In order to prepare myself, I started watching a lot of competitive reality shows to remind me that good people sometimes don't win, but they're still good people.
I watched every season of America's Next Top Model and Project Runway. But my favorite show was Top Chef. It was the least exploitative and most educational of the lot.
I went through all the seasons and then watched them all again (except for season six which I thought was overly pretentious and boring). As with many shows, the earliest seasons were the best, with season four the best of the bunch. Season four featured the most memorable contestants and, for the most part, they were kind people and good chefs.
It is also the only season, to date, a woman won -- which was a surprise on two fronts because many people thought Richard Blais had it locked up.
Many people go on reality shows and are either easily forgettable or overly dramatic to the point we wish they were forgettable. In contrast, Mr. Blais was memorable for being calm, thoughtful, and clever. With a penchant for molecular gastronomy.
Four seasons later, he was invited back (along with my other favorites Antonia Lofaso, Carla Hall, and Tiffany Derry) for an all-stars season. This time, he rightfully stole the show and we got to see him call his wife, who was all pregnant with their second daughter, to let her know that he is now officially a top chef.
I checked to see how many of my favorite Top Chef contestants I would run into along the way, but the only one that lined up, and the only one I really cared about, was Mr. Blais and his three restaurants in Atlanta, GA.
Coincidentally, I had three days in Atlanta and decided to make the rounds to all three, one each day. Last night, I dined at Mr. Blais's hot dog restaurant, HD-1. Tonight, I made reservations for his slightly fancier restaurant, the Spence. Tomorrow, I'll end my time in Atlanta with a trip to his hamburger joint, FLIP Burger Boutique.
I found the restaurant in the Midtown area of the city. I had scoped out the menu a bit before I left, and I was a little concerned about finding something I could eat, as even some of the desserts contain meat.
I've tried to avoid fancy (read: expensive) restaurants ever since I read Anthony Bourdain's first book. This is the except that stuck with me:
"Vegetarians, and their Hezbollah-like splinter-faction, the vegans, are a persistent irritant to any chef worth a damn.The carrot hot dogs available at HD-1 hinted that Mr. Blais does not share the same philosophy. And as the menu changes daily (and is stamped to prove it) I figured I'd take my chances.
To me, life without veal stock, pork fat, sausage, organ meat, demi-glace, or even stinky cheese is a life not worth living.
Vegetarians are the enemy of everything good and decent in the human spirit, an affront to all I stand for, the pure enjoyment of food. The body, these waterheads imagine, is a temple that should not be polluted by animal protein. It's healthier, they insist, though every vegetarian waiter I've worked with is brought down by any rumor of a cold.
Oh, I'll accommodate them, I'll rummage around for something to feed them, for a 'vegetarian plate', if called on to do so. Fourteen dollars for a few slices of grilled eggplant and zucchini suits my food cost fine."
I followed the hostess to my table and was quickly met by my server who asked me what I would like to drink.
The wine list contains two categories for each type of wine: Tried and True or Leap of Faith.
(This is another example of why I so enjoy Mr. Blais's creations. He tends to create establishments, menus, and dishes that are undeniably refined while at the same time displaying an understated wit.)
I mentioned to the server that there didn't seem to be any non-alcoholic drink options on the menu. Immediately, she endorsed the skill of the bartenders and said it would be no problem for them to whip me up a mocktail.
I have tried many bartender invented alcohol-free beverages and they tend to all be fine. When she brought me the glass, I noticed that the drink was the same color as those that had come before it (pinkish/orangish). But the taste? So much better than anything I'd had before. It was definitely more than just citrus. I reluctantly held myself back from gulping it down and ordering another.
For dinner, I saw four potential options and again consulted with the waitress. She assured me that all dishes were safe and delicious. She also mentioned that the chef would be happy to make me a veggie plate, but there was no telling what veggies would end up on it.
The other reason I try to avoid fancy, fancy restaurants is that they tend to serve fancy, fancy vegetables. When asked what I like to eat, I tend to offer the guideline that my favorite vegetables are those that would be served at an elementary school cafeteria. I like peas, carrots, corn, broccoli, etc. I do not like spinach, mushrooms, Swiss chard, sun dried tomatoes, etc.
As there is no such thing as Kobe broccoli, chefs tend to pull from the latter group. And as I didn't want to risk a spinach encounter, I ordered straight off the menu.
While I was waiting for my meal, I took the opportunity to look around. The gadgets and gizmos Mr. Blais brought to Top Chef were still keeping him company. Several tables around me were brought plates covered in tall glass bells filled with smoke. The server would carefully lift the bell and waft the smoke for full effect.
(I'm sorry, I didn't get a picture.)
I wasn't planning on taking many, if any pictures, although there were certainly other people who did. But there was one I had to take.
Many of the chefs work in the middle of the restaurant in a kitchen area set up with very little separation between it and the dining room. I was looking at what all was going on there, when I had what Kris will understand as a "Look who thinks he's Billy Idol" moment. Except it was Richard Blais (just as it had been Billy Idol).
The man in the grey shirt was none other than Mr. Richard Blais himself. In his own restaurant! Who would have thought?
At least one table asked to have a picture taken with him, but I was satisfied with my picture taken from afar. (I was pretty sure just that was edging on creepy.)
My dishes came with little fanfare, but that doesn't mean they were any less than fantastic. I ordered two side dishes as my dinner: fried Brussels sprouts with an Asian dressing and corn crème brûlèe.
Regarding the corn dish. I have said it more than once before, but why did it take us so long to figure out that we should put wheels on suitcases? For at least the first decade of my life, everyone lugged around their luggage until some genius said, "Hey! Let's throw some wheels on that sucker."
The same must be said about the corn crème brûlèe. Why, oh why, did it take so long for someone to realize that crème brûlèe is ever so much more delicious with corn in it?
I am so thankful that at least one person who figured it out was the someone who owns the restaurant I was eating at that night. Thank you, Mr. Blais for putting wheels on the crème brûlèe.
When the server came over to check on me, I confirmed with her that she hears compliments about the food all the time, but I had to add one more. I told her that I was on a road trip and that the only stops I wanted to make in Atlanta were at Mr. Blais's restaurants.
She you're welcomed me and I went back to giggling as I ate for the second day in a row.
My giggling was interrupted by someone beside me asking, "Hey, how's it going? What's new?"
It was THE chef.
He shook my hand and I thanked him for the marvelous food -- remarking about how difficult it can be to find vegetarian fare. He said it wasn't a problem at all and if he had known, they could have made me a whole veggie feast!
We talked a bit more, I said I'd learned that all of the country is pretty easy to get to -- except for maybe Alaska (because I'd considered including it on this trip before finding out that as with Mordor, you don't just drive into Alaska). But without the parenthetical, I realize it makes little sense and it would have been a whole lot funnier (and sensical) if I had just said Hawaii.
We shook hands a couple more times and he said he'd see me on the Twitter and the Facebook.
I was so smiley, I could barely order dessert.
Again, the server helped me out. The desserts all looked strange and exotic and the safest sounding of all was far from normal.
The blackberry cheesecake was actually a ricotta cheesecake deconstructed into its elements.
I'd seen deconstructed food on the show, but never thought I'd try it myself.
The idea is that the parts are separate, but when combined while eating, they create the flavors of a usually constructed dish.
Scooping up a little bit of cheesecake foam, a little bit of berry, and a little bit of crust crumbles, they formed the entire dessert in my mouth. Lastly, there were teeny tiny mint leaves on top of the foam that could have rivaled Altoids in flavor.
It was an excellent meal, and I highly recommend that anyone with the ability and a love for fine and fun food get yourself down to Atlanta and to the Spence as soon as possible.
___________________________________________________________________________________
I've mentioned some of the downsides of being a woman traveling alone. But one upside is that you're more likely to be asked out by interesting waiters.
As I was waiting for my dessert, a Mekhi Phifer-looking server sidled up to my table and started a conversation. He asked about my necklace (thinking it might be a weird looking snowflake) and when I told him that it is actually a tribute to the three colleges it took for me to actually graduate, he mentioned that he had a similar story. It took something like five colleges before he graduated with a degree in biology and for a while thought he might go on to medical school. Now, he's working on developing a medical device to help people like his brother who have hydrocephalus.
This whole conversation happened in pieces, as he went off to take care of serverly duties and then would come back. After I had finished my dessert, paid my bill, and was waiting to finish my conversation, my original server came over and gave me two delicious little sandwich cookies and a wink.
During another waiting period, another server came over to ask me about my hair. I was so flattered and more than happy to let her in on my secrets.
Eventually, he came back and asked what I was up to after dinner and suggested we continue talking over drinks. I let him know that due to being small and my own designated driver, I would be sticking to mocktails and he said that would be fine.
I made sure someone had his contact information and I waited for him to get off of work. We went to a nearby bar called the Highlander. It very much reminded me of a Portland bar -- except with ashtrays.
He ordered a beer and some food (he said he was starving) and I had my old standby, tonic water with lime (although I think it was actually club soda, so it's a good thing I don't have malaria).
He started talking.
And talking.
And talking.
Then his food came.
He didn't touch it.
He just kept talking.
And talking.
And talking.
By the time the bar closed at midnight, I'd learned quite a bit about him. And he learned that I'm a patient listener.
His conversation at me continued in the parking lot, where I realized that driving red Mazdas might be the only real thing we had in common.
It turned out that along with waiting tables and designing medical devices, he is also studying marketing. And writing software applications. And producing music. And writing. And singing. (He even gave me a CD.)
At one point he gave me a business card that had four whole left to right rows listing his talents.
Being multifaceted is a quality I value deeply, but there's a difference between being well-rounded and having ADD.
I realized that I expect a bit of focus in myself and in my fellas.
We said goodnight and headed our separate ways.
___________________________________________________________________________________
Tomorrow, before heading to Tennessee, I may or may not return to Emory University. But for sure I will be making my third and final stop in this Richard Blais eating extravaganza!
Odometer Start: 39907
Odometer End: 39945
Miles Driven Today: 38
Miles Driven Total: 6107
Today In/Around: Atlanta, GA
Tomorrow: Sevierville, TN
States Visited: 13 (Washington, Oregon, California, Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Florida, Georgia)
Chance I'm Coming Down with a Summer Cold: *achoo* Pretty good
Times I Shook Richard Blais's Hand: 4 (Don't worry, I hand-sanitized right before he came over)
___________________________________________________________________________________
PS: If you would like to experience the server gentleman for yourself, I am not kidding, he is the one on the right.
PPS: Of course, after Tebo the Tooth, Thomas the Crown, Mindy the Molar, and Professor Plaque become the next VeggieTales, I may feel pretty bad about not fully appreciating the gentleman's artistic endeavors.
PPPS: The length of this post in relation to the complaints contained within are not lost on me : )
No comments:
Post a Comment