Pan-fried skate wing with tomato and capers
Where to have dinner was a big decision when we hosted our foodie friends who are used to the best in New York. I had to be especially careful with my restaurant pick considering that I have trumpeted how we have not missed the Manhattan dinning scene since moving to Atlanta. Ok, I confess that I still fly up to the big apple occasionally to try the dozens of new restaurants that opened since my departure and to revisit some old favorites, but overall, we have been very content with our vibrant dinning venues here and wanted to showcase the finest of them to our friends.
After much deliberation, I settled on Restaurant Eugene. What an amazing choice! Everything from the cozy interior to our Turley old vine Zinfandel to the enormous hamachi appetizer to the crab tower and the skate wing and finally, to the dessert was perfect. If I had to pick one fault, it would have to be the Saturday dinning crowd. It appeared that we were the only table in the entire restaurant under thirty and most diners looked about our parents’ age. I suppose it can’t be helped due the restaurant’s Buckhead location and higher prices. It doesn’t bother me since I am rather oblivious to such considerations when in the presence of good food and drinks. However, our friends picked up the stuffier vibe quickly upon entering the restaurant. It didn’t turn out to be a big deal as I am all about bringing my own atmosphere to my table. After all, nothing can get in the way of sharing a great meal among the best of friends, especially when the wine never stopped flowing.
Sweetbread with creamed corn
Chocolate torte with bing cherries and vanilla ice cream
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
I try to stay away from the commercial stuff with ingredients that I can't pronounce as much as possible. But a girl's gotta have a few guilty pleasures. Ketchup is definitely one for me. Since I wasn't fed this stuff growing up, it's most certainly an acquired addiction. I can still remember the first time trying it in my school cafeteria at the ripe old age of 12. I gagged and decided that Americans are stupid for liking such gross condiment on their very bland and soggy fried potato (they were supposed to be fries). I guess my tastes have Americanize since then. Now I crave this stuff in my cocktail sauce, on my eggs, and yes, atop my very homemade spinach quiche. I suppose this reduces my status as a proper foodie in the eyes of many. Or maybe all of you out there also have very unfoodie-like additions that you secretly indulge behind closed doors. For now, I am relieved in my exposure.