, when the red carpet adorned the Fox Theater and the Georgian Terrace hosted the premiere of "Gone With The Wind." When you sit on that terrace, it's like you are there.

I remember that day, too, because A was so much fun. I got dresed in a pretty blue dress which A ruined by smearing his greasy little fingers all over it. But I didn't mind. I remember him laughing and feeding me french fries. Giggling and cooing at me. Brad & Eric, who have no kids and are very proper, tried desperately to ignore the toddler love-fest.

Livingston lives up to the grandeur of its surroundings. The food is elegant. The restaurant timeless. On the bar sits a white marble bust of the restaurant's namesake, a former mayor of Atlanta who lived across the street and was known for his flamboyant lifestyle. Cocktails at the bar include ingredients like absinthe. Now that takes you back, no?

I had dinner there again last Saturday night. Luckily, the weather was perfect and we sat on the terrace. It was beautiful. Like a fairy tale.