Morning Roll Call

It is no great secret that, despite my mad skills with cooking meat, I am miserable at baking.

The only thing I've ever successfully baked is Ghirardelli brownies. That come from a box. And even then, if you mess with my baking system (like, I'm baking them in someone else's oven or for the first time at my new apartment), the brownies get messed up.

My best friend Amanda and I still joke about that one time in seventh grade we tried to make Nun's Puffs, and we didn't have most of the ingredients so we unsuccessfully substituted, and wound up with barely edible but-we-ate-them-anyway-because-we-worked-hard-gosh-darn-it breakfast pastries.  I effed up some boxed chocolate chip cookies once — I swear I followed the instructions for "chewy," so I don't know why they were like eating cookie chips — and I found out the hard way that if you leave the cardboard underneath a frozen pizza while it bakes, you wind up with pretty much raw dough topped with melted cheese, pepperoni and vegetables.

I am, however, quite good at eating baked goods.

Case in point, sad PMS-ing Dallas has been known to eat entire boxes of Girl Scout cookies alone, in one sitting, on her couch while drinking whiskey. Also case in point, yesterday morning's venture to a new (to me) bakery in my new(ish) home of Athens, Georgia.**

I originally attempted to go to the Milledge Avenue Jittery Joe's, which is a local coffee roastery. Highly recommend their spiced iced dirty chai lattes. But I was running late, there was a line ... and though I desperately craved coffee, my immediate thought was "I ain't got time fo' that today."

That's when I remembered this quaint little bakeshop around the corner from Jittery Joe's — Independent Baking Co.! I parked my car possibly illegally and darted over.

"This is perfect! Especially since I discovered that I left my yogurt out overnight at JE's house and now I don't have breakfast," super-adult me said to myself.

Y'all. This little bakery is precious. And I don't mean that in the stereotypical Southern ol' biddy way that is only one step above being told "bless your heart." I mean that in a genuine fashion. It's tee-tiny, clearly made as a place to bake really good bread and pastries, and they tossed out a couple stools for people to sit at.

I would also like to commend Independent Baking Co. on their incredibly minimalist and modern logo design. Obsessed.

But what everyone else obsesses over isn't what's on the outside of this place. It's what's on the inside, and boy, let me tell you — if you're on one of those low-carb or keto diet things ... please get off of it for a day and come here. Fresh-baked anything smells amazing, but fresh-baked bread has this rustic earthiness to its smell that is so warm and inviting. Behind the counter you're greeted with shelves stuffed with loaves and loaves of fresh-baked bread that's emanating that homey smell. I could tell just from looking at them that they were perfectly crusty.

Since I was on the way to work, and eating a loaf of bread by myself is generally not socially acceptable, I glanced down at the front counter, which offered up several different grab-and-go pastries. The danish with spinach and chevre (!!!!) began to call my name, but the woman behind me in line saw me looking and directed my attention elsewhere: to The Morning Roll.

Please pardon the less-than-stellar Insta
story photo quality here.

I have never been so pleased to wake up and learn that my yogurt got left out the previous night. Morning rolls are officially my new favorite pastry ever and like, who needs a Cronut when that costs about $17 plus a plane ticket ... when this divine gift from the heavens is only a couple miles from my apartment?! Here are the most important points.

First: The size. These babies are about the size of my hand, and a solid two inches tall.

Second: Not your average cinnamon roll. Morning rolls are made with delicate, flaky croissant dough, dipped in cinnamon sugar, baked and then dosed with a second hearty helping of cinnamon sugar.

Third: I walked out of here, tip included, with this sugary delight and a latte made with Counter Culture coffee, for only a buck more than I spend at Jittery Joe's for my regular breakfast drink.

It was very hard to eat my morning roll at work and resist the temptation to get back in my car, drive to the other side of town and just eat the rest of them. The original dusting of cinnamon sugar caramelized while baking, so there was this crisp candy-like layer in areas around the croissant dough. I adore croissants (if it's offered as bread for a sandwich, that's what I'm getting), and this was top-notch. The thin outer layer was crisp; hidden underneath was this exquisite cushion of pastry perfection, lightly sweetened.

I'm taking names of anyone who wants to split one of their loaves with me on my next visit.

** TLDR I moved back to Athens full-time last fall; started a new job; hence why it was hard for me to settle in time to write fun stuff that probably only my mom reads. 

She's Back! Also, Pie.

Oh, hey y'all! It's been a hot minute.

Chocolate chess pie from my very first visit.
photo | Dallas Anne Duncan

Before I delve into the Best Pie Shop On The Planet (or, at least in my humble opinion, the best pie shop north of I-285), let me explain why the Meatetarian went MIA for 14 months ... and share with you my plan going forward!

I took on too much. I had a full-time job. I started a magazine. I added volunteer duties. I wanted to be creative. I wanted to knit; to become a director for my direct sales company; to freelance to help support the magazine. At some point I lost my way and stopped writing completely and wondered what on Earth was wrong with me that I couldn't make things work. Kind of happens when you give 2,500 percent of your time, your heart, your drive and your dreams to a business plan that is not successful (or, at least, successful in terms of what you'd like to see). At one point this year, I even began avoiding finding fun places to eat out because every second away from my computer was a second I felt I should be working, and I guilted myself into believing that was the reason my dream business was going stagnant.

I lost my drive. I did the bare minimum at work and writing seemed a burden. I forgot why I wrote in the first place: because I love writing, because I want to teach people about food and farming and why journalism matters.

On Sunday, I made a decision. I needed to make a mental shift forward, away from all the "what-ifs" and "woulda, coulda, shoulda." I needed to make focused, small efforts each day ... each week ... each month, until I was in a place where I enjoyed all of the hats I wear versus dreading putting them on. One of the ways this will happen is weekly Meatetarian Eats updates, every Thursday during my lunch hour, which will go live on Fridays.

This week, I want you to close your eyes and open your pie hole.

I heard about Pie Hole, a fabulous, eensy-weensy cottage bakery in Roswell, Georgia, long before I knew where it was. My aunt and uncle brought a couple of pies to family Christmas a couple years ago, and back in March, I accidentally stumbled upon it while taking myself on a window-shopping excursion down Canton Street. You can't see the bakery from the road; there's only a small sign with a clip-art pie image, the words "Pie Hole" and a giant arrow pointing up a narrow dirt drive.

"Oh heck yes," thinks me, who just got done eating a relatively healthy meal of a salad and sandwich. "I think I'll have dessert."

For $5, I sampled a hefty serving of chocolate chess pie (see top photo). Bestill my heart, y'all. It was decadent. So moist! So rich! So perfect to slowly lick off a fork, eyes closed, hoping no one is watching you savor this sweet moment.

S'mores pie. Coke bottle for scale of the toasted marshmallow
topping. photo | Dallas Anne Duncan

Pie Hole became a regular stop. When my family came up to visit, it's where we took Nanny for her birthday (I highly recommend the s'mores pie — a thick, chocolate filling atop graham cracker crust, slathered with gooey toasted marshmallow fluff). The lovely owner of Pie Hole knows me as "the girl who takes pies to Augusta" on account of me stopping in before every birthday and major holiday to pick up at least one of her incredible creations.

Mom got peanut butter pie for Mother's Day and key lime for her birthday. The homemade whipped cream topping on the key lime pie, by the way, isn't just homemade. It is made for you when you pick up the pie. While you wait. Whoever happens to be in the kitchen when you walk in stops what they're doing, pours some potion ingredients into a mixer and whips up some magic. No one does this anymore!

My most recent foray to Pie Hole was for this weekend's "Fakesgiving," the adorable moniker I gave to the super-early Thanksgiving celebration my family hosted. Two pies came back to Augusta this time — one, a pecan, to celebrate Daddy's birthday, and the other apple. I'll tackle the pecan first by saying I am not a pecan pie fan. The pecans never seem seasoned right, so you end up with these flavorless nuts on top of a sugary, syrupy filling and gross, crumbly crust. But Pie Hole did it up right: the pecans were the best part!

They were big, seasoned with cinnamon and all those warm fall flavors, crisped together almost like a streusel topping. The filling was sweet but not overly so, and it had a nice tackiness to it — no runaway syrup here! We ate it at room temperature moments after arriving in town, but I can only imagine it would be even better heated up and served with ice cream on the side.

But the star of the weekend was, undoubtedly, The Apple Pie Gifted From Gods.

The half-devoured apple pie at "Fakesgiving." photo | Dallas Anne Duncan

Layer. Upon. Layer. of thin-sliced, north Georgia apples, baked perfectly so they are soft yet not falling apart; still with just a hint of crispness. The flavor is a perfect lightly sweet apple-cinnamon. It's like you're eating a bite of pure fall. Oh, and how tall this pie is! The beautiful crust is sky-high, and that's not much of an exaggeration. And each millimeter of that beautifully rustic, hand-formed crust is stuff with those apples. Leaving that pie on Nanny's kitchen table to drive back to Atlanta was not an easy life choice (but we would have devoured it on the way home, so we decided to sacrifice our sweet tooth to share with everyone else). Even our relatives from Australia, who were in town to visit, got to try this magnificence.

In the entire six days since Pie Pick-Up Day, it's been really hard to resist the nine-minute drive to get more pie. Did I mention how ridiculously affordable these handmade pies are? Seriously. A slice and a Coke'll cost you maybe $8, and whole pies are less than $30.

Now the decision remains: which one do I take home for Christmas next month?

Have Cake, Eat it Too.

The last time I went to Charleston, South Carolina, was about three years ago. I don't remember many specifics about that trip, but one thing that stuck with me was a visit to this dessert place downtown. Mom and I walked from Barret's apartment, stumbled upon it and ordered alcoholic coffee and a brownie sundae so big that we had to call in reinforcements to eat it all. It was like Woman vs. Food, except we didn't get free T-shirts. Just a lot of chocolate.

The Charleston Museum is America's oldest.

During my recent trip Labor Day weekend, I had Sunday pretty much to myself. I had two things on the books that day - visiting the Charleston Museum, and eating at Kaminsky's again.

It's kind of funny. My geography of downtown Charleston is not very good. I knew the main streets were Market, King and Meeting, but that was about it. So I rolled into the visitor's center, got a map and took the tacky tourist route of figuring out my bearings. The map was one of those that had advertisements all around the border. But I didn't see one for Kaminsky's. I vaguely remembered it being on one of those three streets, and I was on no particular schedule, so I decided to walk aimlessly until I found it ... like we did three years ago.

The only problems with this plan were that it began to rain, my feet hurt after three hours of walking in really old tennis shoes that didn't have an inside sole and by 2 p.m. I was starving and wanted a destination, not a meander. I sucked it up and asked a shop owner, who gave me directions.

If a dessert cafe can be likened to a speakeasy (or, rather, what this 26-year-old imagines when she thinks of a speakeasy), Kaminsky's is one. It's dim inside - the brightest lights shine on the dessert case - and the furniture and walls are all made of deep-stained wood. It is exactly the type of place where you feel clandestine coming off the street and stepping in for an illicit chocolate beverage and sinful piece of cake without anyone noticing.

There are three types of things you can order at Kaminsky's: coffee, coffee with booze and dessert.
(Well. That is a bit of an exaggeration. A tiny bit.)

After scouring the menu for a solid 15 minutes (my poor waiter ... sorry!) I settled on the Thin Mint martini. Clearly it is impossible to go wrong if you have enough trust in your drink to name it after a Girl Scout cookie.

The Thin Mint lives up to its moniker. It's heavy on the chocolate, light on the mint. Strong on the liquor, but not overpowering. It's a little thinner than chocolate milk in terms of viscosity, so it makes a great accompaniment to the food you're getting. By "food," I most definitely mean "cake."

I took a gander at the dessert counter and after much thought and weighing of pros and cons, what arrived to my table was a giant slice of caramel pecan cake. The term "slice" is used vaguely. As you can see in the picture ... well. It's a hunka-hunka burnin', whole lotta lovin' on the plate.

Thin Mint martini + caramel pecan cake. What a lunch!

Texture-wise it was dense, yet still light in flavor. The buttercream icing (I am a major fan of icing and I will judge you if you choose whipped cream over frosting) was decadent and melted in my mouth. And in between the two layers of white cake - soft, salty-sweet caramel and chopped pecans. Had I not already promised Barret some of whatever I ordered, that thing would've been in my belly, crumbs and all. But since I swore I'd share, I did the classy lady thing and slowly savored each mouthful. The only thing that could have been added to it to make it better would be crumbled bacon.

One nifty thing I noticed about the layer cakes (and you can see it in the picture) is that instead of using a knife to slice the top off each layer and make them flat, the bakers at Kaminsky's invert the two domes on top of one another. This means 1) you save time baking cakes and 2) there are guaranteed two bites of basically just frosting in each slice. What a novel idea! I'm so using that.

There's a veritable smorgasbord of dessert choices, hot toddies and more to be had in this place. Kaminsky's is not for the faint of heart or the gluten intolerant. But for me? It was a sweet way to enjoy my cake, and eat it too.

More Photos!

Robert Lange Studios - my favorite place to spend an hour

Curiosity shop - best little hidden gem in Chucktown

Bay Street Biergarten - thanks for welcoming this
Georgia girl, even though y'all wanted to watch the
Clemson game

The Most Impressive Second Impression

Mama always told me to never judge a book by its cover. The same can be true in the restaurant business.

De Novo looks a little shy. First impression, you probably won't realize it's a restaurant. It's a lime green sign on a stark white background of a Fred's shopping center. If you don't know it is there, chances are you may not stop in. But heed my advice, people: EAT. HERE.

De Novo, located in North Augusta, South Carolina, is the type of fine-dining establishment the CSRA (for those of you who missed my post about Manuel's, this stands for Central Savannah River Area) has been missing. It's not as upscale as Augustino's (which the last time I went to, I was 12 and shared lobster ravioli with my Social dance partner) or Frog Hollow (never been there, but I hear it's classy). Forget the shopping center exterior. Once you step inside, you're in an intimate, modern minimalist setting with white walls, white tablecloths and massive black and white photographs of enticing food.

ProTip: Reservations are not required, but recommended. De Novo only seats about 40 people, which to me is part of its charm!

The third impression at De Novo: buttery
rolls served with tomato relish

If third impressions are a thing, mine is of the "free app" that some restaurants bring you. Sometimes it's chips and salsa (like that epic tomatillo!), sometimes it's a bedraggled basket of crusty bread with a ball of cold butter. Let me just tell you that this place scores major points on the third impression category: warm buttery dinner rolls with a crispy crust and fluffy bread innards, served with salted butter topped with a finely diced tomato relish. See photo to induce Pavlov's Dog Syndrome.

This is one of those places where the menu changes pretty regularly, so what I write about may not be on there when you visit. No biggie though, because my aunt and I scoured the menus for a while before finally ordering. Everything sounded unbelievable! We caved and got two appetizers since we couldn't decide.

Left, Corn Ho' Cakes; right, soft-shell crab and succotash

The Corn Ho' Cakes: Whoa. Buddy. I'm picky when it comes to cornbread -- I don't like it sweet, I don't like it dry, I don't like it bland. These dumplings were a knockout. They were hot, dense, contained corn kernels and had a delightful bit of char on top. Sadly I can't go into much further description because I ate it so fast that I didn't pay enough attention to everything on there. Suffice to say this means you should go try it immediately.

Our other appetizer was that night's special -- soft-shell crab. I've never had soft-shell crab before, and in pictures only seen it in sandwich form. De Novo served it lightly breaded and fried on top of succotash (which I didn't eat, because vegetables). Soft-shell crab is blue crab that's just molted its shell, meaning whole crab is edible. This was such an interesting texture to me: the shell was somewhere in between crunchy and chewy, but the meat was so soft and buttery that it almost oozed out. I'd never had anything that tasted like these crabs either -- almost fishy for a shellfish. Now, that may have had to do with where these blue crabs were caught, as fish and shellfish tend to be reminiscent of their environment. Not bad -- but a lot of things I wasn't used to all in my mouth at once! After eating them fried like this, I'm game for trying them in sandwich form.

Aunt Robbie with her Planter's Plate, or
"tower of vegetables"

Next up were our entrees. Aunt Robbie's was a culinary adventure all on its own. She ordered the Planter's Plate, which I refer to in the vernacular term "tower of vegetables." This was the most artistic presentation of healthy food I have ever witnessed come to a table. Grit cakes, peas, roasted things, cheese ... and the best part (in my mind; also this was the only bite I tried) was the pimento cheese sandwiched between two succulent, tangy fried green tomatoes. I told our waitress that the little 'mater sandwiches should be an appetizer on their own.

A homemade peppery spinach fettuccine

My plate, while less visually impressive, was on par being some of the best pasta outside of an Italian restaurant. The homemade spinach fettuccine had a peppery bite that was mellowed out by sweet, thick-quartered bright red tomatoes and these adorable tiny balls of mozzarella. It was a light meal, the perfect accompaniment to having eaten a roll, two corn cakes and a soft-shell crab moments before.

Eating a light entree meant that there was somehow room left for dessert. We sampled some incredible apple turnovers that were just little bites of Heaven, really. They were tiny empanadas, about two bites each, full of sweet apple and melted cheese. The turnovers were drizzled with a sweet, syrupy caramel and were served with just enough whipped cream to support each bite. Oh, what a rich end to an amazing meal!

The finale

I know, even after reading this, it's hard to believe that such a gourmet dinner can come from a Fred's shopping center. I dare you to go check it out yourself. Don't be surprised when you, too, manage to find an unforgettable four-course meal inside!