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Less aggressive than a Muscadet, livelier and more aromatic than a Pinot Grigio, falanghina is a little-known white varietal that has, of late, become more visible among wine geeks—and it deserves to be all the rage. Also: the fall of the meat-and-three in Atlanta.
Betsy McKay has kept the art of the casserole alive for almost eight years at a refined little spot in Morningside called...Casseroles. I can’t drive past the small easel she sets out on Lanier Boulevard without craving her tamale pie, chicken and biscuits, and eggplant Parmesan. Also: Why restaurant terraces and patios are almost always a bust.
Christiane Lauterbach is embarrassed by the amount of food she sees sent back to the kitchen. "In some respects, I’m still not a wasteful American. I eat the tails of my shrimp. I chew on chicken bones until they are perfectly clean of cartilage. And still, the amount of food I leave behind in restaurants makes me feel like a criminal. I secretly hope that some rodent will enjoy whatever ends up in the dumpster."
First Oriental Market was established in 1984 by Diane Bounngaseng and her family in a ramshackle building plopped in Decatur. It is more than a place to grab some Chinese eggplants. It is always an adventure.
In Atlanta, I worship the housemade versions of spaghetti from the kitchens of Michael Patrick (Storico Fresco), Bruce Logue (BoccaLupo), and Drew Belline (No. 246), whom I call the three kings of pasta. But if there's something that Atlanta can't get right, however, it's baguettes.
I have a secret fantasy: I want to spank waiters. Why? Because wine service in Atlanta, on average, is abominable. Two reasons: First, when you order a bottle, waiters are far too eager to pour through the entire thing when you aren’t looking. Hands off, garçon. I’ll pour my own wine and drink at my own speed.