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The Perimeter Mall area is getting a new steakhouse this month. Del Frisco’s Double Eagle Steakhouse is set to open for dinner service on September 19, with lunch service following the next day.
The chef behind Restaurant Eugene and Holeman and Finch is opening a "next-generation steakhouse" at the Battery Atlanta at SunTrust Park this month. Here's what you'll see on the menu.
The Midtown restaurant from chefs Shaun Doty and Lance Gummere is introducing certified black Angus steaks that have been aged for a whopping 50 days.
Shaun Doty is back in the kitchen again, and the only question you might have after dining at the Federal is, “What took so long?” Opening the Federal last November has been his greatest gift yet—to Atlanta and, perhaps, to himself.
While a 30 oz porterhouse costs $142, Fry listed off a few tactics that, he says, many steakhouses use to cushion their margins
The renaissance of Southern cooking, the rise of the chef-owner restaurants, the global culinary riches at the city’s periphery and in the suburbs: These all get plenty of play in Atlanta, but when it comes down to it, this town really loves steakhouses.
Our server at Viande Rouge in Johns Creek sidled up to tell us about the night's desserts. We'd already polished off cosmopolitan throwbacks like escargot in puff pastry and an entree of Dover sole fillet, divided for us on a tableside cart, with a side of haricots verts amandine. Sweets followed the same retro route: peach Louie, a Georgia-themed variation on bananas Foster flambéed with bourbon and Schnapps, and—here were the magic words—chocolate or raspberry soufflés. "Raspberry, please," I said.
I left Atlanta for a few years in early 2006. A week before my departure, another food critic in town reached out and said, "Let me treat you to dinner. Name the place." I had already splurged on farewell meals at Seeger’s, Joël, Soto, and the Dining Room at the Ritz-Carlton, Buckhead—not because of any prescient notions that Guenter Seeger, Joël Antunes, and Sotohiro Kosugi would soon leave the city, or that the Dining Room would close not long after I returned in 2009. I just knew how much I’d miss the marvels those restaurants served. So for this final dinner, I wanted an institution that honored Atlanta’s Southern marrow but also fed off its appetite for prestige and success. "Let’s go to Bone’s," I said.
In the late 1980s, my parents and I visited Boston for the first time to check out colleges. We naively booked the trip in January. A half foot of snow blanketed the city on the day we arrived. The concierge at our hotel encouraged us to trudge the few slushy blocks to a Northern Italian restaurant called Davio’s. It was on Newbury Street, a hub of posh shops and eateries. Davio’s had a relaxed cafe upstairs that served pizza and pasta; we descended to the more formal dining room below street level.
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