A Banger in the Mouth

If you watched "Arrested Development," this title is for you. If you have not yet seen this show, watch the episodes with Mrs. Featherbottom and you will understand. Whether you follow the Bluths or not, you should still read this post and check out The Branded Butcher in Athens, Georgia.

A banger, FYI, is UK slang for "sausage." For example, bangers and mash on a pub menu is sausage and mashed potatoes. I'm picky about a lot of things, sausage being one of them. Breakfast sausage patties especially being one of them. In my experience breakfast sausage is one of those things that comes out either too salty with no other balancing flavors or a little peppery and rubbery. I guess that's why it's always served with pancakes, so the sweetness outweighs the salt. Or you can wrap breakfast sausage in a pancake if you're into fair food at 7 a.m.

I digress. While breakfast sausage is not my favorite meat product, I find bratwurst to be mouthwatering. Prior to this weekend, I only had two places that I would go regularly for bratwurst: the UGA Meat Science Technology Center in Athens and Augsburg Haus in Evans, Georgia. At the UGA MSTC, students and staff actually make meat products from animals harvested from the on-campus slaughter facility. It is fresh, it is local (like, you buy it in the room next to where it's harvested!) and it is dang good. I won't delve into detail about Augsburg Haus right now because I'm suddenly inspired for a visit there soon and it'll get a piece of its own!

I'm adding the habanero bratwurst at Branded Butcher into my top three. Thinking back on this meal makes me hangry. I want to go back for more now.

Habanero bratwurst and a biscuit on the side at The Branded Butcher in
Athens, Georgia

The bratwurst arrives in a little black metal container with creamy, buttery polenta. On top of the polenta is a cross-section of a "cured French horn mushroom," which I'd never eaten before. It was a tad sweet and nutty. The top portion had the soft feel normally associated with fungi, and the closer you got to the volva (base), the filaments got a little closer together, leading to a little more toughness. The accompaniment to all of this was an "agrodolce." When I saw it on the menu, being the super savvy foodie I am, I had no idea what it meant. When I started to write this post I double-checked the menu and then Googled it.

Hopefully I am not the only uncultured person in this world who doesn't know what agrodolce is, so let me teach you. According to the Food Network food encyclopedia (cool; until six seconds ago I did not know this existed), agrodolce is a sweet and sour sauce of Italian origin. In the case of The Branded Butcher, agrodolce is a mix of diced veggies that are sweetened and a little pickled. It added texture to the grits, color to the plate and an awesome flavor mix when you got a bite that had every component of the charcuterie in it: nutty from the 'shroom, salty from the polenta, sweet and sour from the agrodolce, spicy from the bratwurst.

Brown sugar cubes + a glass milk bottle of creamer:
how coffee is served at the Butcher's brunch

I mean, what do you expect when it is called "habanero bratwurst" on the menu, breakfast sausage?! Heck naw, y'all. What I like the most about bratwurst compared to other sausages is how finely ground the meat is inside the casing. The spices and flavor components are blended in better and you're less likely to end up with a giant herb piece stuck in your teeth (reason No. 1 why I shy away from Italian sausage). In essence, a bite of habanero bratwurst looks innocent, because until you shove a forkful into your salivating mouth, you don't realize just how much habanero is in there. I may or may not have asked for a glass of milk (which comes served with a cute little paper straw and I felt like a very happy 6-year-old). But it was so incredible that I couldn't stop myself. The heat hits the tongue, then the back of your throat, but you've got the mushroom and the agrodolce and the savoriness from the meat itself. I say "meat" because traditionally bratwurst is a pork and veal blend, but can be solely pork as well, and the menu here did not specify.

Tip: Get a biscuit on the side. It's well-worth it, because you can turn it into a little breakfast sandwich of habanero bratwurst, sauce and butter. Plus it makes you feel a little more brunch-like if you're showing up and ordering non-breakfast sausage before noon.

Boozy Bonus!

There's a brunch option called The Hipster Breakfast. It is only served after 12:30 p.m. It includes a PBR. I will let you draw your own conclusions.

Aw, Shucks, Y'all!

Guess what -- after three weeks of no posts, you get two doses of Meatetarian Eats this week! Aren't you lucky!

Somehow my 26th birthday became "The Year of the Seafood," as two of the three celebratory meals I ate centered on chicken of the sea. Eh, that pun didn't work. Moving on.

Birthday part three took place in Alpharetta (north of Atlanta) at this swanky seafood place called Pappadeaux Seafood Kitchen. The concept behind Pappadeaux includes French and Creole flavors that bring Bourbon Street to the metro area. Lots of things are blackened or served with andouille; lots of menu items end with "etouffee" or are served in a gumbo. Since I'd just eaten fish, I decided to venture a little more toward the seafloor.

A cup of crawfish bisque

The meal began with something I'd never had before, but seemed appropriate for being in a Creole restaurant: a cup of crawfish bisque.

I could have eaten a bowl.

Here's the thing about bisque. If you get "bisque" from a can or from somewhere that prepares it cheaply, you're more than likely to get a watery, greasy soup with more butter melted on top than any other ingredient. It may be creamy, but there's no texture to it aside from the one piece of meat buried at the bottom. A true bisque is a thick, creamy soup studded with chunks of meat throughout. It is rich. It is flavorful. It makes you slurp the whole thing down in three minutes and ask the waiter for bread so you can sop up what your spoon didn't get.

The crawfish bisque gets two thumbs up at Pappadeaux. It was packed with chunks of crawfish. It had just a hint of kick without being overly spicy. The only downside was we did not get bread to dip in it, so I had to resist the urge to be ultra ladylike and stick my finger in the cup.

Instead of getting a fish entree, I followed up the soup with the oyster duo. This is a plate of six Apalachicola oysters (and yes, they were from Apalachicola -- I asked!) served two different ways. Three are Oysters Baton Rouge, presented with a melted parmesan-romano sauce on top. The remaining three are Oysters Pappadeaux, stuffed with crabmeat and then topped with chopped spinach and hollandaise sauce.

Left: Oysters Pappadeaux, right, Oysters Baton Rouge;
served on a platter of salt

The oysters were baked, so the cheese was nice and bubbly and the hollandaise smooth and creamy. The oysters themselves (I scraped the toppings off to try the pure little mollusks) were thick, meaty and briny. Despite being baked, they were well-cooked and still tasted fresh. No slime here, bro. I enjoyed the Oysters Pappadeaux trio more than the Baton Rouge -- though the cheese was good, it was the only flavor presented, and that left a little to be desired. Granted, I am no expert at oyster toppings, but this blend of cheeses could have been amped up a bit, perhaps with the addition of the Tabasco sauce folks usually throw on raw oysters.

Pappadeaux is definitely a cool place to take the family. I felt like we went back in time a few decades and that jazz music should have been playing. This restaurant (a franchise, so I'm only speaking for the Alpharetta location) is what I'd imagine a New Orleans seafood restaurant circa 1924 would be like. The decor, the acoustics, all of it. You walk in and next to the lobster container is a huge on-ice display of fish that you can eat that night. The restaurant seats 400 people. FOUR. HUNDRED. There was live music playing in one room, dimmed lights added to the ambiance and servers bringing out dessert sampler platters every 10 minutes. I enjoyed the meal and the atmosphere and would definitely come back. They also have a lunch menu if you're in the mood for something heftier than a soup and salad.

But if you go and get a soup and salad at lunch, I highly recommend the crawfish bisque.

This Beer, I'll Eat.

Food things I like: beer, bacon, burgers, beef, bread, cheese.

I mean, secretly I'm clearly a stereotypical man, apparently. So it should surprise exactly zero people that Justin and I celebrated our birthdays (mine was March 19th, his the 20th) with beer at the original Taco Mac. 

Yeah, ya heard me: Taco. Mac.

Do not be fooled, my friends. First of all, I've said it before: I don't get paid to do this. I am not a "real food blogger" by any means. I do not even like the word "blog," to be honest with you. So, I can go into a chain restaurant and tell you what I think of the food if I so dad-gum please, because not all of us are hired by Atlanta Magazine and given a $100 bill for just the appetizer section of the menu.
Disclaimer: No idea if that's how real food critics work. 

Anyway! Back to the point of the matter. The original Taco Mac is located in our neighborhood of Atlanta, the Virginia Highlands, in a section on the corner of Virginia and North Highland. It's small, it's unassuming, it probably seats a grand total of 40 people. The inside is a little dark. The bar has cool bottles on a shelf and draft beer taps in front of the stools. I'm not kidding when I say my apartment may be the same size as the original Taco Mac.

What I'm getting at is that you shouldn't judge a chain restaurant. My first Taco Mac experience was at the chain version, and I felt a little bit like I was in an Applebee's with more of a tex-mex feel. The layout was similar; the local high school football pennants were there; it was bright and sunny and felt more like a restaurant than a bar that just happens to serve good food. Chain Taco Macs, like most franchises, vary greatly. In fact, Justin flat-out refused to go to the original because of how miserable his experiences were at other locations. It was only by the prodding of our friend Peter that we finally ventured forth behind the screen doors of the patio and into the depths of this fine bar establishment.

And now we go back at least once a month.

This particular night, I'd heard on the radio something about limited time menu items featuring Sweetwater beer. I am not a fan of the Sweetwater beers I've tried. They've been a little weak, the pale ale a little too pale, and indeed ... sweet. One day I'll write about the Meateterian's drinking habits. But today, I present you with a beer that I may not drink, but I'll sure as heck eat.

Taco Mac's 420 Fish & Chips.

Sweetwater 420-battered fish and chips at Taco Mac

Now, take this with a grain of salt: I cannot speak for the fish and chips meal at all of the Taco Mac locations. But if you come to the original, I suspect you'll be pleasantly surprised by the atmosphere and the menu items.

According to the manager, Sweetwater 420 is the beer added to these traditional beer-battered fish. Ever since my first trip to Captain D's as a toddler (at the time, my favorite things to eat were the crispy bits of breading), I've had a bit of a thing for fish and chips. The fact that fish are now found in sandwiches and tacos only expands my excitement. These fish and chips were GOOD. The breading is light, a little peppery and crunchy. The fish itself was nice and flaky -- I did forget to ask whether it was fresh or frozen, but it tasted fresh -- and had a good meatiness to it. Fish and chips that are soggy or heavily breaded or don't have the right fish (meaning the fish falls apart) may have good flavor, but are not worth your time to eat a fish stick with a fork. Thankfully I was able to eat these with both my hands, and even better, they weren't really greasy.

The slaw that comes on the side of this meal isn't half-bad. Slaw is a great side for fish because it's light, has a good crunch and adds some color to a brown plate. My only qualm with this slaw was the flavor. I liked that instead of strips of cabbage and carrots, these were thinly diced (which had a good texture, like a crunchy couscous) and the veggies weren't drowning in Duke's mayonnaise. However, and this is mostly because I've gotten really into slaw other than coleslaw, it tasted kind of bland in comparison to the fish that starred on the plate. I feel like there's room for improvement.

Bottom line on this one, folks, don't judge a book by its cover, a flavorful beer batter by its sweet liquid counterpart or an original location by its chain compadres. Come to the original Taco Mac, join Brewniversity (Athens folks, it's like Pauley's, but you have an app that tracks your beers instead of a card) and eat these fish and chips before they're gone off the summer menu.

Photo cred: Jailhouse Brewing

Boozy Bonus!

Because this is a post about Taco Mac and I did mention Brewniversity (of which I am a proud student), this blog would  not be complete without a beer mention.

Our waiter recommended Jailhouse Mugshot. Jailhouse Brewing is a Georgia brewery located in Hampton, a little southish of Atlanta. I like hoppy and flavorful beers. I like supporting Georgia breweries and distilleries (as long as their products taste good). Mugshot is hoppy and flavorful and from Georgia. The website says it pairs well with pizza and sharp cheddar cheeses, but it also pairs well with beer-battered fish and chips.

Mugshot is an IPA, which can come off as either bitter all the way through or end with a bitter aftertaste, but I enjoyed that this brew presented with bitter and finished with a warm sweetness. It was also light, a good thing when you're eating anything fried.