A Quick Restaurant Review - Tabard Inn

The DC stories #4
I went, I ate, I drank, caught some hot jazz and then on Saturday I had brunch! For the new folks, brunch and I have an affair going for ages. I just can't leave it! There is something about a late breakfast on Saturday, maybe on a warm patio, with light conversation. It all seems so movie magical. And damnit, I wanna be in the movies!

Since I was going to be in DC, the idea was to pop in, see a few sights, shake hands with a few folks I hadn't seen in a minute and run through a wedding before jumping back on a flight to the ATL. Yeah, sounds it exciting doesn't it? And since Sporty was out of town, I let Shade know I'd be in the area. Shade just a few weeks before had announced her engagement, so when we talked about brunching on Saturday, I thought I was going to meet the new fiance and get to give him the once over. But Shade picked me up from hotel alone. Which was cool, she has a two-seater and I wasn't going to set on his lap.

The Tabard Inn looks like a converted old row house, which it may very well be, and serves as a boutique hotel on N Street,  just off Dupont Circle. The restaurant, also called the Tabard Inn, is in the back, and it's supposed to be super good. And for the record, we did NOT have reservations, which are highly suggested. Shade figured she could just get us in. I think I know too many VIP divas. 

The waiting area for the restaurant (not hotel check-in) has more of a living room feel than any waiting room I've ever sat in. It's all antique photos and paintings, frumpy but comfortable old couches fronted by coffee tables wrapped around a dormant fireplace. The space's only drawback is that its in the middle of the building so there is no natural light. It was the kinda spot you could get a good book, close the doors and read all day. The restaurant itself, on the back of the building, was the DC standard, cramped and old...the two signature motifs of the city that seem to permeate every establishment. Checkerboard floors, wooden tables, and patio that unfortunately was dominated by shade. Did I mention it was small... no wait, intimate. But they serve brunch. All the rest fades.  

We started with the doughnuts, which have a cinnamon sugar on them. They weren't Krispy Kreme, but they came with a vanilla whipped cream that set them off just right. For the entrees I got the Scrambled eggs with house-made Toulouse sausage and home fries, and she got a Crab cake with fried green tomatoes. For some reason this simple order took a while, and for some other reason the eggs were a little less firm when it did show up. But it was still pretty good. I tasted a bit of her crabcake  For dessert we shared an apple tart with ice cream on the side.  The design was unusually good, with the right mix of creamy, a crunchy toffee covering and the apple's core sweetness.

During our long interlude, she brought me up to speed on the goings on with her, the medical career, her DC house buying adventure, the prospect of an instant family with her fiance's child, the getting of a child friendly car, the impending nuptials and the difference of her longstanding insistence to be married in South Africa for her family's sake versus the now harsh reality of the logistics nightmare of such an undertaking. There was one other big secret, but that's a another story. I'll fill you all in later.

After we ate we went for a quick world wide tour. Just around the corner from the Tabard Inn are a series of embassies, and we walked into what I think was called the "Passport to DC", where the various embassies opened their doors, set our a spread and said come on by. The streets were packed and we listened to the bands from Peru, Trinidad and Tobago, and were tempted by the delicious aromas and goodie bags. We'd planned to make a circle and end up in Australia, when just as we got to Chile, whose band was on break, Doctor Shade's on call beeper went off.  And that was that...

So was the Tabard Inn good? Yes, in a word. Would I go back? It's someplace I can take Sporty when I go back and say confidently that I have been there. Now, because everyone isn't me, and I realize that as of late I've been able to get by with them, I'm gonna suggest that you make reservations.

A Quick Restaurant Review - Bocado

My Saturday was originally planned to be uneventful. It was to be whiling away the hours hoping my little fortress didn't run out of water OR trying to lead my virtual basketball team to a make believe NBA championship.  Neither are particularly satisfying, I should be writing and although story ideas and dialogue dance through my mind I have been less than inclined to write. It's a certain ennui. So when my brother and his paramour, who shall be referred to by his old nickname for her - Sal - said they would be stopping through it was at least something different.

I cleaned up, and they swung by after jaunting through some nearby neighborhood they'd heard was nice, but wasn't. After some sage career advice from Sal, a successful lawyer for quite some time, they decided to pop around the corner for lunch. In my neighborhood. Ha ha ha. For some reason I couldn't talk them trying the Chinese restaurant where you got served from behind the security glass. Instead they invited me along,and we decided to hit the Westside of Atlanta, an area with a more than burgeoning dining scene. As you know, I don't really go out like that since Sporty left, she's the perfect dinner date, so my dining selections weren't very helpful. And since I couldn't talk them into Curly's Fried Chicken, we decided on Five Season's Brewery.

I know I said Bocado. Hang on. 

Five Seasons on West Marietta is at the corner of what I imagine Buckhead must have looked like before the bars, which they have since torn down, moved in.  There is a coffee house, a pottery place, gym and plethora of other eating spots all right there in walking distance (or just over walking distance) of some nice townhouses and lofts, in one of which Sal's daughter, Little Sal, makes her home. Oh the modern college student. My brother joked that Lil Sal would pop up before long since she knew they were in the area, her being a student she probably couldn't pass up a free meal.  We got a spot on their upper deck Sky Bar and opened our menus.

It was about here I find out that my brother has apparently become somewhat of a gourmand over the past few years.  I say this because I one time in his life he was overjoyed to eat undefined meat over his rice from one of our home town bistros (read: hole in the wall joints), but now finds that the taste of grass fed beef is untenable to his sensitive palate.  That and sweet wines like Moscato and Reiselings may as well be sugar water. The wines I knew about but the beef preference was new, and became an issue because as it turns out, Five Season's Brewery is an all organic restaurant.  Grass fed beef all around. Considering I've dined their several times, that I'm just now finding that out may indicate a lack of inquisitive depth on my part.

As luck would have it,  we could see Bocado from our perch on the balcony.  The burger there had been touted by Lil Sal as the best in Atlanta, so my brother consulted his phone to check the menu, called and confirmed the beef was regular beef and having been so informed, decided we should decamp and head over.  I simply followed their lead.

So, Bocado is...well, every other high end restaurant I've seen in the past few years on those occasions I've been out for drinks.  I don't get out much anymore, so maybe there is some diversity somewhere, but I haven't seen it. Somewhere in Atlanta the designers got together and said "let's see how little we can do and still get paid." Bocado uses the ubiquitous single room concept. Concrete floors. Bare tables and plastic chairs. And that's about it. They at least had the decency to paint the brick this time, a nice off pale beige.  The crowd was a mix of upscale suburbanite couples, the people in the know and, um...people of a slightly advanced age. The couple that walked in beside us could have been older than my parents. They were among friends. That aspect was admittedly different.

We got a table on the patio in the back then, in a unique twist on my usual dining experiences, everybody got the same thing: The burger. It's in the Five Guys mold, with two patties on a soft bun, only Bocado's burger is less greasy and the bun a little stronger than the affable chain. I will have to admit, it is a much better burger than I anticipated, even though you can't get all the toppings (full disclosure, I only ever get ketchup and mustard). I even had my first few bites sans my usual addition of french fries just to be sure. And the fries are good too! They come with garlic if you ask, and it actually makes them taste better. I'm a little sad I opted for no fries with mine. And no, I didn't filch fries, I was offered.

Just as we were finishing up, as sure as the sun rises in the east, Lil Sal appeared from around the corner. I use her as a measuring stick for my brother's relationship, in that when I first met her she was four or five, and now she's of drinking age.  My brother and Sal been hanging out for a long time. It was the usual mother-daughter conversations, the we used to be in college and you don't know how good you got it conversations, and the man that food was good conversations. Actually rather pleasant.

For dessert, me and lil' Sal split the "chocolate cake with sea salt." No seriously, it had sea salt sprinkled on the top. Was supposed to be amazing. Supposed to be. In reality, not so much. But overall, it was nice experience. Good burger, good company, good conversation. Might have go back by there one day. Take a friend. If she's in town. I will be like old times. And hopefully times to come.

Phone Stack

Internet Stuff Post
If you live alone, and are tired of most of television, although I am now thinking of getting the Brazilian Booty Butt Lift DVD to tighten and tone up, and so between reading and homework you surf the internet looking for something to keep the mind stimulated, you stumble over things. This is one such thing.



I found this online and really can't wait to play a round of this some folks I know. Although considering my neighborhood I'll probably be picking up checks like a chocolate candy because every time my phone chirps (yes, I've turned the sound on now) my stomach lurches just a little bit. But then maybe one of you out there can get a free meal or three out of it.

From the inventor : The initial purpose of the game was to get everyone off the phones free from twitter/fb/texting and to encourage conversations.

Rules:

1) The game starts after everyone has ordered.

2) Everybody places their phone on the table face down.

3) The first person to flip over their phone loses the game.

4) Loser of the game pays for the check for the whole table.

5) If the bill comes before anyone has flipped over their phone everybody is declared a winner and pays for their own meal.

Note the context of rule #3. The reason for turning the phone over doesn't matter, and since the phone is face down you can't look at the number and make the decision not to answer it. This gives rise to the simple concept that unless you're a doctor on call, that ringing phone shouldn't take precedence over people sitting there. (Special ringtones were not considered in this calculation)

Barkeep, a round for my friends. Except that one on phone. Yeah, we can ALL see the bluetooth!

A Quick Restaurant Review - BLT Steak

I haven't really gone out to dinner with anyone since...well, you know, but Shade was up in arms about me doing something to celebrate my birthday. For her day she's flown places, hosted dinner parties, etc, and the idea of somebody not actively celebrating was mystifying to her. After a few false starts, and a suggestion from a most surprising source, we ended up at BLT Steak at the W hotel downtown.

It's small, relatively speaking, and it's got one of those paper menus that they print everyday because they're always changing something. And it's pricy, I mean the hamburger was the price of dinner for two at your average mid-market sit down dinner spot. It's what you'd expect from a W hotel, in other words - very nice. All cool muted browns and glossy wood finish tables. The service was especially good, with forks flying and napkins being re-folded when you got up and had to leave the table. If you've never been someplace like that once, you need to go, it's a different kind of service.

BLT Steak - Our table was just to the right...

And, they have an absolutely excellent selection of whiskeys, including something for $65 dollars a shot which I wisely decided really wasn't in my price range. The other broad selection of whiskeys, something I haven't seen since Ray's on the River, was encouraging, and I settled on something with a Buffalo on the bottle, just to be different. Points off because the barkeep didn't know there was a real difference between scotch whiskey and real whiskey, but you can't have everything.

For dinner we both got the Wagyu skirt steak (medium), mine with onion rings and BBQ corn, her's with a Swiss Chard. And because I haven't had any in ages, and although it felt like a betrayal, I ordered the crab cake appetizer. I know it sounds silly, but it does. Of course I still haven't had any Indian since, and I miss it. The steak was charred on the outside just enough, but pink and juicy in the middle. And the pop-over bread, their "upmarket" version of a yeast roll was tasty, until it got cold.

I like this spot, I'll admit now, because even before we got our food the place was interesting. The server turned out to be a man of contrasts. Although he possessed an accent that has to have grown up on dirt road in the backwoods of Alabama or South Carolina, when Shade asked for a wine paring for a Wagyu Skirt steaks, he not only produced a nice vintage, but broke into a very technical explanation of why chose it, and why he liked it's lack of tannin when combining with how the steaks were to be cooked. It turned out he's a sommelier in training, Second level, and we launched into a good five minutes of wine discussion. I mean, you expect your waiter to know the wines, but he really knew the wines. I mean, he also wore his braids in pigtails but then you never really know do you?

Over dinner, Shade explained to me the surprising source of this dinner inspiration after our first mis-step at Cloud iX middle school..er, lounge and bar. I'd gotten their first, expressed my displeasure via phone and wandered around the corner to No Mas Cantina, to wait for her. There I get a text from Scoop with dinner options. I'm a little shocked, because these two aren't even supposed to be speaking. But it turns out at some point in the last five days, they've made amends. In fact while we're eating, Scoop texts us and lets us know we could have had dinner at her house. I stop asking questions, because the whole thing is too surreal for me at that point.

For dessert, for which they thoughtfully inscribed Birthday wishes in chocolate on the rim, I was granted a chocolate peanut butter confection (think high end Reese Pieces) topped with a banana ice cream. Not too shabby. Nothing I would have chosen myself, but it was nice gesture.

Then when the check came, Shade grabbed it and paid it before I could even see how much it was. Well, because I'm curious, I peeked and saw how much it was, and that steak and other what not now qualifies as the second most expensive meal I've eaten. I include that sentiment because I don't want a gentle reader to wander in and look for the value meal. But, I want to go back, and will ...under the right circumstances. Nice place. Very nice place.

Now I wish I invented some kinda rating system.

I Apparently Like Black Shirts

Mental Rehab Post #31
In an effort to complete this mental/emotional rehab, I've decided to start posting what would considered to the undiscerning eye to be some general crap. It is not. What you are seeing here is like when you re-organize anything - the stuff you forgot you had has to be moved as well. Mentally, these are little tidbits of trivia and silliness is that box of stuff in the back of the closet with that "omigod, I thought I'd thrown this out" stuff in it. And apparently...black shirts.


In looking at my laundry, which was still folded on top of the dryer when I went looking for a shirt last (fill in any day of the week here), I came to a realization that I am a very dark person. And by that I mean I must own 15 or 20 black shirts. Long sleeve, short sleeve, pullovers, button up, polos, collar-less, faded, sharp black etc. And a lot of dark blue shirts as well. I have a few tan shirts, and like two red. And one purple that will probably never see the light of day again. And, maybe two green, I think I remember a green polo from like three years ago. But all of them together don't add up to the number of black shirts I own.

Shade may have been correct in her thought that black is my favorite color. Sporty used say I looked good in a black suit.

I like dark fabrics. Slimming. Okay, most of my underwear happens to be black or dark blue as well, but I can explain. I moved from white to colored underwear in college to simplify the laundry process, an important factor when you don't own you own machine. I've had a machine of my own for all but three of the years I've been in Atlanta and for those who don't know - first you buy the house, the second purchase is the the washer and dryer. You can get the lights and water turned on in a day or so, and furniture can come anytime later. Damn a fridge or a stove. I mean you can always eat out, but a laundromat visit can ruin your whole weekend.

And in my current neighborhood, I ain't just trying to milk the chicken with that thought.

And jeans. I need to buy some jeans. My office is like supremely casual, and when I say that I mean we run the gamut from sport coats and khakis to hipster motorcycle boots and metal band tees to football jerseys and knee shorts. So nice jeans and shoes with a shirt means I'm one of the better dressers on staff. Only I need some new jeans...and I suck at clothes shopping. I mean that. You should see some of the stuff I've bought. Other than the black shirts..

That maybe why I own so many black shirts.

If get some Grey shirts, too flashy?

Barkeep, get me a black Russian. Get it...Black... I like black... wuteva, Makers and sprite.

The Burger Review

In a desperate effort to lighten my mood, and turn the tide from a pity party over Sporty that I seem to be falling into, I will now attempt to move on to lighter fare, something a little funny.




I like a good hamburger. Not a cheeseburger, or bacon cheeseburger or anything jalapeños or served with slaw or an egg or anything like that, but a good old fashioned bread - ketchup - mustard - beef - bread style hamburger. (Okay, I put fries on it too, but that's a separate issue.) If you go in most fast food restaurants you have to ask to they just serve a plain hamburger the menu is so chock full of "other" items to give you the full range of choice.

I don't need choice however. I need a hamburger.

A well made hamburger is a thing of beauty. I had one the other day at a cookout that had green and red chili's cut up in it with onions, just like you had when you were a kid. But then I don't like those hamburgers. I'll end up giving them my kids (provided I ever have any) so they can have the experience, but well made hamburger is just well formed meat. It's juicy without being overly greasy. It's got a texture that doesn't make chewing it a chore. The bread needs to be a bun, seeded, that's warm and soft.

You'd be surprised how few places make this burger.

With the advent of "toppings" the basic taste at the beginning, the burger, is washed away. So caught up with the other flavors you begin to wonder that if you took the burger part away would anyone notice. It's kinda like being able to appreciate the subtle taste of vanilla, which makes the rest seem like dressing up nothing.

Some notes....

Wendy's
A fairly decent burger. It's a little too greasy and a good mouthful goes down almost too easy, with only a mild beef taste. They make up for it with fries.

Burger King
The whopper, which if you stand there and actually watch them make you would hesitate at eating, it the most burger tasting of the "cheap" burgers, although $3 for a sandwich isn't exactly cheap. They need to work on their fries, which vary between edible and horrible.

McDonalds
You don't really expect a review here did you? Did you read my previous post on McDonalds?

Fatburger
I like the burger, but it's not juicy enough. I like the fries, which are clean and crisp. I don't really like the bun. Watching them make it makes me less hungry.

Five Guys
I don't know who these five guys are, but shole do know how to make a burger. Two patties on one bun as the basic, juicy but not greasy, bun is warm...the fries are hand cut! Now I want one. Damn.

Hardees
I used to eat Hardees as a kid. Loved it. I actually preferred their fried chicken to KFC. They they invented the Thickburger. And the quite frankly the thickburger ain't worth shit.

The Varsity
I understand the Varsity is and Atlanta institution and speaking badly of it may have me up on charges. That said I will never eat from there again if I can help it. The fries are good when hot though.

Checkers
There is a reason the place is a drive thru. Because if you could go back and reach across the counter and smack the people who made this sorry excuse for a burger you would. And take note, not everybody likes seasoned fries!

Wing Factory
Oddly this place I love for the wings makes a pretty good burger. It was almost astonishing when I got it. And Double Bonus - The fries are crinkle cut!

Fuddruckers
I used to dream of Fuddruckers, then I starting working at a place where one is down the street. I don't dream that dream no more. I mean the meat is still good..but he bun...and the sorry, and do mean sorry fries. Come on...for the loot I'm spending here! Geez.


That's the quick roundup...a few other places around here - Backyard Burger, Zestos, the Vortex - I really don't go to often enough to get a good feel, so rather than be biased I'm leaving them out.

Barkeep - Can I get a Vanilla Shake? No, seriously.

A Quick Restaurant Review - Mali

Thursday night in Atlanta. There is the Leopard Lounge. Esso's is hot now. The guys at work got together at Hooters for a party for a guy transferring to another section. And Sporty and I ended up in Thailand via the Virginia Highlands. Sporty has always been into spicy food, the spicier the better. She enjoys it when we eat and I'm sweating at the table. So we ended up at Mali in the VA.

It's on Amsterdam, but don't be confused. It's not on the mini-mall down in the gully end, but on the other end tucked back in another semi-mini mall. They've got a little post office and dog groomer and a furniture store and like no parking. I lucked out and found a spot as the mini caravan of five of us made our rounds through the lot. It was like musical chairs as the guy in front got a spot when someone pulled out, I got a spot when someone else pulled out and the guy after me and so on.

Upon entering I realized something else. Mali is at 7/10ths scale. What I mean is that the restaurant is not built for normal sized people. Or to put it more bluntly, management really maximized the space. The waitresses are all waifs because it's the only way they can get through the tables. A crowded space is the term, but jammed up in there is more descriptive. Seated the back of my chair touched the chair of the lady sitting behind me. I felt a need to join in their conversation. I wanted to try the appetizer at the next table it was so close.

But no matter, again I go for the company, not the ambiance. For an appetizer we got these rolls with chicken and shrimp and the pork satay. Or it could have been chicken satay. Tasted kinda like pork. Maybe. Doesn't everything taste like chicken? They look exactly the same, chicken or pork. I noted in an odd time warp, the table next to us seated, after us, not only got their appetizers first but got to order first too and everything.

So difficult parking, crowded space, semi-bad service. Things are not looking good.

I got the beef curry and she got the Panang Chicken. But it's going okay otherwise, we're chit chatting and looking at each other funny, which we do sometimes and it's all okay. Then my food comes. And hers doesn't. For like ten minutes. I'm uncomfortable eating when my dinner partner isn't eating and the manager gave us the rigmarole - "I'm so sorry" ten times and cussing out the help - when her food did get there.

So difficult parking, crowded space, actually bad service....but good food.

The place's saving grace is the food. If they lose three tables in the main dining room and get a valet, this would have been sweet. The curry was spicy but not too much. The beef was tasty, the rice was sticky but not too much. It was like my sweet old Thai grandmother used to make...had I been Thai. Sporty thought it was good food too, but the service had soured the whole experience.

We got our to-go boxes, the bill didn't reflect our inconvenience with the service and Sporty wore heels. She rarely does that. I like them on her. I changes her walk, which I liked before, but it's a nice change. I like it either way.

So...good food. Crowded space. Difficult parking at peak hours - the parking lot was fine when we left at nine. Around the off the beaten path. But I was with Sporty...and with her I can get through anything.

Barkeep --- would you believe they had no sweet tea!

A Quick Restaurant Review - Trader Vics

I've long heard of Trader Vics. It's legendary. They invented the Mai-Tai. And I've often meant to end up at the one here in Atlanta and see what all the hubbub is about. Yeah. So when Sporty suggested we try it out I was with it. It's supposed to Tiki island decor and all that, so was ready to put on my Hawaiian shirt and get jiggy with it.

I'm sorry I just wrote that.

First, Trader Vic's is in the basement - yeah, funny thing - the basement of the Hilton. No idea why. None. And there are no real signs, just a little thing over the elevator door that says Trader Vics and the writing on the button. And the Hilton has this really funny elevator bank, with elevators on all sides...but only on two opposite sides do they go down. Which they don't tell you, so I'm standing there for like three minutes wondering why the light keeps going off but the doors on the side I'm looking at aren't opening. Genius!

So I get downstairs and it's...a bar. Um...a bar?

Okay...let me tell you what I expected. Some place ill lit, with a long bar worked by with guys in formal Hawaiian shirts. A series of dark and darker rooms, flame pits (or at least charcoal), odd but delicious smells wafting around corners and drinks that looked semi lethal being carted about by Polynesian style Hooters girls. What I got was a stiff Applebees with a Tiki motif. Hey I enjoy a tourist spot as much as the next guy...but this was tourist circa 1950. The music was okay but the rest? Er...

No matter, I came for the company. Sporty and I settle in and get the appetizers for two instead of the usual crab cakes and couple of Mai Tais. These drinks were big AND strong. And then I found out something else. Trader Vic's is a Chinese restaurant! Okay, not strictly Chinese, more Polynesian Asian flair, but still, our entrees were in the "from our Wok" part of the menu. Rice in a bowl with chicken and shrimp for her, beef in bowl with veggies and rice for me. We got fortune cookies to finish.

We talked about the mundane: house stuff, work stuff, why she only had on one earring. Or at least we did till we got to the second round of Mai Tais. Then we talked about more philosophical things. And stress. Her leaving has me extremely stressed - eating wise, sleep wise, energy wise. She told me I need to just let go of my stress - but then doesn't appear to realize she is the cause of it. We got in a conversation where we danced around the issue, and if she wasn't occasionally the most wonderfully oblivious person I know I would have thought she was toying with me. I have a tendency to hang onto things in my soul. I want so much to tell her this...but it won't change anything and will only cause grief. She told me to pray on it, and I have been. Only when I pray I'm not praying for my happiness...I'm praying for success for her.

A third round of these and we'd have had to get a room to sleep it off. And it would have gotten ugly because I was already breaking a drinking rule, so we stopped. The service was swift, a bit of the beef undercooked, the "stuffed" puffer fish looked dusty and the bill for two plates of rice and couple of drinks was steep. On the upside they do validate.

Barkeep...water with umbrella. Man them Mai Tai's was strong.

A Quick Restaurant Review - Steel Rest. & Lounge

We had reservations at seven on a Wednesday for the new hotspot Steel Restaurant and Lounge down in Midtown on West Peachtree just below 10th street. Despite a growing chorus of logic and reason, I continue to confound myself by hanging out with Sporty. I never said I was bright.

Now from 5 to 7 on Wednesdays it's Martini's and free sushi, so when we got there they had patrons spilling out onto the street and I was glad we'd made reservations. Only everybody else was there for the aforementioned promotion and so only the bar was shoulder to shoulder, the dining room behind the string stranded water fixture was blissfully free.

It's a nice place, very well laid out with exception of one support post by the sushi bar in the main dining room. It's got a very nice vibe and Sporty kept commenting on how cool the whole place looked.

The service was swift and professional. I mean they unfolded our napkins and spread them on our laps, they made quiet suggestions when we hesitated, they brought out the hot towels before the meal so that we could clean our hands, the waiter made the simple syrup himself at the bar for my sweet tea, they were quiet, unobtrusive and dropped off and picked up things without being asked or making us feel rushed. The owner came over when we were done and checked on us. As far at service goes, this is one of the best in Atlanta. Kudos.

Oh yeah, the food.

Did I mention that they were swift, the food came quickly, the bathrooms were easy to find and the dining room laid out well?

The small plate crabmeat and mango spring roll was nice. Good mango. Crisp lettuce. Hmmmm.

Our server, man was he friendly. Great guy. And the bar cleared out as soon as they cut off the free sushi. Like whoosh. By the time we were ready to leave the bar area was a ghost town. So the promotion worked...kinda sorta.

Okay, fine. It was such a nice place too. Sporty had the Orange Chicken and I had the Korean Beef. Or the "Shaken Beef". It was hard to tell. It was just food. I mean there was little flavor...no zing. Nada. Maybe I caught the chef on a bad night. Cause the service was excellent!

Drink, appeitizer and dinner might have been thirty minutes. Seriously. They were quick..and since it wasn't that good we kinda picked over it. Sporty put some of her chicken on my plate, which used to be a sign I had to eat it, but even she was forgiving this time when I just looked at it. The rest of the time we just sat and talked. House stuff, family stuff, jokes and whatnot. Felt like old times. That was worth the bland food, that other forty five or so minutes we sat talking.

Then the owner showed up asking how it was...and for the first time in like ever, Sporty didn't speak up! I had to tell him the food was par average. She kept trying to be tactful. What was up with that?

So Steel is lovely, the service is par excellence...I mean like Seegar's good. The food is...well, don't go all starving like hungry.

A Quick Restaurant Review - Rose of India

It's a Monday night in Atlanta, so what do you want to do? Well Sporty claims she feels bad because we don't hang out as much as we used to and so she made it a point for us to hang out this week. She had a sport to go play (hence "sporty") but would be done around dark - don't you just love daylight savings time? - and we'd get together after that. We hadn't done Indian in a while, so I looked up spots in the area and found up on Peachtree the Rose of India.

Now, Sporty and I have been hanging out for a minute...more than a minute really. And we've eaten a lot of places. Occasionally, as we explored the cuisines that the city has the offer, we've found places that were having a slow spell. One place closed up as soon as we paid the bill. Another we thought was closed until we opened the door. And most of the Indian spots we've been to have been sparsely populated. But I don't think anyplace we've ever eaten was as empty as Rose of India on a Monday night. Us and the waitstaff. I could hear the kitchen staff playing backgammon. Us, the waitstaff and what sounded like a blend of Country and Indian music that was oddly calming.

But no matter, we came for the food and to enjoy each other's company. I'd read a good review or two, so we got the appetizers for two, she got the chicken vindaloos and me the beef buhuna. I always find Indian restaurants that serve beef a little funny. Common mis-perception. We tore into the Naan and sauces and settled in. You can say service was attentive, but when you think about it, he really didn't have anything else to do.

Sporty thought the vindaloos was good, but not hot enough (she loves the spicy). After the great reviews I was slightly disappointed that the flavor didn't zing me more as well. It was good, the appetizers and sauces especially, but not raving "you have got to eat there" good. They also had no sweet tea. Which always irks me.

After we'd eaten and paid the bill...it's not like folks were waiting for the table...we just hung out and talked about family, politics, how Indian places stay in business since they all appear empty and whatnot. She also took care not to mention him to me. Which makes me wonder, as we're supposed to be "friends", and with a "friend" you'd talk about things like that. We also made plans of what cuisines we still hadn't eaten - Korean(like where they don't even speak English), Ethiopian, and others.

Then she started doing something she doesn't do: reminisce.

As we left a car pulled up in the parking lot and for a second I just knew that these were other customers. Sporty didn't think so. It took all of ten seconds to prove Sporty was right. Awww. Quiet night for a nice spot, and that's sad. They were so nice.

Barkeep. That unsweet tea and bowl of sugar for me, mango juice for the lady.

What you pay for...

I eat out quite a bit. Not because I'm a lazy slob who likes to dine out - I love cooking, you just don't know - but because of an ongoing "issue" with my current living arrangements.

So I read a lot of online reviews, listen to folks talk about places, hear the stories and all in efforts to find interesting and exciting places to dine. And as such, I've realized that most people don't quite understand how dining out works, or how it's structured or really the whole point of going out. Let me go over a few basic rules and guidelines cause it's more difficult than you think, and I'm sure armed with a bit of knowledge you'll swiftly enhance your dining experience.

Level 1 - Fast food: What you're paying for here is throwaway rights. The food is not supposed to be especially well cooked, or even taste all that good. It's fast, it's cheap and you throw away everything when you're finished - the burger wrapper, the plastic fork, the ketchup packets. You're not paying for service either, so don't get snippy with the lady on fries.

Level 2 - Diner food: What you paid for is not a high quality meal, but the right to not have to clean up when you're finished. I find some of my best best meals in diners, so the quality can vary...a lot...but you're not paying for that. At the end of the meal, they come get the plate and you go home and sleep. That's what the money went for.

Level 3 - Chain food: Your national food chains are in business to make money...not make your dietary dreams come true. You're paying for a little flavor, a little taste, but it's on their terms. Don't expect their "Down Home Cajun cooked Chicken" to even come close to the real thing, or that Key Lime Pie to come from anyplace other than a box.

Level 4 - Upscale dining: You're coming out of pocket $75 -$125 for two at these places. You can expect not only good food but decent service. Don't expect them to do it like your mother did, but you can make an honest complaint here. Because this is the level where food is supposed to be good. This is the level most of us aspire to, and how most people think all restaurants should work.

Which is why we're having this discussion. Restaurants operate on the "you're hungry theory" of profit. It's how hungry you are that determines the restaurant you go to. I find it funny when I see folks upset at the food quality, when all they've really paid for is the right to go home full in 20 minutes. There is one other level, but then you're passed through hungry and gone out the other side.

Level 5 - Foodie: If you get to this level...I dined at the legendary Seegars in it's day, so I'm in...then the service is high, people are waiting with drinks, plates flash back and forth, damn you almost want them to leave so you can eat. The flavors are exotic, the cooking a little different and the whole vibe skewed. True you're coming out of pocket here in the hundreds plural, but what you're paying for again is not the food, it's the experience.

And if you go out to eat for the experience...then you weren't really that hungry.

Barkeep...a rosewater and lime martini with a scrooch of pomegranite. And a Bud back.