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

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.

Fish Taco Friday

Here is a first for Meatetarian Eats: A post without a photo of the food. This, y'all, is why 99 percent of the time I have a camera with me.

Friday just happened to be one of those 1 percent days when I didn't, and oh, does it pain me now!

I was en route to Charleston, South Carolina, to visit my "baby" brother, Barret. He's about to graduate from the Medical University of South Carolina as a pharmacist, and will make approximately WAY MORE money than his older, wiser, shorter sister ever will. I had planned out exactly where I wanted to eat and to a certain extent, what I'd order when I got there.

But those plans went the route of epic fail as soon as I got on the road Friday. In case you live in a rock (or just don't live in Georgia), Labor Day weekend 2015 was the weekend that a million extra people decided to come into our state capital for Dragon Con, Georgia Tech football, Atlanta Falcons football, Georgia State football, Atlanta Black Pride Weekend, Vice President Joe Biden ... and that's just the ones I can remember. It was a shitshow and getting out of Atlanta was just as bad as getting in. After spending an extra hour on the road to Evans, I decided to take an evening pit stop and spend the night there instead of go another three hours.

Photo from BirdDog Grille

Long story short, this pit stop brought Aunt Robbie (you'll remember her from our visit to De Novo) and I to a relatively new place in town, BirdDog Grille. I'd heard mixed reviews about it, but it was someplace neither of us had been. We figured what the heck, at least we'll get a good beer out of it if nothing else. This was the point where I decided to leave my camera at her house. Such a bad decision.

I don't know what on Earth these people ate who didn't like it, but we had experiences 180 degrees separate from each other. This place is a great little gem for Columbia County!

After much laboring over the extensive menu (there are wraps, burgers, dogs, paninis, sandwiches), I narrowed it down to the Peanutbutter Bacon Burger and the Dirty Bird wrap. Then when the waiter arrived to take our order, I did the natural thing and absconded the regular menu for the fish taco special.

I wasn't expecting much. Fish tacos from affordable restaurants are notorious for being the smaller tortillas with three bites (or a tee-tiny fillet) of fried fish with like, three dashes of cheese, a massive handful of iceberg lettuce and a generally amazing salsa of some sort. So when it came to the table, BirdDog's fish tacos exceeded all expectations.

First off, I got not one ... but TWO massive tacos. These were the big kahuna eight-inch flour tortillas, crisped nice and folded over grilled fish fillets. I'm not sure what kind of fish it was, but there appeared to be a lot of mahi mahi on the menu, so I'll assume it was that (still working on eating enough fish to be able to tell the difference between them).

They had lettuce, yes, but not enough to overpower your bites. They had fresh tomatoes, sliced in half so you could clearly see how bright red and sweet they were. And oddly enough, shredded cheddar cheese that was melting on top of the grilled fish. I don't like cheddar - it tends to have almost a mealy quality when it's not melty enough - but the cooks fixed this one up right.

The best part about these fish tacos, aside from the sheer size of them, was the sauce. It was white, creamy and spicy, almost a riff on a tarter sauce. I know from other items on the menu that there's a special BirdDog Sauce, but I'm not sure that this was it. Clearly I should have called the restaurant to address these questions before writing. Hindsight, guys.

Anyway, the sauce was so good. It was the perfect amount, too: just enough to add flavor to every bite and still seep out of the back of the taco all over my fingers. Not to steal the thunder from a certain fast-food chain, but that was finger-lickin' good. Sauce remnants that I didn't lick off my phalanges landed on the plate, so I got to dip my homemade chips in there, too. The chips were great texture-wise, though I did have to add a sprinkle of salt on top. Aunt Robbie had the BLT with avocado added, which was good (although not quite up to par with the one I ate at Folk Art).

I was so surprised when I dashed inside that though the patio (did I mention that we have a place in Evans with a patio now?!) was full, there was hardly anyone inside. On a Friday night! I'm not entirely sure what's wrong with my home county that there's a 45-minute wait at the two Applebee's, but not even the hint of a line at this place that has good food, a freakin' patio and is owned by a guy who graduated from Lakeside High School. We don't get that opportunity very often to support a local kid (term used loosely) opening a good restaurant that's not part of a chain.

Did I mention the patio yet? Having a patio also means that there's a chance to hear great music by Augusta-area talent. On Friday it was Bethany & the Southside Boys. I must say, there are few better ways to enjoy a fish taco than on a patio during a warm late summer night, drinking a cold beer and hearing the raspy, soulful sound of this crooning band reminiscent of Joss Stone and Janis Joplin.

Worth the pit stop.

Which Came First, the Duck or the Egg?

A good question, food eaters. In the case of my recent supper at Miller Union, it was the egg that first graced our table.

Normally I would scoff at the idea of paying $9 for an egg ... even given the rise in prices related to highly pathogenic avian influenza (don't worry; eating eggs or poultry will not give you bird flu). However, the farm egg appetizer at Miller Union is the one exception.

Photo from Miller Union's dinner menu page

According to our server, this delicacy is prepared by cracking a fresh egg in a bowl of house-made celery cream, which includes some garlic, some herbs, some other tasty things that make it incredibly aromatic and rustic. It's baked for a short period, then flashed again so the egg gets a satisfying golden coat. The appetizer is presented to the table with a platter of crispy grilled bread and a massive ceremonial silver spoon, which you use to break the yolk, stir up the creamy sauce and then scoop it onto bread. It's so good that despite the fancy price tag and my dry-clean only dress I went finger-first into the starter and did not look like the most ladylike customer as I put bite after bite in my mouth.

This was undoubtedly the coolest presentation of eggs to grace my table. Texture-wise what you spoon on each slice of bread is a combination of heavy sauce and lightly cooked egg whites. By mixing the yolk into the already thick cream, you get a velvety, buttery quality. It's equally simple in construction and elegant in execution, and it alone is worth the trip.

Then they bring you the duck.

Well. I ordered the duck, anyway; there's a whole host of regularly changing entrees you can choose from. But if it's there when you go, I promise it is all it is quacked up to be. (Get it? Quacked up? OK, you're right, review of fancy restaurant is probably not the best place for a lame pun. Moving on.)

Tender, rare duck breast at Miller Union

The seared duck breast is the most well-seasoned piece of meat I've ever eaten. Oh my heavenly days, y'all, it was all I could do to cut each tender slice into a bite-size portion so as to savor every morsel.

Rare duck breast is reminiscent of beef tenderloin in texture. The tenderness is unparalleled. It has a salty, herbed, flavorful crust and then a slight metallic tang of iron, in case you didn't already know you were eating incredible meat. It cut like a stick of butter.

The duck was served on top of polenta (it's kind of like a thicker version of grits) with pieces of onion,slightly sweet sliced figs and bitter, peppery arugula. I don't want to entice Chef Steven Satterfield (also a co-owner) to raise his prices, but I felt that $32 was a bargain for the quality of this meal.

We didn't save room for dessert (I'm telling you, that farm egg app is rich), but there is a dessert menu, and it includes such things as balsamic ice cream and what looks suspiciously like an edible version of a whiskey mule. So keep your sweet tooth in mind when making reservations.

Beyond Casual

Georgia State students blocking the entry to my parking deck. High school cross country teams out for morning runs. The leaves outside my apartment turning gold and falling to the ground. Fall is nearing and the dog days of another sweltering Georgia summer are coming to an end.

There seemed no better way to commemorate the season change than by eating outside at the Evans, Georgia, Rhinehart's Oyster Bar the last time I was in town.

Rhinehart's has been an Augusta-area staple for longer than I've been alive. It opened in 1983 and brings the flip flops and pop tops aura of beach eating to its two locations in the CSRA. Thinking about it now I can actually hear the radio commercials from my childhood, proclaiming "This is Amy from Rhinehart's Oyster Bar" loud and proud in my ear. Aside from the fact that it's one of my favorite stomping grounds on my weekends home, I wanted to do a Meatetarian Eats post on Rhinehart's because recently it received some shoddy press from consumers who are 1) over-reactive and 2) have no idea what they're talking about. Let the Meatetarian educate you for a moment.

Just like worms that occasionally invade your apples, there are some marine worms that can come live alongside oysters in the wild. We like mother of pearl shells and so do they. Occasionally, according to the North Carolina Department of Environment and Natural Resources, so-called oyster worms can make an appearance in restaurants alongside the mollusks customers order. And I quote, "they do not affect the health, quality or taste of oysters, and they do not pose a known health risk to consumers, especially if they are discarded when found." So, if you happen to see a weird little moving object on your oyster shell, alert your server, ask for a new oyster and maybe advise the kitchen staff to keep an eye out for more wigglies so they can be taken care of before the half shell hits the plate.

Right. Back to the task at hand, which is the $7.67 shrimp basket lunch special.

Light, flaky breading is a trademark of Rhinehart's shrimp and oyster baskets

As a wee thing I ate my fair share of popcorn shrimp. I was used to heavy breading and a dense, deep brown shell surrounding my prized crustaceans. When Rhinehart's finally opened a second location in Evans and I got my first opportunity to eat there, the light flaky batter surrounding butterflied shrimp tails was a refreshing spin on my childhood favorite!

Each basket has a handful of sweet, juicy shrimp and fries. The fries are skin-on, a good thickness and seasoned with salt, pepper, grease and what I'm 99 percent sure is Old Bay. You're also presented with two cups of dipping sauce: a bright red cocktail and a salty tartar. This is one of the places where the sauce is probably there for shrimp dipping purposes, but the fries are excellent dipped in there as well. Forget ketchup when you've got these on the plate!

If you're not up for shrimp, you can also get a fried oyster basket, though it's a little more than $7.67 (a price that you can't beat for the food you get). The po'boys aren't bad either, and though I've never had it, members of my family like the burger, too.

I do think the best way to experience a Rhinehart's lunch special is outside at one of its picnic tables with a cold beer and hot sun. The inside is fine, but it's dim lighting and reminiscent more of a bar than of a day on the coast, so I prefer to eat outside and pretend I'm closer to the surf than I really am!

ProTip: Unlike eating at an actual beach restaurant ... I think management might not let you in if all you're wearing is a bikini and flip flops. Rhinehart's may be beyond casual, but it's still got standards, friends.

High on the Hog

There are two kinds of barbecue in this world: the kind that is finely shredded and every square inch of meaty surface is drenched in sauce, and the kind that is haphazardly shredded and topped with sauce so that the flavor of the smoked meat shines through. Both are, generally speaking, incredible feats of cookery.

At D.B.A. Barbecue in Atlanta's Virginia Highlands, you get the second kind. It's thick hunks of pulled pork with a sweet charred bark and a visible smoke ring (that's the slightly pink ring just under the crust). The pork is tender and full of smoky, woodsy flavor.

You can get plenty of different barbecued meats at D.B.A. -- in fact, there are some sampler platter options that were hard to pass up -- or you could go a more traditional route and order a barbecue sandwich with a side.

And for those who ain't got no time for forks, D.B.A. does you a flavor and has the option of your side being on the sandwich. Presenting The Archie Bunker:

Your entree and side, all in one. The Archie Bunker at D.B.A.

Inch-thick crusty, crisp, buttered, browned Texas toast.

A veritable mountain of that delectable smoked pulled pork drizzled with house-made barbecue sauce.

A gooey mound of hot macaroni 'n' cheese melting on top.

I don't know who came up with this menu item, but they deserve a raise. There are layers of texture in every bite: first your teeth hit that thick toast with a satisfying crunch. Then you sink into the mac layer; creamy al dente pasta melds into those chunks of pork barbecue and you are transported away to your happy place.

Barbecue has been one of my favorite foods for as long as I can remember, so I've had my fair share. By no means am I an expert, but from my experience, this sandwich is something special. Each bite is salty, smoky and sweet. And if you want to spice things up, there's a habanero sauce on the table to do just that.

According to a fellow food writer, the acronym stands for "Doing Business As" and dang, they do good business doing good barbecue. D.B.A. may end up being my first return trip for Meatetarian Eats. There are so many good things on its menu (like a brisket Philly, hell-o!) and I'm quite interested to see what on Earth a Pickled Moonshine Martini tastes like. If your tastebuds haven't been turned on yet by my descriptions of its food, then that statement should convince you to come check it out yourself ... because it takes a helluva lot for this red and black bleedin', "Glory" singin', Gator hatin', proud member of the Bulldog Nation to go in any place with as much University of Florida memorabilia as D.B.A. has.

But for as high on the hog as this place gets you, it's very worth putting up with the more than usual amount of blue and orange decor.

The Meatetarian Eats AMI: Part 1

Never heard of Anna Maria, Florida? Then y'all got some researchin' to do. My family discovered Anna Maria Island last summer and I'm forever glad we made it a regular trip. There are SO many good places to eat here!

Over the next two days, we're going to walk around the island and I'll point out a few of my favorites and why you should get here when you can.

The Donut Experiment
By far, my absolute most favoritest (Yes. It's a word.) place to eat on this island, and also potentially the state of Florida. Here's the concept of The Donut Experiment, which was formerly known as Anna Maria Donuts: You go in and fill out an order form for your doughnuts, selecting the icing and topping combo of your choice. Take it up to the counter, hand it over, pay for your doughnuts and coffee, then hang out until they call you with your order. Simple as pie. This place is good and is therefore always packed. And like any other place that hand-makes you fresh doughnuts while you wait, it is so worth it.

You can't walk down Pine Ave. and not smell the luscious, sweet odor of freshly cooked cake doughnuts. It draws you in and then you're faced with a potentially life-changing choice: "Do I want caramel icing with sea salt, or should I go for the big one and bring home a Sriracha doughnut?" The answer, clearly, is both.

I only managed to make it to TDE (unofficial abbreviation) thrice during our most recent trip, but dang y'all. I could've easily eaten here every single morning that week. Let me show you how much better my breakfasts were than yours:

Out of these three, the favorite was key lime. This includes a good dip in creamy white frosting, a dunk in crumbled graham cracker and a zig-zag of key lime syrup on top. It's what would happen if you made a dessert that is a layer of key lime pie on top of a layer of cake. In other words, magnificence! I stuck to the "one way" doughnuts on this trip, which means you order them and you get it how it comes. The special one-way this week was caramel delight, which I ordered despite having no idea what I was about to be presented with. As you can see, it's chocolate icing, crispy toasted coconut flakes (which were great, by the way; I'm not a huge coconut fan, but I loved this addition!) and a drizzle of caramel. It's hard to go wrong with chocolate and caramel. That final one is the Sriracha, and it is the definition of "spice is nice." The moist cake doughnut is smothered in a rich peanut butter that melts on contact with the piping hot doughnut, sprinkled with chopped peanuts and then a layer of peppery Sriracha hot sauce is drawn on top. There is nothing sweet about this breakfast except your mouth crying out for sweet Jesus as you chow down -- both because it's spicy and because you can't get over how good it is.

Poppo's Taqueria
Second favorite place in Florida ... which just so happens to be right next door to The Donut Experiment. They share a porch.

I love pork tacos these days, and Poppo's does not disappoint. All of their food boasts such amazing flavors that one moment there's a taco on your plate and about three seconds later you look around and wonder where the heck your lunch went because you ate it that fast and already want more. I love the Classic concoction, which is pork with cilantro, diced red onion, hot sauce and lime on a corn tortilla. That hot sauce has a good kick, but I absolutely crave it when it's on top of succulent, melts-in-your-mouth pork and the burst of freshness from the cilantro.

To be honest, Poppo's may have the best carnitas I've had the pleasure of eating. Carnitas is a Mexican way of cooking pork by braising or roasting it before shredding. It's just so juicy here. I don't know what they put in it, but the pork tacos here are crave-worthy. In fact, I typically get a second taco (seriously; finishing one will leave you wanting more, so you're gonna want two at a minimum). That one is pork (duh) full of slaw, cheese, pico, cilantro and a drizzle of sauce. Having this taco is what made me start to like red cabbage -- yes, I realize it took me 25 years to appreciate red cabbage -- because the slaw is honey and lime marinated red cabbage. Can we talk about food that makes me hungry?!

Thankfully in Atlanta there's a Willy's, which is the closest I can get to pork tacos of this caliber, but it just ain't the same as being outside at Poppo's, eating a freshly made taco with carnitas juice running down your fingers and dripping on your plate and swallowing a tasty craft IPA from local Big Top Brewing to wash it down.

Rod & Reel Pier
If you don't do doughnuts for breakfast (at which, I must inquire what on Earth is wrong with you!), I recommend the bike ride to Rod & Reel Pier. There are two piers on AMI -- one is City Pier, which is larger and home to bar food, apps and brews; and the other is Rod & Reel. It serves food all day, but what I've been most impressed with is breakfast.

You go upstairs, sit down and have a view of the Gulf of Mexico while you eat. There are fishermen downstairs on the dock, the St. Pete bridge in the distance, a solid look at Egmont Key State Park and plenty of open water to watch for dolphins, rays and all other manner of sealife as you chow down on eggs and bacon. I recommend the omelettes of all varieties: they're pretty much the size of an infant so you might want to pay the $1 price to share it with someone! The pancakes are amazing too. Light, fluffy, almost cake-y in flavor, and they're served hot with powdered sugar on top, which caramelizes as the pancakes cool. You can also be healthy(er) and get fresh berries or fruit served on top.

This trip I tried out the bacon, egg and cheese biscuit sandwich. Sandwiches are an essential part of my diet, so it's hard to resist the offer of one full of fried egg, salty bacon and melty cheese. Rod & Reel breakfast is comfort food that'll keep you full until dinner, at which point you can return for fried grouper.

Tune in tomorrow: I'm taking you on a stroll to some other tasty treats you can devour while in this beautiful island community.

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.

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!

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.

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.