A volunteer-run organization, Open Hand Atlanta works to help people prevent or manage chronic diseases through balanced, nutritious diets. With the motto of, “It’s About More than a Meal,” this organization delivers restaurant-quality, preservative-free meals daily all over the Atlanta area. Each year, they work together with restaurants all throughout Atlanta to create Dining Out for Life, a fundraising event where people can dine at the participating restaurants of their choices for any (or all 3!) meals that day, with the knowledge that 25% or more of their bill will be donated by the restaurant to benefit Open Hand.

This year, Dining Out for Life took place on April 24, 2013 with 100 participating restaurants. Always happy for an excuse to eat at someplace new, I quickly browsed through the list of restaurants for a place to eat dinner. Given that finals were fast approaching, I remained mindful of the distance of the restaurant. I decided on 10th & Piedmont for both their interesting menu and close proximity.

Named for their location, the intersection of 10th street and Piedmont Avenue, 10th & Piedmont made parking, a common nightmare in Midtown, easy with their own, private lot. Inside, a host promptly greeted us and led us to a seat at the front of the restaurant. My friend and I marveled at the clearness of one of the large windows. As we got closer, we quickly realized that it was actually an opened window spanning the entirety of the wall.

Our friendly and welcoming waitress, Renesha, greeted us and informed us that the restaurant and lounge was renowned for their vodka, gesturing to the bar in the back and the shelves filled with vodka from all around the world. However, we wisely refrained from drinking since it was a school night and ordered two dishes and a dessert to share instead.

Our first dish, the So-Co Cured Salmon Roulade, came out within ten minutes of ordering. A generous portion for a “small plate,” the roulade consisted of  cured salmon rolled with whipped goat cheese and roasted red peppers. It was served on thin bagel chips and topped off with some fried capers and a lemon vinaigrette. I couldn’t really taste the roasted red peppers in the roulade due to the strong flavor of salmon. I also found the dish to be a bit too salty, because I think they sprinkled additional salt on the already-salty, cured salmon. I loved the little fried capers, which created little crispy pops of texture. Although a little more lemon would have brightened up the entire dish and larger bagel crisps may have helped negate the saltiness, I still enjoyed the salmon roulade. I would definitely recommend this rich dish to cured and smoked salmon lovers.

When our server, Renesha, brought out the Shrimp & Scallop Nachos, she also asked to confirm our order of the chocolate soufflé because it took about 17 minutes to bake. We eagerly asked her to put the order in and dug into the nachos. I really loved the nacho chips, which were sesame and chickpea chips. Sweet, salty, and smoky, I found them absolutely irresistible. The shrimp and scallops were juicy and sweet and the lime crème fraiche added a nice creaminess to the dish. Amidst all these strong flavors, the tomato-avocado salsa got a little lost. However, we both enjoyed the dish.

The shining star of our meal, the chocolate soufflé, came out proudly puffed and piping hot. Renesha poked a small hole in the top and poured in the sweet crème anglaise into the steaming center. We wasted no time at all digging into the dessert. Hot and molten at the center, the dessert rather reminded me of a chocolate lava cake. The “cake” parts were soft and fluffy whilst the crème anglaise mixed with the chocolate interior to create a creamy sauce. Although not a soufflé connoisseur by far, unless I’m mistaken, I think it may have been slightly undercooked. However, not overly sweet and packing an intense, chocolate flavor, it was the perfect ending to a nice dinner out. Best of all, 25% of our bill, roughly $8, would be donated to Open Hand by 10th & Piedmont.

Tasty food, excellent service, and a comfortable atmosphere, 10th & Piedmont will definitely be a place I’ll return to in the future. Maybe I’ll give their vodka a try next time.

10th & Piedmont
991 Piedmont Ave NE
Atlanta, GA 30309
(404) 602-5510

Sorry for the lack of posts for over a month. As my last semester of school wound down, I found myself at the complete and utter mercy of my own procrastination. I have finally dug myself out of the pit of papers and tests this weekend. What better way to celebrate than gather some friends together for a simple homey-meal made by yours truly? During my brief visit home last weekend during a medical school interview, I had discovered a very simple recipe for 三杯雞, or Three-Cup Basil Chicken, in a dusty book buried in our basement. Having only gleaned the relative proportions of the ingredients, I played around with it a bit and came up with my spin on it.

Basil adds both a touch of herbal sweetness and a wonderfully fragrant aroma to the entire dish. It brightens up the entire dish. Make sure to use plenty of it!

Soy sauce and rice wine make up a large component of the sauce. I used the Shao Hsing Rice Cooking Wine, but feel free to experiment with other types!

I absolutely love the dusty, spicy kick of white pepper. I almost always prefer it over black pepper. Season both sides of the chicken well with white pepper and salt. Ginger, garlic, and red peppers make up the aromatics of the dish. I regret only using two red peppers, for the ones I had were pretty mild in spice. I would use five next time.

After lightly browning the chicken, just pile them all in. Don’t worry – this recipe has enough sauce to cover all of the meat.

As the dish cooks, the chicken really soaks up a lot of that beautiful sauce.

Throw in the basil at the end. The minute those leaves hit the heat, an explosion of sweet and herbal aromas will fill your kitchen. One of my friends walked in right after I tossed in the basil and he could smell it from the doorway. My friends absolutely loved it. The sauce permeated the chicken, which fell easily off the bone. Sweet and fragrant, the simplicity of this recipe makes it perfect even for weekdays. Enjoy!

{三杯雞} Three-Cup Basil Chicken Recipe
Ingredients
3 large cloves of crushed garlic
2 dried red peppers (adjust to your taste – I would add more next time)
3 slices of ginger
4 whole chicken legs (separated into 4 drums and 4 thighs)
1 cup soy sauce
1 cup rice wine
1 cup white sugar (I used just a little bit less than 1 full cup)
1/4 cup sesame oil
3 cups basil

Directions
1. Separate the 4 chicken legs into 4 drums and 4 thighs. Season well with salt and white pepper, rub, and set aside.
2. Pour enough olive oil to cover the bottom of a large clay pot. With the stove on medium-high, toss in the ginger, garlic, and red pepper and saute to release the aromatics.
3. Brown the pieces of chicken on both sides in the pot. I had enough room to brown about four pieces at a time, so I simply pulled those out to brown the remaining pieces.
4. Put all of the chicken into the pot and add the soy sauce, rice wine, sugar, and sesame oil. Stir to combine. Cover and let cook at medium heat for 45 minutes, checking and stirring the pot at 20 minutes in.
5. After 45 minutes, toss in the basil and stir to incorporate. Cover and cook for 5 more minutes. Remove from heat and enjoy!

I remember when The Family Dog first took over the rather dismal, little Italian restaurant in the mini complex by Morningside. As I walked by it to buy some cookies from Alon’s, I thought to myself, cute name. I’ll try it sometime.  After class one night, I found myself craving the tasty, simple foods that taverns and pubs often offer. With a test just around the corner, I decided to go somewhere nearby and The Family Dog came to mind. I checked out their menu online and found my mouth watering at the “Cajun Mussels : Andouille, San Marzano Tomatoes, Crystal Hot Sauce, & Cream” offered on their Fat Tuesday menu. Realizing that it was, indeed, Tuesday, I immediately headed over with my friend in tow.

Ten minutes later, we walked into The Family Dog. Right away, the bar to the left drew my attention. Gleaming, polished, and very well stocked, it promised to fulfill any wild, alcohol-desires you may secretly, or not so secretly, harbor. No hostess stand, hostess, or even a worker, greeted us at the door. Being first timers, my friend and I stood uncertainly, waiting for someone to either lead us to a table or ask us to seat ourselves. Three minutes slunk by as I tried to catch the attention of two of the servers chatting with each other a short distance away from us. Finally fed up, I simply walked over to them and asked, “Do we just sit anywhere we want?” The guy looked up and said, “Yep.” Gee, thanks for telling us during the three minutes that we waited, literally, smack dab in front of you.

Things didn’t approve after we found a table. After sitting at a table for a few minutes and ignored, I simply got up and grabbed two menus. I tried to ignore the couple, a few tables down, who were handed menus seconds after sitting down. When our server appeared, she was so friendly that my irritation melted away under her smiles. I ordered the Cajun Mussels and A got the Po’ Boy of the day, the fried blue cod, which comes with a cup of gumbo and Zapp’s potato chips for just $10. We had sat right next to the large window of the kitchen and I was able to observe the cooks and food-runner. I’ve long become accustomed to restaurant workers giving me puzzled and/or amused looks as I snap pictures of my table’s foods and our surroundings. The food-runner here, however, shot me a withering glare that surprised me. I contrarily took a shot of the kitchen.

I saw the cook plate our food and set it on the window counter. We eagerly watched the food-runner check the ticket and bring the plates over. I readjusted my overflowing bowl of mussels in front of me and prepared to dive in – “Excuse me, let me check to see if this is yours.” The food-runner seized the bowl and took it back to the counter, leaving me speechless. If he had indeed given me another table’s mussels, he should have, instead, had the kitchen bang out another order right away, not bring the one I may have touched to the other table. During the minute he hmmed and haahed at the counter, I could only sadly watch the steaming mussels grow cold in his hands. Of course it really was my bowl and he came back to plunk down the now-cold mussels without so much as a “sorry.”

In the meantime, I snagged bites of A’s food to placate my stomach. I’ve never had a po’ boy before so I’m no expert on these iconic sandwiches of Louisiana. It was decent – who could turn down a piece of nicely-fried fish? The creamy remoulade paired wonderfully with the hot, crispy cod and toasty baguette. The small cup of sausage and chicken gumbo had large chunks of chicken and a small mound of rice. Although seasoned well, the gumbo lacked deep, complex flavors and simply didn’t pop.

When the food-runner ever-so-graciously plunked my now-cold mussels back down in front of me, spilling over the sauce in the process, I was too hungry and fed-up to care about his rudeness. The plating itself showed an extreme lack of consideration for the customer – how in the world am I supposed to dunk the mussels on top in the sauce in such a tiny, jam-packed bowl? I had to even ask for a separate plate for the empty shells. For a sauce made with hot sauce, it lacked the bold, fiery “Cajun” spice I had looked forward to. The mussels themselves were slightly gritty with sand. After finishing the two measly slices of toast that came with the dish, I asked for a little more for the sauce. My friendly server, who had been missing for the past twenty-five minutes, brought me another five slices. It wasn’t until we got our check that I realized that they had charged me two bucks for the extra toast. Really? I have ordered steamed mussels at five other restaurants in Atlanta and they had all given me a generous hunk of fresher, tastier bread at the start and when I’d asked for more, not a single place had charged me for it. For two bucks, I could almost buy a whole loaf of bread at the supermarket.

My irritation has sky-rocketed just remembering the experience. Average food and plain-old terrible service – sorry, but I won’t go back even if you paid me.

The Family Dog
1402 North Highland Avenue
Atlanta, GA 30306
(404) 249-0180

My friend and I decided to eat lunch somewhere in the H-Mart complex located on Pleasant Hill Road this weekend. As we pulled in, we noticed a new addition to the mini complex that lies between the busy street and the ginormous brown buildings that housed H-Mart, Korean bakeries, restaurants, karaoke, and stores. We parked in the middle of the parking lot and glanced at the familiar offerings of the complex. But something about clear skies and crisp air inspires adventurousness and recklessness, and we spontaneously decided, well, what the heck, let’s give the new place a try.

I forgot to snap a picture of one of the posters. I found this one, taken by Addy C., on Yelp.

Approaching the restaurant, I noticed a couple posters plastered on the store-front window and on the white walls within. Upon closer inspection, they contained glowing accolades about the chef, Jong Won Paik, who’s apparently a celebrity chef in Korea. With impressive statistics, including owning several successful restaurants throughout South Korea, Chef Paik appeared be a highly qualified chef. Operating a simple Korean noodle joint in the midst of a bustling, predominantly Korean part of Atlanta should be a breeze. Right?

Opening the door, I immediately became drawn to the interior of the restaurant. Sunlight streamed in through several large windows, creating a bright and cheery dining environment. Red table tops popped against a background of sparkling clean white ceilings, floors, and tables. Paik’s Noodle really showcases the kitchen with a window that spans its entire length. Amusingly, the sun was so bright that the reflections on the kitchen windows made it impossible to clearly observe the chefs (defeating the purpose of having an open kitchen in the first place). However, I’m sure that it’s not an issue during dinner service.

You order up at the counter next to the kitchen. To your left, you’ll see a giant menu displaying a grand total of six dishes and soda/water. I must say, Paik’s Noodle offers one of the smallest menus I’ve ordered from, yet. Such a tight menu allows no room for error and I expected each of the six dishes to be, to put it shortly, absolutely perfect. Although they had opened up a month ago, they still had their “Grand Opening Special Price” for a couple of the dishes. All the better for us! My friend ordered the jjamppong and I ordered the jajyangmeon. Our dishes came out quickly – I’d say within 10 minutes of ordering. The guy at the cash register called our order numbers and we picked up our steaming bowls of noodles, grabbed our chopsticks at the “concession counter,” and dug in.

The jjamppong, described as “Korean noodles with seafood, pork, and vegetables in a spicy broth” on the menu, contained plenty of chopped carrots, onions, and cabbages. I found the broth to have a pretty good spice level, but it bordered on almost-too-spicy for my friend. Both of us really liked the texture of the noodles. They were thick and had a pleasant bite to them – I would almost describe them as bouncy. Unfortunately, the dish had a couple of issues. The only seafood in it was squid; sad, lonely pieces of squid without even a single shrimp for a companion. If you describe a dish as containing “seafood,” people will expect at least two different types of seafood. If there’s only squid and pork in the dish, it should be described as containing “squid and pork.” Another issue was the amount of MSG in the broth. My friend does not deal well with too much MSG. To give you an idea, dimsum gives him a slight headache. After lunch today, all he wanted to do was sleep for the rest of the afternoon. Those of you with MSG sensitivity, be careful eating here!

The jajangmyeon is a noodle dish served with black bean sauce. I’ve become very wary about trying this dish, particularly the Korean ones. All of the ones I’ve had so far in Atlanta tasted extremely oily and bland (as in containing basically no salt). To my surprise and joy, Paik’s rendition actually tasted like something! Whether or not this is attributed to the MSG, I do not know. However, I would have liked more noodles and sliced cucumbers, because the dish had too much sauce. Despite this, the jajangmyeon still felt like it missed something. But maybe this is exactly how Korean jajangmyeon is supposed to taste and I’m just ignorant of Korean cuisine. Or maybe I’m just too accustomed to the delicious, wonderfully savory and meaty sauces of the ones my grandmother makes and the ones I’ve eaten in Taiwan. Who knows?

Paik’s Noodle pumps out steaming hot food at an impressive speed, making it an ideal lunch spot for workers with short lunch breaks and high MSG tolerance levels. I have never tried Korean noodle dishes before, so I can’t comment on the authenticity of the dishes here. That being said, if I were in the area and in the right mood, I might stop in again for a quick lunch. Then again, maybe not, for the surrounding area abounds in tasty Korean establishments.

Paik’s Noodle
2570 Pleasant Hill Rd
Ste 107
Duluth, GA 30096
(678) 417-1131

Going to a college located halfway across the country eliminates worries of demands to return home every weekend, of surprise visits from parents every other weekend, and of giving (sometimes fabricated) excuses of being bogged down with homework and tests. However, it does cause the occasional wave of homesickness to wash over me, whether it be in the form of craving my grandmother’s soup when I’m ill, or of needing to hear my mother’s firm, practical logic when I’m overwhelmed by a particularly nasty obstacle life had just hurled at me. Despite this, a funny phenomena happens each time I’m about to go home for a break. As it draws nearer, I find myself not wanting to return home, where overprotective parents slather on rules and “talks” as thickly as the peanut butter I put on celery for a “healthy” snack. When I grudgingly step off the airplane, however, my reluctance and worries promptly evaporate, not leaving a single drop behind. Instead, the presence of the people I love and who love me reaches out to encircle me, providing a temporary haven from the outside world. By the time break ends, I dread breaking away from this bubble of warmth and love and the inevitable return of the worries and frantic pace of college life. But break away I must.

This winter break, I came back to Atlanta early to work. Back in my apartment and anxiously awaiting to hear back from medical schools, I found myself wishing for a taste of home. Immediately, my grandma’s ox-tail soup came to mind. I promptly drove to an Asian supermarket and called her for the recipe. Happily surprised, my 奶奶 (grandmother) led me through the steps to recreate the soup. Comforting and light, it simmers away for hours to develop deep, complex flavors without being heavy. Tomatoes and onions lend a hint of sweetness while ginger gives a teeny kick in the background. Bites of tender chunks of beef and rich, creamy potatoes - this is my “chicken noodle soup.” 

Completely cover the oxtails in water and bring it up to a boil. A layer of grayish-brown foam (denatured sarcoplasmic proteins dissolved in water) will form at the top. By boiling the oxtails before adding them to the soup, you don’t have to worry about trying to skim released proteins from the entire pot of soup.

In cooking, baking, science labs, and any other task that involves a procedure of sorts, it’s always best to finish mise en place before beginning. French and literally translated as “to put in place,” it’s a culinary term for having all of your ingredients prepped and ready to go. Trust me, it will make your life so much easier. You don’t want to be sautéing some garlic, see on the recipe “add onions,” and suddenly realize, oh no, I haven’t chopped the onions yet!

Speaking of onions, this soup calls for one roughly sliced onion. My roommate has a rather bizarre, but strong, aversion to onions, green onions, and ginger, the foundations of Asian (and many other cultures’) cuisines. This soup calls for two of the items on her absolute-no-no list of three, but thankfully, she hadn’t come back from break yet. Phew.

Like many of you, I’m sure, I find it’s so difficult, sometimes, to be able to spend an hour or two in the kitchen to put together a meal. Thus, I love recipes where you can simply let the dish simmer away for hours, like this soup. Just let it do its own thing for a bit (of course, if it’s on the stove and not in a slow-cooker, stick around so you’ll still have a house to eat dinner in and not a pile of ashes). When you come back, you’ll have a soulful, hearty dish ready to be devoured.

Shh. Don’t tell my grandma, but I added my own little spin on her recipe. I couldn’t resist adding a splash (or two, or three ) of sake to the soup. I find that sake adds a wonderful flavor to dishes. It’s hard to describe, but it imparts a subtle sweetness. The sake is completely optional – if you’re feeling adventurous, try it out. If not, don’t worry about it! The soup tastes just as delicious without it.

Cover the pot and let the soup do its magic. The results will be a lovely soup packed full of nutrients and flavor. Serve as is for a light meal or for a hearty finish to a meal, or serve over rice. I hope you enjoy it!

{奶奶的牛尾湯} Grandma’s Oxtail Soup Recipe
Ingredients
1-2 lbs of oxtails
1 large onion, roughly sliced
5 roma tomatoes, cut into large chunks
5 red-skinned potatoes, cut into large chunks
1 stalk of celery, roughly chopped
5-8 slices of ginger
Sake (optional)

Directions
1. In a separate pot, completely cover the oxtails with water and bring to a boil. Let it boil for a couple of minutes and take it off the heat. Rinse the oxtails under cold water to wash off the layer of foam and set aside.
2. Sauté the sliced onions with a little bit of olive oil in a pot. Once translucent, add the ginger and celery. Sauté together for another minute or two.
3. Add the tomatoes, potatoes, and oxtails. Add a couple splashes of sake (optional!) and fill up the pot with water.
4. Bring the soup to a boil and turn the heat down to low. Cover and let simmer until the oxtails are tender, most likely three to four hours. Salt to taste and enjoy.

Two years ago, I visited the Iberian Pig for my first and last time, until today. Don’t get me wrong – I had a wonderful experience. However, the relatively high prices and lack of transportation, for I had yet to drive my car down from Wisconsin, prevented my return until this year: oh, the perks of having two jobs and a car.

On my previous visit, I had sat in the deep recesses of the rather dark restaurant. Needless to say, my pictures featured either dark blobs in shadows or garishly bright dishes from my camera’s flash. This time, having made a reservation, my friend and I were seated promptly by a window near the front. The Christmas lights strung around Decatur Square outside made picture taking so much easier.

We wanted a light dinner and simply decided to share a couple of tapas and a dessert. The Iberian Pig’s rather extensive tapas menu required some patience and guidance to peruse. Our server had extensive knowledge of the menu and gave us great suggestions. She answered questions ranging from flavors and ingredients to portion size. In the end, we decided to share an order of Albondigas and Morcilla & Mushroom Toast. When we placed our order, our server told us of one of their specials of the night: Lamb Albondigas. Since we could always return to try the wild boar albondigas, we decided to give the lamb ones a try.

At almost 7:00pm, a pleasant hum of conversation filled the restaurant without being overwhelmingly loud. Illuminated by strings of Christmas lights outside and soft golden lights inside, the Iberian Pig had a soft, romantic ambiance. Rich aromas of cheeses and wines drifted over from nearby tables and my stomach rumbled in response. Thankfully, the Morcilla & Mushroom Toast arrived about 15 minutes after we ordered.

A stunning dish, the Morcilla & Mushroom Toast supported an impressive amount of various mushrooms. Thankfully, the rather large toast had already been cut in half for us. A couple mushrooms tumbled off, but I managed to maneuver my slice to my plate with most of its toppings still in place. Upon first glance, I had completely forgotten the presence of the Morcilla sausage within the hill of mushrooms. My first bite promptly brought the sausage back into mind, for the bits of crunchy, salty sausage complimented the sweet gastrique wonderfully. Despite their abundance, the mushrooms were sadly lost in terms of flavor. They had a wonderful texture, but none of their usual earthy flavor, something I sorely missed in the dish. After a minute, the toast also became rather soggy. The dish would be better served as little crostinis, for it would be much easier to eat. The large slice of toast not only proved difficult to cut, but also difficult to take a bite out of. Somehow, despite all this, it was still a pretty tasty dish. With a couple of adjustments, it could be amazing.

The Lamb Albondigas arrived a minute after the toast. Small balls of goat cheese added a wonderful richness to the dish. The basque sauce, made of yellow and red peppers, onions, and tomatoes, tasted a little too sweet. If the dish had some red pepper flakes or some sort of spiciness, it would have paired perfectly with the sweet sauce. However, the juiciness and tenderness of the lamb meatballs won me over. I hope the regular wild boar albondigas taste just as good, because I plan on coming back to try them.

We finished up our meal with an order of churros, which came out delightfully hot and fresh. Cinnamon and sugar clung to every ridge and crack of the fried dough. As we ate, I found myself in quite a dilemma – I couldn’t decide whether I preferred the churros solo or dunked in hot, rich chocolate. Infused with cinnamon-chili, the sauce changed the sugary hot churros from a playful, carnival treat to a rich, intense dessert. I only wished the churros were slightly thicker, because after a bite or two, the churros began to come apart. I also wanted them to be thicker so that there would be a bit of softness within the nice, crunchy exterior. All in all, the churros were wonderful finish to a tasty meal.

After this lovely experience, with my car, two jobs, and close proximity to The Iberian Pig, I have run out of reasons to not return to this gem in Decatur. Next time, Wild Boar Albondigas will definitely be on my order.

The Iberian Pig
121 Sycamore Street
Decatur, GA 30030
(404) 371-8800

Here’s an excerpt:

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Click here to see the complete report.

About two months ago, as my friend and I drove back home from Emory, he suddenly pointed at Kitsch’n and exclaimed, “Hey! Did they close? Why’s the building so dark?” I figured that it since was already 10PM, the restaurant had probably closed for the night. Mollified, my friend didn’t bring it up again. However, one Monday night around 7PM, I passed the restaurant as I headed home for dinner. I glanced over and was shocked to see the building dark, the parking lot abandoned. Had Kitsch’n quietly closed their doors when I wasn’t looking?

Concerned for the bright, cheery diner and its warm, friendly owners, I quickly pulled up their website at home. To my relief, smack dab on their page in bold letters were “Our new hours of operation will be Monday-Friday 8 a.m. – 3 p.m. and Saturday 11 a.m. – 3 p.m.” It turns out that the folks at Kitsch’n had decided to undertake breakfast, switching over to lunch at 10:59 on the dot. Curiosity quickly obliterated my relief as I skimmed over their breakfast menu: Big Brother’s Breakfast Biscuit, Breakfast Burger, Monkey’s Uncle…alright, that’s enough – we’re going this weekend.

Saturday morning found my friends and I smashing our snooze buttons, staring groggily at the 10:35 on our clocks, and jolting out of our beds. At 10:45AM, L, A, K, and I rushed over to the diner to try and make their 10:59 deadline. We burst in at 10:50. The young lady at the counter smiled and informed us that we had 9 minutes to make up our minds. With four of us, you’d think we would have been able to sample over half of the breakfast menu – nope. All three of them ordered the Breakfast Burger while I ordered the Monkey’s Uncle.

The four of us stared googley-eyed at the burgers that floated out from the kitchen. An impressive pile of ooey, goeey Colby-Jack cheese oozed from its golden buns, almost completely concealing the patty and fried egg. I quickly stole a bite from one of them. Like their lunch counterparts, the Breakfast Burger was surprisingly bland – a (large) hit of salt would really have brought it to another level. The Colby-Jack cheese, a relatively mild cheese, mostly just contributed to the burger’s greasiness. A more pronounced and salty cheese would have brought more depth and dimension to the rather “blah” burger. My hopes of a beautifully runny yolk were quickly popped when I bit into the well-done egg. Sadly, the buns, the same, sweet golden ones from before, were my favorite part of the entire burger.

I had actually misread the description of the Monkey’s Uncle and had thought that it was going to be cinnamon raisin french toast stuffed with bananas and peanut butter. When the cheerful owner brought it out, I thought that it was the weirdest, most lightly battered french toast I’d ever seen. I looked at the menu again and saw that it was “grilled on cinnamon raisin bread.” Ah. That explained the lack of syrup and fork.

Globs of hot peanut butter oozed out as I watched. I opted not to use the knife they provided and ate it with my hands. Crunchy bread, large chunks of warm, but not mushy, bananas, melted peanut butter mixed with a bit of honey – if I were a monkey and this sandwich was my uncle, I’d eat him in a heartbeat. Sorry, Uncle, but you are a simply delicious, simple sandwich and irresistible to this peanut butter-loving girl.

The service was just as friendly as my last visit here and the food came out fast and hot. The Breakfast Burger, however, was disappointingly bland and far from spectacular. The lack of hash browns or potatoes meant that those with larger appetites, like all three of my friends, probably wouldn’t leave satisfied. I enjoyed the Monkey’s Uncle, but it could be easily replicated at home. I would like to return during breakfast hours to try the Big Brother’s Breakfast Biscuit, but taking into account that L,A, and K all walked out still feeling rather hungry, Kitsch’n probably won’t become our new breakfast place. Sorry, Kitsch’n, but I will continue to satisfy my weekend morning burger cravings with Holeman & Finch on Sundays.

Kitsch’n 155
1788 Clairmont Road
Decatur, GA 30033
(678) 973-0606

OK, so I was a little slow getting onto the Antico Pizza bandwagon. This pizzeria caught my attention shortly after its opening. Fountains of praise gushed forth, from Atlanta journals and Yelpers to my ever-critical fellow Emory blogger,  The Toothfish. Despite the onslaught of glowing reviews, I hesitated – $18-$21 for a pizza whose toppings aren’t exactly overflowing? I don’t know…My taste-buds and wallet waged a silent war. Three years later, my taste-buds won. I went with my A and L the night our classes ended, for one should never go into battle, let alone finals, on an empty stomach.

I pulled up the map and of course, it’s right next to Georgia Tech, just like countless other great places (Sublime Doughnuts, anyone?). Why is everything tasty there? When we arrived, I saw a fairly large communal table and two window-bars. How in the world could such a busy place get by with so little seating? Confused, I thought that perhaps that was the “Dough Room” I’d read about. I’d always imagined it to be, well, bigger.

We went up to the counter and looked over the menu.The two young women behind the register completely ignored us and kept chatting amongst themselves- no greeting, no smile, no sign that they had noticed our presence. After much debate, we decided to just order one pizza, the San Gennaro – two would require digging too deeply into our college-student-wallets. We could always come back some other time to try the other pizzas. Having made up our minds, I turned to the still-chatting workers, who ignored me. After an awkward moment, I coughed loudly. One of them turned towards me. “Yes?” I had planned on asking them about the desserts in the cooler, but was irritated enough to not bother. I placed our order and the three of us wandered into the room with the communal table. It took only one glance to spot the fluorescent light radiating from a doorway to the left of the table – could it be? Feeling like an intruder, I peeked in – it was. I had found The Dough Room.

The Dough Room: bright fluorescent lights, booming music, and happy people feasting on pizza and wine; three, large, beautiful pizza ovens blazing in the background; kitchen staff tossing out pizzas and sprinkling fresh toppings with admirable efficiency and ease. I took in my surroundings for a moment, recovering from the drastic change in setting. We sat down at an empty space on one of the long picnic tables and before I had even taken off my jacket, a woman whisked over, set down our pizza, and disappeared. We looked down at the pizza, surprised by its speedy delivery, but not by its unimpressive size.

I whipped out my camera and snapped photos for a whole 15 seconds. “OK, done, let’s eat.” L and A, rather amused by it being my shortest photo shoot ever, didn’t need a second invitation. It was love at first bite. The pizza had the perfect amount of a beautiful tomato sauce. The dough was mindbogglingly flavorful. Domino’s flavors their crust with garlic parmesan powder, Papa John’s with an optional garlic butter sauce (which is so bad, but so good) – Antico Pizza’s crust’s flavor started with its dough and ended with just a bit of char from those blazing, 900 degree ovens. The ends of the crust were pillows of charred goodness. Spotted with wonderful gooey gobs of mozzarella cheese and large, juicy hunks of salsiccia, or sausage, the pizza tasted fantastic. And then I got a bite with some sweet red pepper – oh my goodness. Those peppers were succulent, sweet, and had a perfect kick of spice. I could eat an entire pizza topped with just those peppers. The three of us polished the pie off in record timing and afterwards, really, really wished we had gotten the Margherita, too. Instead, to spare their wallets, L and A finished filling their stomachs with the nearby Burger King.

Antico Napoletana Pizza dishes out tasty, authentic Napoletani pies to Atlanta, according to others. I have never gone to Italy before, let alone eaten their pizzas, and thus cannot confirm that claim. However, I can tell you that these pizzas are seriously delicious and worth the money. Fortunately, the high price, attributed to the fresh, Italy-imported ingredients, keeps my desire to come here weekly in check. However, I think my wallet can handle my coming here once every two-three weeks, though. Fast, hot, delicious, and fresh – if you haven’t visited this pizzeria yet, stop waiting for an invitation. Drive over, order one, eat it, relish it – you’ll thank me.

Antico Pizza Napoletana
1093 Hemphill Ave
Atlanta, GA 30318
(404) 873-3799

If you ask me about Taiwan, I will be able to spout about its foods for hours, and not be able to dredge up any specifics about its history or politics, besides some common knowledge. Ever since I can remember, my mother would bring me back to Taiwan each summer and there, I experienced the most mouthwatering, and cheapest, foods imaginable. With the guidance of my cousins, aunts, and friends, I navigated through the menus and signs of which I can only read about 75% and brushed the heart of Taiwanese cuisine.

Back in America, I miss the food almost as much as I miss my relatives. When I came to Atlanta for college, I threw myself happily into the sea of Asian cuisine – Chinese (Sichuan, dim sum, northern dishes…), Korean, Vietnamese, and Filipino. Millions of bubble tea shops litter the city, some reminiscent of the ones I drink in Taiwan, others, not so much. However, try as I might, I could not find the Taiwanese street food I held so dear to my heart. I must clarify, though, that as much as I love Taiwanese cuisine, I have only brushed its surface thus far – I am far from an expert on it.

My friend, A, a native Atlantian, brought me to Bento Cafe near the end of my first year in Atlanta. I absolutely loved it – however, the overpowering smell of sewage floating into the dining room from the bathroom finally convinced me not to return after giving the place another three tries (I have returned this year and was happy to find the stench gone!).

I didn’t hear about Kan Pai until early this fall. I checked out their menu online and they had me at the first oyster omelette. That night, I went over with A and my friend, L. I knew that restaurants are slower on weekday dinners, but I did not expect to find only two other parties. Wary about the emptiness of the restaurant, I set about ordering multiple dishes to share between us, for neither A nor L had really experienced Taiwanese street food.

We first tried the fried oyster mushrooms. Think of salt pepper squid, but mushroom form. Well-seasoned and hot, the fried mushrooms were pretty decent. However, the batter could have been a little lighter and crispier. Not the favorite of the night, but pretty tasty.

I’ve never eaten beef wraps in Taiwan before but wanted to give it a try. A pancake, similar to a scallion pancake, had a thin layer of sweet, salty, and a little tangy sauce smothered on it. Cilantro, sliced green onion, and shredded beef were then scattered on and the entire pancake was rolled up and sliced. The filling was the perfect amount – not so little that you felt cheated, but not so generous that everything falls out with your slightest movement. I enjoyed the dish. A and L ranked it a among their top three of the night.

Pig’s blood cakes – something else I had never tried before. I didn’t tell the guys what they were – just to try it. I told them after their first bites. The pig’s blood cakes appear to be sticky (glutinous) rice mixed with pig’s blood. They sprinkled the tops with crushed peanuts and garnished it with some cilantro. The cakes were chewy and the peanuts lent both a nice crunch and nuttiness to the dish. All three of us found it to be a decent dish, although not the best.

The lamb skewers had a nice, charred flavor to it. The seasoning was good and the sauce, tasty. However, I found the meat to be somewhat tough. Had they been tender, luscious chunks of lamb, I would have given to almost-top marks. No one likes chewy, tough meat, though. Thus, the lamb skewers were not a hit.

The fried pork chop bowl would make an extremely satisfying, well-priced lunch. The pork chop was seasoned well and, thankfully, not dry. Like the fried mushrooms, though, it could have been crispier. The little meat sauce on top of the rice could have used a little more salt. I appreciated the side of greens, for I’m not very good with eating my daily vegetables. I must say, however, I do like Bento Cafe’s fried pork chop better – it’s seasoning is a little more pronounced and it’s also more juicy, in the this-can-not-be-healthy-for-me type of way. However, Kan Pai’s fried pork chop bowl is not bad at all.

I know that the “Little Sausage in the Big Sausage,” literally, holds a special place in Taiwanese street cuisine. However, I have not tried it before and thus, have nothing to judge this one against. It consists of a sticky rice sausage, split in half, and filled with a hot dog. It was served drizzled with a salty, sweet sauce and crushed peanuts. I think that this dish really had the potential to be spectacular. However, the hot dog appeared to be one bought from a supermarket and the sticky rice sausage was a little bit too hard. I think the hot dogs used in Taiwan are probably prepared fresh by the vendors, and the sticky rice sausage would probably have the right chewy, sticky consistency. I probably wouldn’t order this here again until I’m back in Taiwan – not because it was bad, but because it was rather disappointing.

I had to order the beef noodle soup. Comforting and hearty, it brings back memories of my grandmothers and Taiwan. I really, really liked the beef noodle soup broth at Kan Pai. I’ve tried this dish at a few other places around Atlanta, and this broth may be my favorite so far. However, there were only three large chunks of beef, all of which were even tougher than the lamb skewers. I associate beef noodle soup with tender, falling apart beef with melt-in-your-mouth tendons. The ones in this soup were akin to gum, albeit a gum whose stringy strands get caught into your teeth. The noodles were pretty standard noodles. I did appreciate the generous amount of chopped pickled mustard greens, though. This dish could have been really great, but the meat dragged it down.

I saved the three dishes I was most excited for last – the Taiwanese meatball, oyster omelette, and oyster vermicelli. A lot of Taiwanese foods have a chewy, bouncy texture termed “QQ,” and these two signature dishes really exemplify it. Kan Pai’s versions were close enough to satisfy my cravings for these dishes in the United States, but were also a far cry from the ones I’ve had in Taiwan.

The meatball’s outsides were nice and chewy. It was stuffed with a pork and Shiitake mushroom mixture. It had two sauces on top – one rather salty, the other a sweet tangy one. L and A absolutely loved this dish – it was their favorite of the night. I, however, found the entire meatball, (wrap, filling, sauce and all), to be just all right. It’s just not the same, but I will settle for it here in the U.S.

I had similar feelings about the oyster omelette. The omelette could have been more “chewy” and its sauce, the same sweet tangy one on the meatball, just wasn’t the same. It had a decent amount of oysters and greens. However, the greens were rather too wilty and insubstantial – I wanted more crunch. Like the meatball, I am happy enough to eat the oyster omelette.

Out of the three dishes I was most excited for, this one let me down the most. The oyster vermicelli, surprisingly, did not have enough oyster flavor. The dish was also not as thick and rich as the ones found in Taiwan. It also had too much soup and too little noodles. If you wanted an oyster vermicelli soup dish, this would have sufficed. However, I was looking for the thick, oyster-ey, dangerously hot,  “uh-ah mi swa” of Taiwan. This just didn’t cut it. However, the previous two dishes were enough to satisfy my cravings for the foods in Taiwan.

Kan Pai offers a really good introduction of sorts to Taiwanese cuisine. The prices are decent and the food, pretty tasty. Although the dishes don’t taste quite the same, they’re enough to help fill that void while you’re in Atlanta. I am still on the hunt for more Taiwanese restaurants, but if you have never experienced Taiwanese street food, give Kan Pai a try.

Kan Pai Cafe
3466 Holcomb Bridge Road
Norcross, GA 30092
(770) 840-8999