Pie for Breakfast

Have you ever had the intense pleasure of eating pie for breakfast? This decadent way to start off a day generally begins for me at Waffle House with my friend Laura, but over Labor Day weekend I got quite the treat in Charleston, South Carolina.

I spent the weekend visiting my brother, and we started off Sunday morning with a delicious brunch (we went so early it was breakfast, actually, but served off the brunch menu) at Bluerose Cafe. You wouldn't know it from the name, but I got the hint from the menu items and decor that the restaurant had Irish roots. According to its website, owner Denis O'Doherty came to the US in the 1980s, spent some time in Boston and then moved south to Chucktown. I salute you for that decision, sir!

The founding story behind the restaurant is on the homepage, and it's great. O'Doherty mentions that he mastered some of his mother's recipes for pastries and scones. I can attest to that, because when we arrived at Bluerose a plate of dense scones and airy cakes was placed in front of us. That was a perk of the full Irish brunch we were in for.

Really, the whole brunch was a perk. Barret (little brother) ordered the quiche and was presented with a huge hunk of eggy pie, which he proclaimed delicious. I wouldn't know, because he wouldn't share.

I may have taken a bite before taking a photo. Don't judge.

My brunch was crepes. Blueberry and cranberry crepes! Two of my three favorite berries, slightly crushed and stewed down with sugar until they delivered a sweet, syrupy filling spooned on top of a thin flour pancake. If you're not familiar with a crepe, the best way to describe it is a French taco (unsure why there was a French item at an Irish place, but I am not arguing; it was good). Instead of a tortilla, the crepe batter is poured on top of a big flat circular surface and thinned out with a fancy little squee-gee like tool (I'm sure there are industry standard names for these things). A good crepe like these turns out uniformly thin and flexible, able to be wrapped around that berry filling and then topped with a dusting of powdered sugar, and a drizzle of sumptious honey cream. I now understand why people talk about berries and cream like it deserves to be its own dish.

It was like eating pie for breakfast.

Each forkful was dripping with syrup. The juicy berries burst in my mouth, enrobing my tongue in a sweet and tart flavor sensation. There were two crepes and I could've eaten double that.

Thankfully my brunch came with a side of (you guessed it!) potatoes to tide me over! With a name like The Meatetarian, it's no shocker that my favorite food groups are meat, cheese, bread and potatoes. I am a huge fan of potatoes, because of their versatility and their ability to impart a salty flavor and starchy texture to balance out any meal. These home fries were bite-sized chunks of potato - official Meatetarian definition = took up two to three tines on the fork - and had crispy skin that hit my teeth with a satisfying crunch. Perfectly seasoned, lightly greasy (it is a diner!) and tender on the inside of each golden brown spud. I let Barret get a taste of the crepe, but man ... I hoarded those potatoes!

Bluerose's sign proclaims "Cead Mile Failte," which is Gaelic for "A hundred thousand welcomes." Whether you go in for a full Irish breakfast and fill up on scones or hold out for some shepherds pie at lunch, you'll feel right at home in this diner with a touch of Dublin, even all the way in the lowcountry.

Gone Eatin'

Helping his grandson catch a fish off City
Pier. Anna Maria, Florida; 2015.

I am not a fisherman. You will never see a sign on my front door telling visitors, "Gone fishing, be back at noon." It's not that I don't like to fish. I'm just not very good at sitting still and quiet for hours upon end. I'm also not good at swimming or using the outdoors as a bathroom, two things I feel are key to being a successful fisherman.

You are much more likely to see a sign on my door that says, "Gone eatin', be back after brunch."

That is precisely the sign I should have had this past Sunday when I was eating brunch, incidentally, at a seafood restaurant in Atlanta.

Goin' Coastal has two Atlanta-area locations. The one closest to me is in the Virginia Highlands, but there is also a spot in Canton, Georgia, which is north of the city. You may think I'm a little nuts for thinking it's worth eating fish at a city restaurant far from the open ocean (or a natural lake). However, I must dispel that myth with something I learned last summer while on assignment for the Farmers and Consumers Market Bulletin.

According to an interview I did with an executive for Buckhead Beef, most of the fresh seafood caught off the US coast winds up in cities like Atlanta. That may seem counter-intuitive. Here's how it works: fishermen fish and bring back their catch. Most of the seafood processors are not directly on the coast. So refrigerated trucks pick up the day's catch that's been preserved on the boat, trucks it up to Atlanta (in our case, we have both Inland Seafood and Buckhead Beef as large seafood processors) and it gets fixed up and then delivered to area restaurants within 48 hours of being off the boat. And thanks to Atlanta having a major airport, international and other domestic fisheries also are able to deliver fresh fish to us as well.

So, the "whatever's off the boat and on our menu" chalkboard changes daily at Goin' Coastal for that reason. And the specials change regularly too depending on what was caught and how much of it got delivered. For example, this most recent stop had amberjack, but I've been before when there was a full list of fresh options.

I went with the brunch omelet special this time. It featured peekytoe crab, sweet summer corn, tomatoes, leeks and ginger all cooked together, flipped over and served with a side of fantastic cheese grits. Most omelets I've indulged in are heavy on the savory (bacon, spinach, mushrooms, onions and tomatoes are a favorite combination, occasionally with an addition of olives, capers and feta cheese) and I was surprised by how light and saccharine this one was. The combination of all of the naturally sweet components was quite interesting and I enjoyed it. I did not really taste the ginger (which is fine; not a huge ginger fan) and I liked the acidity imparted by the tomatoes, which were big slices and not tiny diced pieces. Taking a forkful of omelet and dipping it in the grits made for a good bite.

It was also nice to have an unconventional sweet brunch option like this available, since most such options involve heavier maple flavors and thick, nearly cloyingly sweet baked goods drenched in sugar.

Now, since I've never heard of peekytoe crab, and since I'm nine years a journalist, it was imperative that I Google this crustacean before I wrote about it. Here's what i found out, mostly gleaned from this excellent New York Times story written nearly two decades ago (apparently, while delicious, this crab has not yet gained enough traction in the food world to garner many search results from actual news agencies):

Photo: The Cook's Thesaurus

• They're also known as "mud" or "sand crabs"
• They were once a byproduct of the lobster industry and usually got discarded
• Sometimes they're lumped in a group of crab meat called "Maine crab," but more oft than not, "Maine crab" will contain a blend of crab meat that doesn't include the sweet fibers of peekytoe

Whatever you call it, it's one of the sweetest crab meats I've tasted. It's quite delicate and almost fibrous in texture, so I'm interested to see how it would hold up in other preparations besides this one. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to jaunt up to the northeast-most point in the country and do some peekytoe trapping ... because while I may not be good at fishing, I have no problem hanging out at crab traps and talking with boat captains, waiting for these tasty morsels to come by.

Oh, Oh, Oh! Sweet Brunch of Mine

One of the first things I heard when I moved to Atlanta in 2013 was that I had to eat at Flying Biscuit Cafe.

This directive came from my mother, and it came as we were driving (not quite lost) in search of a backway to Target. We passed a corner restaurant in the city's Candler Park neighborhood and the line was wrapped around the building, then around the block. It looked like the place to be on a Saturday morning. And at least one weekend a month, a fleeting thought goes through my brain: "We should go to Flying Biscuit for brunch!"

Said fleeting thought finally stuck around long enough to become action this past Sunday. Though parking was complicated (there's no dedicated lot nearby, so I hope you're great at parallel parking!), the line was only a dozen people and we were seated in about 30 minutes.

Do you think 30 minutes is too long of a time to wait for brunch? Go, then, because that leaves more room at the inn for those of us who crave brunch like what's served here.

The Flying Biscuit has breakfast all day, which is fabulous. But if you're not an "I will eat eggs, bacon and grits at all hours of the day and night" type of person, the restaurant also features a ton of non-breakfast eats too. Arriving at prime Atlanta brunch time like we did made that decision hard on me -- did I want an egg-y meal or should I sway to the side of the Coca-Cola Chicken BBQ Burrito?!

After settling on eggs Benedict, I took a moment to survey my surroundings. Flying Biscuit is a fun little place. It has exposed elements that give it a casual industrial air. The walls are painted in bright colors and big, bold patterns. Well, what you can see of the walls, that is. There's so many awards in the front room it's clear to see why that line I observed existed! The tablecloths are bright green, dated floral and vinyl-covered. The napkins are purple. You are surrounded by cheerfulness and the smells of hot black coffee, baking dough and bacon.

Swoon.

When the Southern Style Biscuit Benedict arrived, I scolded myself for waiting so long to eat here. How could I have let this fare escape my palate for more than two years?

I've never had a biscuit like this one. Because it's served open-faced with this meal, you can't tell that the unopened biscuits are approximately three to four inches high. They are dense, slightly sweet; the domed outer crust hiding a flaky carb surprise inside.  It is not at all a traditional Southern style biscuit in the manner I was raised to eat biscuits, but, as the guy in my favorite YouTube video says, "Oh my goodness; Oh my damn."

Not to worry, hungry people: pretty much every meal comes with the famed biscuit.

My open-faced biscuit was topped with pimento cheese, turkey bacon, poached eggs and hollandaise, then sprinkled with fresh basil. My mouth had a flavor explosion. The pimento cheese, like the biscuit, was unlike any I've ever had. The creamy spread had chunks of onions and a generous kick of spice. The turkey bacon was beautifully caramelized and had the perfect consistency. The buttery colored hollandaise and the golden yolk of the eggs seeped into every crevice of the biscuit, so every bite made you want to close your eyes and pretend you lived in this piquant alley of restaurant heaven forever.

And then you take a forkful of all that and dip it in the side of grits? Mother of Pearl.

The menu describes these grits as creamy and dreamy, and I'm at a loss for other adequate words. They remind me of the Charleston-style grits Mama makes (read: butter. milk. heavy cream. lots of it). So thick! So savory! So ... I don't want to use the word "dreamy" again, but let's suffice to say that these are the Frankie Avalon of the grits world.

Boozy Bonus (of the non-alcoholic variety)
This must have just been a day of brunch firsts for the Meatetarian, because I had another something I had to let my people know about. It is this delicacy called the chai tea latte. You may be familiar with this via Starbucks or other coffee shop menus and thus are thinking, "Why on Earth do I even read this girl's stuff?! If she doesn't know what a chai tea latte is she clearly has no idea what she's talking about."

Well, now I do, and now I will be getting them on the reg. From here. It's spiced ice tea mixed with dairy -- I didn't ask, but judging from my research on how to make them at home, "dairy" is a blend of milk and vanilla creamer -- and is the perfect not too sweet breakfast beverage.

I was so excited about the one I tried that last night I attempted to make my own!

Guess what, folks. My days as a barista are limited. Reckon I'll be heading back to Flying Biscuit after work to get my fix.

Maybe with some grits on the side.

Folk'n Good Food

Do you live near or in Atlanta, and have no dinner plans tonight?

Cool, because I've got somewhere for you to be. It's one of my new favorite places in Atlanta, and there's some dang good company who'd agree with me. Namely, Guy Fieri.

Yes, Guy Fieri of the first-ever Food Network Star winning, bleached tips, Triple D fame. He likes Folk Art, too. So much so, in fact, that if you show up at the restaurant tonight (that's July 31, to those of you who are coming late to our party) you get to see first-hand what he thinks of this joint. Folk Art is hosting a viewing party with half-price drinks and featured entrees so everyone who comes in can watch Guy eat on the big screen! You can also watch it from the comfort of your couch tonight and over the weekend, but if given the chance to enjoy it with a room full of strangers who love good food and the Inman Park neighborhood ... why wouldn't you come in person to support the restaurant?!

Let me give you a hint of what you'll be in store for.

First off, you walk up to this place and you're immediately accosted by charm. There are mid-century brand signs up all over the place, retro tiles, a drugstore counter-style bar and a patio. Good music. Good service. Even better food.

As you can gather from the headline of this food memoir, I am not the world's biggest fan of vegetables. I would much prefer to have a nice, juicy cheeseburger with lettuce, onions, tomatoes, etc. than be faced with a plate of steak salad. Thus, none was more surprised than I when I ordered the A.B.L.T. off the Folk Art menu at brunch last weekend.

The A.B.L.T. features applewood-smoked bacon, tomatoes, mixed greens and a mustard seed mayonnaise between two slices of buttered, toasted white bread. Addition of hashbrowns and pickles optional.

Yep. That beautiful sandwich is heaping with ripe, red slices of sweet tomatoes and a colorful mix of crunchy lettuces. It could be described as a salad served between two slices of bread. Oh, and how mouthwatering it was!

That "A" in front stands for applewood, as in applewood-smoked bacon. Four thick slices of bacon with a crisp edge and a subtle sweetness imparted from the wood chips they were smoked in. This was perfect bacon, the fatty edges a little bit chewy still, and the tad of grease that when mixed with the mustard seed mayonnaise spread on the bread ... y'all. This is how to make a BLT. And did I mention that this is served on good ol' white bread? There's just something about toasted, lightly buttered white bread that makes a sandwich full of vegetables so much more appetizing. On second thought, that's probably because even lettuce is good when it's dipped in butter.

To up the ante of a BLT (even though there ain't much more upping you could do to this one!), you can do what I did and completely misread the menu.

On the breakfast menu, at 8 a.m. on a Sunday when you're starving and you don't want bacon and eggs, you can occasionally read an item description and incorrectly infer that what is the side item is, in fact, served on the sandwich. I was pretty pumped about the thought of adding some crunch to a BLT with the addition of hashbrowns, so when I found out they were served on the side, I did what every other hungry 26-year-old meat-and-cheese-and-bread-loving food writer person does and forked the hashbrowns (and housemade pickles) on top of my lettuce sandwich.

Guy Fieri's face on the outside
placard invites Atlanta in

But don't despair if you're not weird and don't find BLTs topped with hashbrowns to be an appetizing breakfast. Folk Art has all the normal things, like bacon dipped in pancake batter and then deep fried. Yeah, y'all read that right.

I reckon you've read enough - it's time to shut down your computer and hop on over to this Inman Park place to watch this folk'n good food (it's their motto; I only wish I could've made it up!) get its 15 seconds of fame tonight, which I have no doubt will be the beginning of much more recognition in the Atlanta area. Party starts at 9!

P.S. I'll be the one in the back chowing down on whatever the heck collard green cole slaw is ... on top of a pork sandwich, of course.

L'eggo My Chicken and Waffles!

I've been waiting for ages to find the perfect time to write about my favorite Virginia Highlands restaurant, The Family Dog.

We ate here the first week I moved to Atlanta and it pretty much stuck as the best place on the planet. It's within walking distance of my apartment (which makes returning from a night of boozing reminiscent of college), it's affordable, it's an incredible atmosphere and the food is damn good. Though I'm not writing about them today, I recommend whatever fish sandwich happens to be on the menu, the smoked duck quesadilla (it's enough for a meal, promise), Rosebud pimento cheese with spicy saltines and the oyster po'boy, which occasionally crops up on the summer menu. There are exactly zero disappointments that come from this place. Rosebud, FYI, is another one of the four restaurants owned by Chef Ron Eyester -- the other two are Timone's and Diner.

I give a thumbs-up to the chicken and waffle melt.

The most recent visit to Family Dog was for a specific purpose. Its new menu was released, which included some tempting new brunch and breakfast items. Namely, chicken and waffles.

Somehow, despite being born and raised in the South, chicken and waffles bypassed me as a traditional meal. Then suddenly three years ago everyone is going cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs for chicken and waffles. It's like if your restaurant didn't have an ode to chicken and waffles you deserved to shut your doors and suffer in silence at lack of customers. But none of the restaurants I frequented offered chicken and waffles, and I wasn't exactly seeking it out. I've heard the best come from Ms. Gladys Knight herself, so look forward for a second C&W write-up when I make it over there!

There are two chicken and waffle options on the new Family Dog brunch menu. First is under the sandwiches category: fried chicken and waffle melt. The second is the chicken and waffle plate.

I ended up with both -- new menu = slight confusion = wrong dish brought to the table = new order put in -- and it was the closest thing to perfect food heaven I'd felt in a while.

The sandwich was the original order, so in the confusion it came out second. Thus, I shall start with a look at the plate. The fried chicken was boneless and doused in this sweet pepper sauce. It added a sour tang that made each bite of chicken + waffle + syrup just divine. The chicken was thick, moist and came out nice and hot. And I'm not sure what the waffle makings in the back are, but this was no Eggo. This was a deep caramel-colored waffle crisp on the outside, light and fluffy within and dusted with powdered sugar. I easily could have eaten the entire thing and forgotten about the sandwich ... but I wanted to give both a try. I took tiny bites like the kind a 2-year-old takes of peas they're trying to avoid eating. Except I wasn't trying to avoid eating it because it was revolting, but rather it was so delicious I wanted to savor each forkful.

When the sandwich arrived, I was already pretty full. I was not prepared for the tower of tastiness that was placed in front of me. If you've ever had one of Chick-fil-A's new (I think new?) chicken, egg and cheese sandwiches, you've had a fast-food version. It's two of those fabulous waffle triangles and heaped between is another mouthwatering chicken thigh (fried, boneless and sauceless), freshly scrambled eggs and Tillamook cheddar.

*** Pardon me while I take you on a quick field trip to Tillamook County in Oregon, the land from whence this cheddar comes. Go explore the website. It's fun. And it makes you wish you were a full magazine owner who could disappear off to Oregon at the drop of a hat and go watch cheese being made.

Now that you're fully versed in Tillamook cheddar, you can understand how the cheese plays an important part in the chicken and waffle melt at Family Dog. I mean, in order to be a "melt" a sandwich must contain cheese. Plus it's a mild cheddar, which I think was great for this sandwich. Don't go in here expecting a light chicken sandwich when you order this, either. No veggies, no aioli, no fancy: just chicken, egg, cheese, waffle. Oh, and syrup to dip in. Hot syrup.

Clearly I'm over here salivating just thinking of chicken and waffles. I have no idea how this meal escaped me for 26 years, but man am I glad I finally got some to gnaw on.

Both of these dishes are getting added to the list of "Dallas' Favorite Food at Family Dog" ... which is to say, everything on the menu.