On a Date with Myself

What began as a routine delivery of some Mary Kay products turned into a lunch worth writing about.

I met my aunt briefly at a new outdoor shop-stravaganza in Alpharetta, Georgia, called Avalon. It's one of those swanky places where families and young professionals with a lot of money can live above West Elm, J. Crew, BCBG or an incredibly righteous restaurant. Like Atlantic Station, sort of, but newer and with more modern architecture.

Since the delivery was at 10:30 a.m., and I had a grand total of nothing to do for the next 12 hours, I decided to stick around and take myself on a shopping date. That took about an hour, and then I realized I was getting hungry.

Did I have food at the house? Yes.

Was it the same stuff to make a sandwich like I had for every other weekend lunch when I was trying to conserve food money? Yes.

Did I really want another turkey sandwich? ... Negative, ghostrider.

Thanks for this image, Dr. Google.

I turned on my heels to find The El Felix, which I had passed on my first trip around the shops. It sounded Mexican and had a cool, kind of creepy early 1900s Halloween cat logo mascot on its to-go cups. I could go for some tacos.

Clearly, this was divine intervention: I wasn't intending on eating out. I wasn't intending on a nice meal if I did eat out. But the weather was beautiful -- perfect for sitting outside. I was by myself, perfect for taking myself on a Mexican food date because Justin is "eh" on Mexican food and I am like "LET ME SEE YOU GUAC, GUAC, GUAC" on the reg. And I had gotten paid the week before.

So that's how I found myself on the patio of The El Felix, ordering a margarita and being delighted by the cute containers that my salsas were brought out in. I had no idea what I was getting, had no forethought about "I want to go to this restaurant, order this food, drink this alcohol and go home and write about it." Hell, y'all, for once in my life my Nikon wasn't in my purse. Sorry for the really poor photo quality. But then I dipped a thin, crisp tortilla chip in the green tomatillo salsa and my life changed forever.

I will willingly drive 30 minutes up Georgia 400 for this mouthwatering tomatillo salsa. Just ... whoa.

My first impression of The El Felix: a salsa verda para morirse.
That means "green salsa to die for."

A bit of background. Tomatillo salsa is my favorite kind of salsa to begin with. Tomatillos are most commonly seen as green tomato-looking things with a husk. However, they're not tomatoes, but a distinct species of the nightshade family, along with eggplants, potatoes, petunias and tomatoes. Tomatillos are known by the Latin name Physalis philadelphica and tomatoes by Solanum lycopersicum. See? Totes different genus and species. So, tomatillos are a little tangier than tomatoes. They kind of remind me taste-wise of a fried green tomato, and are best mixed with herbs, peppers and adobo (we are big fans of adobo in my household). That green salsa you can get at Barberito's, for example, is a tomatillo salsa. It's really easy to screw up, namely if whoever makes that day's batch doesn't add enough salt or uses more salt than cilantro. Gross.

This tomatillo salsa was a gift handed down from Mother Nature to Felix's chefs Ford Fry and Kevin Maxey. Y'all, I've never had a salsa like it. It's as if the best-made tomatillo salsa and the creamiest, smoothest fresh guacamole had a mad, tequila-induced lovefest and produced a sauce that is the perfect genetic mix of both. I actually turned the waiter away the first time he came to take my order because I was too into the chips to bother to look at the menu. Oops.

When I did take a peek at the restaurant's offerings, I noticed a salsa advertised as "avocado salsa verde," Ah, assuming that these are both the same thing, that makes total sense. The avocado added to the tomatillo salsa, mild, fresh and with just a hint of heat, is what gave it the thick, creamy texture that made it so irresistible!

I also had trouble deciding between tacos al pastor (note to self: take a day on The Meatetarian and explore delectable taco fillings) and something called "Campechana de Marisco." I'd never heard of "campechana" before, but "de marisco" means "of seafood," and it was pretty hard to turn down the ingredient listing.

Campechana de Marisco, otherwise known as a "seafood
sundae." Served in a parfait glass with spoon and tostadas.

About 10 minutes (and a basket of chips and bowl of that salsa) later, I was presented with what can only be described as a seafood sundae. The retro parfait glass was heaped to the gills with seafood, chopped veggies and a delicate-handled spoon to eat it all with. This was a $17 seafood dish well worth the "usually I don't spend $17 on a lunch" splurge.

No lie, there were nearly a dozen melt-in-your-mouth shrimp, a couple of generous tablespoons of lump crab meat and tender octopus all tucked in the glass. What little room in the serving ware that was left had been doused in a spicy tomato mixture. There were slightly greasy fresh tostadas around the bottom of the glass, present to hold spoonfuls of campechana. When bitten into, they proved light and airy and gave a satisfying crunch to the light and chewy textures of the seafood and diced veggies.

I kept trying to tell myself, "This is your last bite! Then you can take the rest home and share it with Justin!"

Except that I kept eating and the next thing I knew, both my unforgettable salsa and seafood sundae were gone with the wind. But here's a great thing about this meal: everything was fresh and nothing was heavy! It was filling and satiating and I left wanting more, but I didn't feel like I had a small burrito baby growing inside me.

Now that's what I call a successful date.

The Meatetarian Has a Carnivorgasm

No ... get y'alls minds out of the gutter, people! Not that kind. The Carnivorgasm is a burger, you silly geese!

And it's quite possibly an entire foot tall.

The Carnivorgasm, as should surprise exactly zero people who follow hamburger lore and famous burgers around the country, is a menu staple at Atlanta's own The Vortex Bar and Grill, located in the heart of Little Five Points. There's a Midtown location too, but let's be honest, who the Hell wants to fight for parking in Midtown?

This venture was my first into the Vortex, despite living here for nearly two years. I know, right? What have I been doing with my life? However, I first heard of the Vortex many years ago, watching one of those extreme food shows on Travel Channel. Vortex is best known, aside from being a cool bar with a menu that gives exactly zero effs (it says so) about douchebaggery and foodies and kale and one-star Yelp reviews, for its Coronary Bypass Burgers. Capitalized and copyrighted. These monstrous hunks of meat range from just a weensy bypass to a triple bypass, and include ingredients like multiple burger patties, fried eggs, bacon and even grilled cheese sandwiches. Holy mothertrucker.

So, I'd heard about these burgers before. In all honesty I was surprised and excited to see other burgers existed on the menu (because, as much as I love grilled cheese, fried eggs, bacon and burgers, that's a little too much for one sitting). There are lots of burger choices, making this Beef Babe have a hard-ass time deciding which one to order. Like, the Vortex bills itself as a bar -- you must be 21 to go in and order a burger, much less a choice beverage -- but it's no wonder its reputation hangs a lot on the food menu. Since everyone who comes to this place seems to order and write about a Bypass, and also since I am an investigative reporter, I bypassed the Bypass and headed straight for the "OMFG Burger" listings.

Meet the Carnivorgasm, my hunka-hunka-burnin' lurve.

I was jumping up and down like a small child on Christmas when I discovered that one of those burgers is called the Carnivorgasm. I imagined the headline of this post the moment that word crossed my eyes. This burger is rightly named: it is two inch-thick sirloin patties, cooked medium.

Hold up. Let me segue (pronounced "seg-way," like those dinky little things tourists ride on, but cooler) for a moment into a meat lesson. Given that this is Beef Month, I just need to tell y'all that if you get a hamburger cooked anything more done than medium you might as well put a piece of charcoal in your mouth instead, because you're killing the flavor and any potential foodborne pathogens are already dead at the medium temperature. of 160 degrees.


Back to the king of sex burgers.

On top of these medium-temperature patties are slices of turkey, slices of ham, thick pieces of bacon and a generous dollop of pulled pork. This is how the conversation I had with my burger went:

Burger: "Oh, hello, Dallas! So nice to see you could finally make it a mile from your house to come devour me."

Dallas: "Yes. I will devour you. Give it to me. Give. It. To. Me. OMFG -- your flavors are a foodgasm -- oh. Duh. That's how you got your name. And your menu category."

The Carnivorgasm also features whiskey pimento cheese and cheddar.

I managed to make this thing into three meals, because two inches of burger ain't gonna fit in my mouth, much less topped with all the other joyful meatiness between the buns. So one patty became lunch the next day, and then I only ended up managing to devour half the remaining burger in one sitting. That, my friends, is a whole lotta meat.

Aside from the sirloin patties, which were well-seasoned and cooked perfectly, not to mention ginormous, my favorite part of this burger was the pulled pork on top. It was a nice, vinegar-laden bite with a little sweet from the sauce. I have no idea if the barbecue is homemade. Truth, I do not care, because it tasted really damn good. The ham and bacon were nice touches. Cheddar cheese, eh, because I am a weird human and don't really like cheddar. Pimento cheese, excellent. There's just something about pimento cheese and pulled pork together that make this a classy Southern burger, except for the name. Kind of like this Meatetarian, the Carnivorgasm is a lady in the street but a freak in the -- sorry Mom. I'll stop there and move on.

I think the only part that I could have gone without on the Carnivorgasm is the turkey. Not that I have anything against turkey (it's my favorite deli sandwich meat), but I don't think it added anything to the burger. Where everything else was thick, richly flavored and gave you a sensation of "I want all of this in the same bite," I was neither here nor there with the turkey addition. Now, if the intent of having turkey was to have all three of America's favorite livestock represented on the plate (swine, beef, poultry) ... I would not be opposed to swapping out the turkey for a fried egg next time.

And yes, there will be a next time. I mean, it was a hard choice between the Carnivorgasm and the Meat Packer Melt (fact: I am a sucker for a good patty melt on rye). And don't even get me started on the other things on this menu I feel compelled to try ... like the shots. We'll just say buttery nipple is a G-rated shot name compared to the others.

Boozy Bonus!

Photo from Red Brick website

If you do order shots and feel a little nervous about ordering something as sexually charged as Wet Pink Pussy (what?! I warned you!!), then there are a couple options I suggest. First, order the mystery shot. This is the best (or perhaps worst) $2 you will spend on alcohol, because you have no idea what is coming on the waitress' drink tray. It's like "school lunch manager's choice" on the last week of elementary school, when you are torn between bringing your lunch because you might get stuck with turkey tetrazzini (gross!), but on the other hand there's a high probability pizza bagels will be an option (nomz). We got something with tequila in it, and for $2 that's a pretty nice bargain.

Other booze option: the "house" brew, Laughing Skull American amber ale. Not a shot, but you can get it as a beer cocktail with a variety of other things. Check those out on the Booze Menu. Laughing Skull comes from the fabulous Red Brick Brewing Company, Georgia's oldest craft brewery, and does not fail to disappoint with this light and flavorful beer. I call it the "house" brew on account of its logo being oddly similar to that of Vortex. You can also buy this beer at grocery and liquor stores, but if you get the chance to sip it alongside a burger and tots at the restaurant, go for it.

Cinco de Taco

Like every fast food junkie who's hit up T-Bell at 3 a.m. in an effort to fulfill the desires of post-drinking food needs, when I heard the chain was offering free biscuit tacos on Cinco de Mayo, I jumped at the chance. I forced myself to wake up early (because the nearest Taco Bell is in the exact opposite direction of my office), make myself presentable and join the throngs of 20-somethings arriving promptly 7 a.m. to see whether or not we'll deign to be so-called "breakfast defectors."

By "throngs of 20-somethings" I mean me and the one other car that showed up at 7:02 a.m. The throngs are the ones who rolled out of bed at 10, assumed that only hungover college students cared about free food and marched en masse to Taco Bell only to realize that they  had been duped by those of us who have jobs, must be awake before 7 a.m. and hang on to every reminder of our inebriated college past by taking advantage of free food whenever offered. So, by the time the throngs arrived, there were no free biscuit tacos left for them, and now they're doing what kids do these days and posting mean things on social media.

Meanwhile, as these young things were sleeping, innocently assuming there would be free food awaiting them in three hours, I moseyed into my office, bacon-egg-cheese biscuit taco and bacon-egg-cheese A.M. Crunchwrap in hand, excited to celebrate this mostly American holiday with some very American things: fast food, free fast food, bacon and biscuits.

The A.M. Crunchwrap: bacon, egg, shredded cheddar and a hashbrown patty,
all wrapped up in a flour tortilla.

I began with the A.M. Crunchwrap. As my bestie and favorite fellow 3 a.m. T-Bell frequenter Gena knows well, I am a mad fan of the Crunchwrap. The regular Crunchwrap Supreme is a layer of beef, sour cream, tomatoes, lettuce and various other taco toppings stacked on a flattened hardshell taco, all wrapped in a huge soft tortilla. Dip that into some sauce and you've got one of my top five fast food items! Now, there are no vegetables in the A.M. Crunchwrap. It is carb and protein loading to the max. You've got the flour tortilla still, but this time it is wrapped around a hashbrown patty and topped with chopped bacon, scrambled egg and the signature Taco Bell shredded cheddar cheese, plus a kick courtesy of some sort of jalapeno cream sauce.

It tasted good. Like, I would go back and get it again after approximately three days of jogging around the neighborhood twice a day good. I liked that the bacon was crumbled, because you didn't have to worry about only taking one bite and suddenly the whole strip is coming out ... and then you're left with naught but egg and cheese. The scrambled eggs weren't bad. They didn't necessarily taste like something a Michelin star chef would put out there, but they weren't rubbery or hard and were sufficiently salty. Alas, the sauce (and for some reason this always happens with Crunchwraps) ended up all in one corner, so it wasn't until I was two-thirds done with my breakfast that I even realized there was sauce in it. And that was a shame, because the sauce gave a freshness and a zing to the salty flavors of the protein and carbohydrate ingredients! So, note to self, next time I'm ordering an extra tub of that on the side for dipping.

The issue I have with the A.M. Crunchwrap is the "crunch" part. In the regular menu Crunchwrap, that tortilla shell crunches quite satisfactorily when you chomp down, plus the iceberg lettuce and the tomatoes give a little bit more texture. The morning variety, sadly, does not provide that same experience. Though putting a hashbrown inside is a good idea in theory, it's easy to execute poorly. There was no satisfactory crunch from a crispy fried shredded potato patty. It was as if someone hadn't let the oil get hot enough in the fryer before dropping them in, so they absorbed too much oil and came out greasy. Fix that issue, add some more of that sauce, and this ain't a bad way to start the morning if you don't want to spend a fortune at Panera for a "healthy" carbohydrate-laden breakfast or are tired of your regular Chick-fil-A and McDonald's fare.

Onto the real reason why I showed up at Taco Bell at 7:02 a.m.: the biscuit taco. Yes, I got the bacon here again (there are sausage varieties of both), but if you've been following me, you undoubtedly read my post about bratwurst and thus my diatribe against breakfast sausage. So, bacon it is!

I knew it was going to be tough to convert me, a Southern born-and-bred woman who grew up on soul food and fresh-made biscuits cut with a jar top, to something like this. But I tried to go in with an open mind, and hey, it was free. Plus, it looked cute! Great packaging -- a little cardboard taco shell holder that claims "The world is your biscuit. Devour it." I unwrap this delicacy and think, "Heck yes, I will devour you."

Then I took a bite.

Bad news, y'all. Despite its promising exterior, the biscuit taco was lackluster.

The bacon, egg and cheese biscuit taco, wrapped in its signature packaging,
along with the day's receipt for "a Cinco de Mayo miracle."

The biscuit part of the taco is interesting. The inside is crumbly and gives you the mouthfeel of a biscuit, but the outside is almost rubbery. I mean, I understand that food science was involved here and Taco Bell had to figure out a way to get a soft, buttery, typically not flexible biscuit to bend into a taco shell shape, but it's by no means my favorite thing on the Taco Bell menu.

The construction of the biscuit taco was pretty genius: like a regular taco that has ground beef topped with stuff and cheese on top, the biscuit taco featured ground meat (bacon, in my case), the same scrambled eggs as on the A.M. Crunchwrap and again, that shredded cheddar.

Y'all I'mma be cleaning bacon off my desk for a while. The half-inch thick generous helping of crumbled bacon did not want to stay in the biscuit taco. It was messy. Not something I would recommend eating in the car while driving.

Do I appreciate Taco Bell feeding me for mostly free (I bought the Crunchwrap)? Yes.

Would I call myself a "breakfast defector" after this morning? Nah.

But if I ever do need to break out of my traditional spicy chicken biscuit boredom (not sure that sort of boredom exists; I really like spicy chicken biscuits) and have a few spare minutes to wait for a perfectly fried hashbrown patty to stuff in an A.M. Crunchwrap, I'd go back and grab one. They do say variety of the spice of life, especially when that variety comes with a side of spicy jalapeno sauce.

Guest Post: Mama Visits San Antone

A Note from the Meatetarian: Being from the good ole Augusta, Georgia, area, you know three things to be unavoidable -- death, taxes and an influx of tourists the first full week in April as the Masters golf tournament descends on the Garden City. That means the rest of us fly outta there like bats outta Hell. This year, Mama and her sister Aunt Robbie flew (like, actually flew on a plane) to San Antonio, Texas. I asked Mama to share her thoughts on a favorite meal. Here y'all go.

Starting off a San Antonio evening with
bread and a brew. Photo by Terri Duncan

As a child of the South, I was practically birthed into the world of barbecue. Fresh out of the womb, I was raised to understand that those north and even west of the Mason-Dixon line were dead wrong when they referred to this Southern delicacy. They were even grammatically incorrect since they referred to grilling as "barbecuing," bless their hearts! Everyone in the South knows that real, genuine barbecue is a noun defined as a hunk of pork that is smoked low and slow and smothered in a vinegary, tomato or perhaps mustard-based sauce. Until recently, I would have argued that no region outside the South was capable of competing with the mouthwatering barbecue that has always been a staple in my diet. Then I went to Texas and discovered that maybe I have been misled for almost 50 years.

I should have suspected that Texas barbecue would give my Georgia meat some stiff competition because as soon as I hit the Lone Star State, the surprises started slapping me upside the head. For instance, that delightful little river walk area in San Antonio actually stretches for some 13 miles, and one of the greatest cultural influences in that area is not about cowboys and Indians like I was brought up to believe. Imagine my surprise to discover that the Germans brought their own unique styles and customs across two continents to Texas! Then, there was the discovery that this state is one of the largest producers of wine in the country! Lord have mercy! What other surprises would this state hold?

A warm welcome to San Antonio's Pearl area. Photo by Terri
Duncan

During my stay in this Western nirvana, I definitely expected some fine Tex-Mex cuisine as well as tequila-enhanced refreshments, and I was not disappointed. What I did not expect was some of the best barbecue ever to pass through my innards! We were visiting the Pearl area, a former brewery and cannery that has been transformed into a retail and dining mecca. Our goal that evening was actually not barbecue, but local brews, so our final destination was to be The Granary ‘Cue and Brew. The establishment featured selections from craft breweries around the state and appeared to be the perfect destination for our purpose.

As soon as we walked in the door, we felt right at home in the restaurant’s interior. I felt as if I was fixing to embark on an upscale picnic. As we perused the extensive drink menu, we asked the server for her recommendation for our entrée. I was skeptical of her suggestion, which was the barbecue board. Obviously, she did not realize that our discriminating palates were accustomed to the “real” stuff originating from pork, not the beef brisket and ribs she described. Nevertheless, we were feeling brave and took the plunge. I am so glad we did.

The sign beckoned us -- not to mention the
smoky, meaty aroma wafting toward us!
Photo by Terri Duncan

When the food arrived, the brisket and ribs were literally served on a board along with a selection of traditional side dishes: baked beans, potato salad and homemade bread and butter pickles. The sauce was also served on the side. My intention was to stick to the side dishes, but the  smoky aroma was simply too enticing. I took my fork and knife expecting to have to saw through the beef, but I could have used a spoon. That brisket fell apart as soon as I touched it. I lifted a forkful drizzled in sauce to my mouth, and Lord have mercy on my soul! I swear I heard the angels singing! That brisket was the best stuff I have ever put in my mouth. The sauce was tangy, but not overpowering, and that smoky goodness almost melted it was so tender. You barely needed to chew. The ribs, which were more reminiscent of that to which I am accustomed, practically fell off the bones. The sides did not disappoint either; I could have eaten a quart jar of the sweet, paper-thin pickles. I also devoured the flavorful baked beans. Why, there were as many chunks of meat in that bowl as there were beans, and the potato salad was perfectly seasoned; lots of real flavor and not swimming in mayonnaise.


As a Southerner, I am proud of my heritage, but y’all, I am now a barbecue convert. Beef is indeed intended to be the primary ingredient in this delicacy. The South may have met its match with Texas-style barbecue!

Terri Kaye Duncan is a published author and songwriter. Her works have been featured in a number of anthologies, including Chicken Soup for the Soul and Not Your Mother's Book On ... Her most recent book, Camping Reservations: Body of Lies, a murder mystery geared toward middle school readers, is available in print and for the Nook.