From hundreds to thousands to tens of thousands, Freaknik grew, but during its first decade, almost all white Atlantans—and many black Atlantans over the age of 40—were oblivious. Then came Freaknik 1993.
Atlanta is a melting pot of different cultures' cuisines—and that's a good thing. The problem is the restaurants where I most want to eat are getting farther and farther away. Also: Feedel Bistro—and Ethiopian food—is for everyone.
Long before a mouse named Mickey showed up in central Florida, the South was dotted with roadside attractions and family-owned amusements. Rock formations, natural springs, botanical gardens, and menageries of animals were the mainstays of vacation fun.
Rather than trying to procure ingredients indigenous to the South of France, chef Nick Leahy embraces the philosophy of all local, all the time. Expect a great drink with intelligent cocktails and a wine list that offers unusual bottles from southern France.
In the gym are people of all shapes and sizes, ranging in age from college students to professionals in their 50s and 60s. The gym-goers gently critique each other’s form and effusively cheer each other on. These are the Fantastic Beasts, Atlanta’s only LGBTQ powerlifting club—and, according to the organizers, possibly the first of its kind in the world.
As obvious as the physical transformation of Atlanta’s restaurant scene has been, an underground dining revolution is also underway. The latter—waged by chefs hosting pop-up “restaurants” and dinner series, as well as entrepreneurs offering incubating spaces—isn’t as easy to observe as the former. But it’s similarly impressive. In many ways, it’s more impressive.
Expect a glammed up version of the Decatur restaurant when it arrives in the Hanover Buckhead Village complex, but with many of the same menu favorites, including bacon-wrapped dates, pork cheek tacos, and Iberico macaroni and cheese.
In 1837, Georgia lawmakers authorized a “Lunatic, Idiot, and Epileptic Asylum.” Five years later, the facility opened as the Georgia Lunatic Asylum on the outskirts of the cotton-rich town that served as the antebellum state capital.
O4W Pizza owner Anthony Spina has returned to Atlanta with a new concept: Nina & Rafi. Atlantans had been eagerly anticipating the Grandma Pie’s homecoming, but it isn't on Nina & Rafi’s menu. Could his Detroit Red Top possibly live up to grandma’s hype?