75 Best Restaurants When we set out to determine who should be included in this year’s 50 Best Restaurants issue, one thing became immediately clear:We needed way more than 50 spots. To properly reflect the Atlanta of today—its many cultures, neighborhoods, and iterations of dry-fried eggplant—a reckoning was in order. But even settling on 75 restaurants was hard. One of the first questions we asked ourselves: Would we drive across town to eat there? In determining the top 10 specifically, we thought less about where we most want to eat when we’re celebrating than where we most want to eat, period. We ended up with a no. 1 pick that’s been open for nearly 10 years yet has never before topped this list.
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As for the 30 newcomers, they’ve been around for as little as four months and as long as four decades, specializing in everything from vegan wraps to modern French cuisine, $1.50 tacos to a $165 tasting menu. And yes, all of them are worth the drive—especially that Oaxacan joint in Suwanee.Edited byContributions from, andVideo of LanZhou Ramen by Cori Carter.
Steven Satterfield dotes on a grouper dish.Photograph by Andrew Thomas LeeAt Miller Union, Georgia native Steven Satterfield gathers every misguided notion about Southern food and tosses them in the compost heap. What’s left: dishes that are understated revelries (that silky farm egg in lush celery cream, oh my) and (see: Seasonal Vegetable Plate). That they’re served in the most unpretentious high-end restaurant in Atlanta—equally suitable for the laziest of lunches or the most special occasion—makes the fried pork chop with creamed greens and the duck breast with hoecakes and strawberry even more exceptional. When Satterfield won the in 2017, he was only the second Atlanta chef in 10 years to bring home the honor.
At Miller Union, he has proudly picked up where his mentor, chef Scott Peacock, left off; Satterfield spent a decade working for Peacock at Watershed, the iconic restaurant that similarly modernized Southern food in that era. With Miller Union hitting the 10-year mark in November, Satterfield and co-owner/general manager/sommelier Neal McCarthy have firmly established their Westside gem as a beacon of Southern hospitality, both in the warm, all-welcoming dining room and in the inclusive, equitable kitchen.
Behind the scenes and on the plate, Miller Union is a vision of an evolving South. Staplehouse is a fine-dining experience as innovative as it is unfussy. That makes it Exhibit A in the argument that Atlanta is finally ready for the kind of cutting-edge restaurants that flourish in other cities: ambitious, purposeful, personality-driven food served in irreverently casual dining rooms instead of on white tablecloths. The eight to 10-course menu, which shifts a little from night to night and more dramatically from season to season, features delicate interludes of decadent proteins, from an early course of king crab mingled with Cara Cara orange, fennel, turnip, sunflower, and sorrel to a subsequent one of cobia poached to the consistency of butter, topped with delicate lettuces and accompanied by curls of crispy sunchoke. But most impressive is what the kitchen, helmed as of January by chef de cuisine Jake Pollitz, does with vegetables. Like executive chef Ryan Smith, Pollitz has deep respect for local growers, allowing him to reap the benefits of our bountiful farms while bucking our deep-fried stereotypes.
A little more than a year ago, the restaurant, which opened in 2015, ($105 for the regular menu, $75 for a four-course Sunday one). It’s the ideal way to experience —and it makes Atlanta’s reputation as a serious food destination stronger, too. The average human tongue has 10,000 tastebuds, and we have discovered a way to stimulate each and every one of them with just two bites of food. The first bite: Masterpiece’s dry-fried eggplant (Eggplant with Chilli Powder and Pepper Ash Powder), which sits at the pinnacle of every iteration we’ve encountered of the beloved Sichuan dish. The exterior is crackly-crisp and salty, the interior creamy and sweet, the level of ma la (numbing spice) precisely calibrated with a liberal but not obnoxious dose of fragrant, crunchy Sichuan peppercorns. The second bite: Masterpiece’s Dong Po Pork, a braised brick of pork belly lacquered in a mahogany-hued glaze that tastes as if it were a syrup extracted from a mythical tree.
The first bite will blow your mind with its electric intensity. The second will transport you to another dimension of taste by simultaneously mellowing and somehow extending the pleasure of the first. Rui Liu, a certified master chef from northeastern China, came to America on an.” Just wait til you bite into the other 125 dishes on his menu. In 2016, and broke all the rules. It was situated practically on top of the railroad tracks in a remote corner of Marietta Square, a destination not exactly known for culinary risk-taking.
The dining room, though upscale, was spare to the point of austerity (and not in an intentionally minimalist sort of way). If the space was unusually small, the menu was freakishly so: four starters, four mains.
So, how is Spring not only open three years later but also one of our top 10 restaurants? The answer is as simple as the decor: chef Brian So’s food. Pappardelle with green garlic cream, morels, fava beans, and Parmesan is a joyous celebration of the restaurant’s namesake.
You’ll also find our favorite fish dish in town: pan-roasted halibut with squash, wax beans, asparagus, and beurre blanc. It might sound basic, but don’t be fooled: Nothing about Spring is as basic as it seems. You don’t have to spend $185 to eat at Sushi Hayakawa, but if you can, you should.
Not only is that your entry fee to the restaurant’s 14-course, two-and-a-half-hour honkaku (authentic) omakase (a Japanese feast in which the diner lets the chef steer); it also gets you front-and-center seats at Atsushi “Art” Hayakawa’s sushi counter. Hayakawa is the most delightful character in Atlanta’s food scene, a master of his craft who’s as skilled at handling fish and rice as he is at charming his guests.
During a recent visit, he greeted a diner and quickly recalled a litany of details about the man’s life. “How long has it been since I’ve seen you?” Hayakawa asked. “Seven years,” the man responded. If you can’t swing the honkaku omakase, where you can choose from a $135 or $95 tasting menu. The former will get you premium nigiri (the fish is flown in from Japanese markets) that Hayakawa gently brushes with his housemade soy sauce—and, if you’re lucky, his signature dish of monkfish liver and scallops.
The three chapters of Bacchanalia say as much about the changing nature of fine dining as they do about the changing nature of Atlanta. In chapter one, Bacchanalia resided in posh digs in Buckhead, then the epicenter of the city’s food scene. Even before the brigade of Atlanta’s high-end restaurants (and high-end everything) began its trek toward less-exclusive zip codes, boldly moving in 1999 to a repurposed warehouse in a then sleepy part of town: the Westside. It was a smart move—the area subsequently exploded in growth. In 2017, ditching its rarefied home for a more relaxed space even farther west. Chef Anne Quatrano and her husband, Cliff Harrison, haven’t merely stayed ahead of the curve—they’ve drawn the curve. And though Bacchanalia’s elegantly simple food—crafted with impeccably sourced ingredients (many of them from Quatrano’s own farm)—hasn’t changed much in 26 years, it’s no less influential.
There’s a reason why chefs at the top two restaurants on this list worked in Quatrano’s kitchen. Bacchanalia has defined the way we eat (and where). Every cloud has a silver lining, even the cloud of smoke that began billowing from the roof of B’s Cracklin’ on the morning of March 6, 2019, when. For better or worse, smoke and fire are integral to. His first location in Savannah also burned down in 2015, and the amount of support he received back then allowed him to reopen in four months. Of course, both smoke and fire are critical to preparing his masterful, pecan wood–smoked ribs (cut from heritage-breed hogs raised in Georgia and South Carolina) and brisket. That barbecue is so persuasive that one bank offered to help fund the resurrection of the Atlanta B’s as soon as possible, the Atlanta Hawks volunteered to temporarily hire Furman’s staff members until he rebuilds, and a Riverside resident raised nearly $19,000 for B’s through a GoFundMe campaign.
Furman and his wife/co-owner, Nikki, say B’s will reopen in a new, larger Riverside location. (Update: In October 2019, the Furmans opened a B's Cracklin' outpost in the new, BeltLine-adjacent Kroger in Old Fourth Ward; a larger, stand-alone B's is still in the works.) Furman certainly isn’t letting the setbacks sour his mood—he’s still got plenty to be thankful for, including recent acknowledgments from the James Beard Foundation and Food & Wine, a personal visit from Martha Stewart weeks before the blaze, and other developments he says will make 2020 “a big year for us.”. The city of Lanzhou is the noodle capital of China, and Buford Highway strip-mall joint LanZhou Ramen is the noodle capital of metro Atlanta. It’s not in every city that you can find, which are nothing short of an art form. You can (and should) observe their creation by gazing into LanZhou’s kitchen through a picture window that dramatically frames the hypnotic act of rolling, stretching, and spinning the cascading tendrils of springy dough. The resulting noodles—or, if you prefer, the thicker, knife-cut ones—show up in bowls of fragrant beef broth brimming with wilted greens and tender meat, or stir-fried with your choice of three spice options: regular, spicy, or laced with cumin seeds. These noodles are so long that your server will arm you with a pair of scissors.
Of course, you might rather just slurp them until the end of time. When wife and husband Nicole Lewis-Wilkins and Chris Wilkins, Charleston’s loss became Atlanta’s gain. In addition to its swoon-worthy bread—made from Southern wheat milled on site—you’ll find daily breakfast, all-day Sunday brunch, and, for lunch, exquisitely simple sandwiches (including roasted chicken with harissa carrots and, as the menu promises, “a lot of herbs”) and more intricate salads (such as one with soft and crispy grains, mustard greens, baby collards, pickled vegetables, green olives, and boiled egg, among other ingredients).
Also recently, and the menu, though compact, is filled with hits, from the Moroccan chickpea soup with saffron broth to the za’atar roasted chicken thigh with pickled turmeric and walnut salsa. It’s our favorite place to eat at PCM—morning, noon, or night. Something had long been missing in East Atlanta Village’s food scene, and that something is Banshee. The is a tiny, highly original operation that transcends genre and remains in tune with its offbeat surroundings. The most impressive thing about the fairly brief menu is the staggering proportion of dishes unique to chef Nolan Wynn—an accomplishment that earned Wynn a from us in December. Who before Wynn has served warm Native American fry bread with pepperoni butter and scallions as a form of exalted bread service?
You’ll be further captivated by the moody vibe of the small dining room, swathed in peacock-blue wallpaper and subway tile and velvet drapes, and by cocktails such as the Stately Hag: a tart and herbaceous mix of reposado tequila, Cocchi Americano, Strega, lemon, and thyme. He’s a Le Bernardin alum who came of age in his immigrant parents’ straightforward Chinese restaurants. And though he’s opened the most ambitious new restaurant Atlanta has seen in several years, that doesn’t mean his rarefied food is short on fun.
In the magnificently transformed Candler Park space that formerly housed Radial Cafe, choose from two tasting menus—seven courses for $125 or 10 for $165 (gratuity included)—or sit on the patio and order from the a la carte “snacks” menu. Hsu’s Steak & Eggs is a nod to his family’s frequent visits to Waffle House, but in his version, a dry-aged New York strip is accompanied by a sous-vide egg wrapped in a wasabi leaf. The menu is ruled by playfulness, down to pastry sous chef Lindsey Davis’s cherry-coconut mousse, which arrives in the form of a giant glistening cherry (complete with chocolate stem). You’ll drop a lot of cash, but even for the money, it’s hard to find a more creative meal in town. In a dusty gravel lot across from a members-only biker bar and behind Rudy’s Auto & Collision, serves some of, among other dishes (including breakfast options; currently, the restaurant is open only from 7 a.m. To 2:30 p.m.). “El Tesoro” means “the treasure,” and the restaurant’s owners have found one in Cristina Lugo Soto, a home cook who hails from the Mexican coastal state of Guerrero and runs the kitchen with her daughter, Mayra.
Soto offers three tamale flavors—pork with green salsa, chicken with chipotle salsa, and rajas with mushroom and squash—and if there’s a more craveable masa in existence, we’ve yet to find it. The tacos come as tacos are supposed to, with supremely flavorful meat that requires no embellishment aside from micro-diced onion, a light shower of chopped cilantro, a squeeze of lime, and, if you must, a streak of one of three homemade salsas.
Before you scoff at the tacos’ $3.25 cost, note that the “burros” (aka burritos) will set you back only $5.75. A taco or tamale and a burro would easily feed a reasonably hungry person, though they might not be enough to satisfy that person’s instant infatuation. Whether you’re looking for pork, beef, or offal cooked over charcoal or—gasp!—gas, Korean barbecue is all over the map in metro Atlanta. Well, some of the map. There hasn’t been much quality Korean barbecue inside the Perimeter since Mirror of Korea on Ponce closed forever ago. D92 changed that. It offers the kind of Korean barbecue that typically warrants a trip to the suburbs.
Plus, there are cocktails (including a Smoky Yuzu Margarita), something most of those other places don’t bother with. Unlike its sister restaurant, the stellar 9292 in Duluth, D92 offers gas rather than charcoal grills. D92’s core offerings otherwise mirror those of 9292, including a quality selection of prime beef and pork.
And in addition to barbecue, there are homestyle dishes, such as beef japchae (stir-fried clear noodles), and trendy ones, including Korean fried chicken, served spicy or soy-seasoned. Five years after they opened, the team behind the now-iconic Decatur oysters-and-cocktail depot launched a second concept. Gracefully situated in the southwest corner of Krog Street Market,. All the seafood, from oysters to crudo to the whole-fish entree, is sustainably sourced from the South. The menu changes frequently, but if the tuna crudo or fish collar are on offer, jump on that.
The cocktail list is the perfect beachy counterpart to Kimball House’s. Be sure to order the Air Mail, and follow it up with a nip of Chartreuse from the shot-dispensing chiller behind the bar. It takes balls—and a stiff drink—to attempt to tell stories with food the way Hemingway did with a typewriter. Chef Pat Pascarella and beverage director Matt Scott go for it, weaving a local-global narrative with their food and cocktail menus.
(The restaurant is named for Papa’s description of a terrifyingly blank page.) Though you might encounter a few recurring characters—housemade sfincione bread, the super-botanical A Pisco My Heart concoction—most of what’s available has changed from the day before, with recipes that could be rooted in Germany, France, Italy, Japan, or here in the homeland. Nevertheless, what you eat is likely sourced from a local or regional farm, which gives Pascarella the opportunity to draft new and imaginative culinary tales—or should we say A Moveable Feast? In 2015, Atlantans fell hard for New Jersey native Anthony Spina’s —and his square, pan-cooked grandma pie in particular. A year later, intowners went into mourning. Now, just steps away from the shuttered location, Spina has returned with Nina & Rafi, but. At Nina & Rafi, Spina’s Detroit pie (thick and square but light and airy) and his Super Margherita (a classic round) are meant to grab the spotlight.: The crust is like a cross between a Sicilian and a cloud, and at its edges, there’s a raised lip of absurdly addictive, burnt-to-a-crisp cheese that will haunt you. This fast-casual, family-run, Oaxacan joint brings serious foodie cred to its far-flung suburban location.
Yes, La Mixteca is worth the. The restaurant’s specialties include all kinds of tamales (perfected by the owner’s mother), some sweet ones and others filled with various meats and moles; ravishingly crisp, giant, blue-corn tlayudas (Mexican pizzas) showered with fresh toppings and housemade sauces; and beautifully deconstructed tamale bowls. The mere sight of the steam table of tamales—with flavors ranging from cactus with cheese to Philly cheesesteak—will set your stomach growling. Mention Floataway Cafe to any in-the-know Atlantan and you’ll be met with lustful moans.
Star chef-restaurateur Anne Quatrano’s, which for more than two decades has resided in an industrial complex near Emory, is so chic it could’ve opened yesterday. Under executive chef Travis Hawthorne, some dishes conjure Greece: fire-kissed tentacles of octopus curled around chickpeas and briny Castelvetrano olives.
Others transport you to Italy: veal meatballs with stout casarecce noodles. The food is both timeless and current—just like Floataway itself. The best table in all of Atlanta is on the covered patio overlooking Canoe’s lush gardens and the languid Chattahoochee. If you haven’t been to the 24-year-old restaurant in a while, —but you might not recall. A California asparagus salad is stunning, served with roasted wheat, preserved lemon, Woodsman and Wife feta, and deviled egg sauce. The earthiness from hearty hunks of Purple Haze carrots is heightened with crunchy hazelnuts and a smear of Moroccan-spiced coconut.
And a special of roasted monkfish with broccoli rabe and fingerlings in a caper vinaigrette is the type of thing we’d like to eat every day—for the next 24 years. Riccardo Ullio’s Inman Park stalwart turns 20 this year, and there’s a reason why Sotto Sotto is about to reach that rare milestone: It’s our most consistent and satisfying Italian spot. Classic pasta options—such as tortelli di Michelangelo Buonarroti, a 16th century recipe of veal, chicken, and pork ravioli in a butter-sage sauce—are the kind of thing you want to eat forever. And we still haven’t found.
In this age of ever-adapting seasonal menus, Sotto Sotto’s mostly unchanged lineup still holds our rapt attention. The ocean-blue and gleaming-white temple known as Kyma, which means “wave” in Greek, is Buckhead Life Restaurant Group’s brightest star.
You can make a feast out of chef ’s nearly two-dozen shareable meze plates—in particular, wood-grilled octopus with olives and capers, white beans stewed with tomatoes, and lamb pie. If you want to splurge, choose one of the $40-per-pound that are so beautifully arranged in the restaurant’s display case they appear to be swimming through a sea of crushed ice. Finish with a honey-laced yogurt showered with candied walnuts. Even before Octopus Bar opens at 10:30 p.m., the night owls will have swooped in to claim their perch.
By 11 p.m., the dining room, which won’t close until 2:30 a.m., will be packed. The food is as unorthodox as the hours, and every bite is worth staying up late for. Of Nhan Le and, Octopus Bar is still the coolest restaurant in Atlanta, and chef Alexander Young’s dishes are as punk as they are pretty: dry-fried eggplant, served skin-on, is seasoned with black garlic oil, and icicle radishes delicately intermingle with tendrils of radish pods atop a sheet of creamy chevre.
There is no better meal to be had in the middle of the night—and few that are better at any time of day. This relative newcomer to the Ponce corridor feels like its been part of forever, and that’s a high compliment. Co-owner Eric Simpkins, a longtime denizen of Ponce, teamed up with Hieu Pham of Buford Highway’s Crawfish Shack and Darren Carr of the former Top Flr to create the perfect concept to fill Top Flr’s void. Bon Ton is as its predecessor, and the Viet-Cajun menu is clever without being too much so: You’ll find ground beef wrapped in betel leaves, seafood boils, oyster and cilantro dirty fried rice, and one of our favorite sandwiches: a Nashville hot oyster roll that’s extra punched up with XO sauce.
Wash it down with a smoked bourbon mai tai or a frozen riff on a Pimm’s cup. Under new, 8Arm has turned over a new leaf. Vega’s food, suits the restaurant’s and its. But in addition to being more deeply plant-based than what came before, these dishes also are influenced by Vega’s cultural background (Mexican) and those of her team (Polish, Bangladeshi, Vietnamese). A plate of oyster mushrooms, served in a beautiful jumble of brassica fleurets, pumpkin seed creme, and chimichurri, is so meaty it could make the most bloodthirsty carnivore forgo steak.
Vega also brilliantly deploys heat against cold: a crisp strawberry and mint salad gets a pleasant jolt from fiery chili oil; the spicy Bangladeshi-style curry poured over whole-roasted trout is countered by cool creme fraiche raita. It’s a marvel that the restaurant continued to push boundaries after chef Angus Brown died in early 2017, a little more than four months after it opened. But with Vega in the kitchen, 8Arm feels new again. Blink and you might miss this small storefront on a mostly residential stretch in East Lake.
Once you’re inside, you’ll find a long, narrow bar that feels like a clubhouse for young, stylish neighbors, whose career includes influential stints at fine-dining bastions Seeger’s (RIP) and Restaurant Eugene. Russell composes marvelous salads (think local lettuces, Manchego, peanuts, and pickled green beans) and elevates peanut butter mousse with olive oil, salt, and peanut meringue—but he isn’t above serving wings and Rice Krispies treats. Argosy is the rare restaurant that does more than it needs to—and does all of it well. It in a large, easygoing nerd paradise where custom-built wooden sea creatures hang from the ceiling and analog parlor games are played in the back. The menu at this East Atlanta Village gastropub offers everything from Shaolin Wings (with Tokyo mayo and purple daikon) to charred octopus (with fingerlings, fennel, and fried capers). The pizza might not be the most name-dropped in town, but the wood-fired crust and Spotted Trotter–sourced toppings make it one of Atlanta’s best.
Argosy also excels in the burger department: The double-stacked Plancha and the Impossible vegan version each are at the top of their respective games. Inside, the clamorous space is as chic as the rest of its Westside brethren, from the hand-painted chinoiserie wallpaper and curved wood bar to the herringbone floors and gallery wall of vintage prints. Buford Highway this is not. Feast on bao stuffed with soft-shell crab, bacon, and sambal mayo, chicken clay pot with crispy rice, and salty-crunchy lemongrass shrimp. And if you don’t order the pho with brisket, flank steak, and beef ball, at least go for the side of pho broth.
It’s the best $3 you can spend on this side of town. There are 40 ounces of kale packed into the Mandingo wrap at Tassili’s Raw Reality, which has occupied the colorful ground floor of a two-story duplex in West End since 2011. Lest you scoff at its $25 price tag, take note that this wrap could easily feed you for three days—and that it’s so magical you’ll actually want to spend three days eating it. What makes it so good?
Maybe it’s the superspicy, soy-marinated kale. Maybe it’s the sweet coconut corn and the couscous flecked with raisins and goji berries. Maybe it’s the sticky-crunchy combination of hemp hearts, almonds, and agave. Maybe it’s the aforementioned magic.
Don’t overthink it. Just patiently wait your turn in the slow-moving line to the counter, and fixate on the beatific diners scarfing down various wraps ($9 to $14 for the normal-sized ones). That will soon be you. Since celebrity chef opened Empire State South and challenged Atlanta’s notion that Southern food is something preciously preserved in the past. A lot has changed since then, but Empire State South remains a destination restaurant in a part of Midtown that has too few of them.
Among its most iconic dishes is the texturally enchanting farm egg on crispy rice with beef and mushroom sausage, shiitake, and corn. Equally seductive are the wine and cocktail programs, each among the very best in the city. The terrace overlooking a bocce court ringed by Adirondacks is a splendid gathering spot for an impromptu al fresco meal or a planned event. In short, Empire State South, no longer trendy,. When chef Robert Phalen opened, Inman Park was a far sleepier place.
The neighborhood has since been transformed by an influx of restaurants, but One Eared Stag’s quiet corner retains its subdued charm. A taxidermied deer (yes, with a missing ear) proudly looms over the handsome bar. In the farmhouse-chic dining room, you’ll find dishes that range from quirky (the ever-changing “dumpster salad” could include bacon, fried bread, and Manchego) to revelatory (Carolina Gold rice comes with pastured chicken, kimchi, and raw egg yolk, and beef tongue pie with black truffle and rutabaga). For brunch, order the off-menu “”: five little dishes (perhaps including a peppery biscuit sandwich and thick-cut bacon protruding from a mason jar of grits) served on a silver platter with a cold can of Schlitz. There is no better restaurant co-owned by a rapper and named for a seminal album—especially if, like the intro track from Ludacris’s Chicken-n-Beer, you prefer your comfort food “Southern Fried.” That the restaurant is is just one more reason to show up to Hartsfield-Jackson early.
Ludacris and his partner, restaurant group Jackmont Hospitality, don’t peddle “airport wings” (the flavorless variety created solely to sustain a captive, security-cleared audience); these whole wings rival those you’ll find at any restaurant in Atlanta, the world’s wing capital. If or when Luda and company decide to expand the franchise beyond Hartsfield-Jackson, and members of the general public have an easier time getting hold of the short-rib mac and cheese, it will be even clearer that this food holds its own against restaurants far beyond Concourse D. Laotian food has long been overshadowed in Atlanta by the cuisine of neighboring Thailand. But with the early 2018 opening of in Doraville, there’s now an excellent representation of the underappreciated cuisine right in our backyard. Inspired by the bright flavors they encountered on a trip to their native Laos, husband and wife Vanh Sengaphone and Thip Athakhanh craft street food–inspired dishes vibrant with heat and acid, including a peerless laap (a spicy and tart meat salad more commonly known by its Thai name, larb) and a sinus-clearing bowl of khao poon (its curry broth, rich with coconut milk, clings to long rice noodles). A second location is heading to the Battery this year. Heirloom is a love story—between its co-owners, and between the homestyle Korean cooking of her childhood and the homestyle Texan cooking of his.
The restaurant did not start out as an intentional crosscultural melange of cuisines. In its earliest days, Heirloom was mostly concerned with straightforward, Texas-style ’cue. As with all great love stories, the passion between miso paste and collard greens or kimchi and coleslaw was almost accidental at first,. Our only gripe is that the mostly takeout operation offers just a few standing tables; this food is too good to rush through while on your feet and too tempting to drive all the way home with. Dave Roberts left fine dining in the mid-aughts to study the finer points of barbecue. Back then, hoity-toity chefs hadn’t begun to launch the kind of barbecue operations that source their meats extra carefully and support organic farms.
Opened in 2009 with several partners in a tight little shopping center near Emory, reliably robust St. Louis ribs, and ridiculously rich. You may want to mix the vinegar-based sauce into the tomato and molasses one—but, as is true of the best barbecue joints, these meats are tasty enough to eschew the sauces entirely. When, formerly of Home Grown, and his wife, Kathryn Fitzgerald Rouse, opened this for breakfast and lunch in 2016, the crowds flocked. They came to the adorable Avondale Estates storefront for fried trout with cheese grits and for vegetables—collards, kale, sweet potatoes—that Hudson grows himself. The restaurant now offers dinner (think pecan-crusted trout with creamed potatoes, green beans, and orange butter) and cocktails.
As the woman sitting next to us on a recent visit told her server: “I’m upset—I’ve lived here for 18 months and only just discovered this place!”. In 2007, twin brothers Jonathan and Justin Fox opened their DeKalb Avenue restaurant. More than a decade later, you’ll still have to wait for a table. The, but just as epic are their over-the-top barbecue offerings: the camp classic served in the actual bag, hickory-smoked jumbo wings dressed in homemade sauce, and a nine-inch, smoked beef rib that looks like something a caveman might devour. The Foxes have built upon their success with a line of barbecue and wing sauce sold at Whole Foods and other stores, a, and a second “” location near SweetWater Brewing. The brothers might be from Texas, but they’re essential architects of Atlanta’s barbecue scene. Located behind a gas station, in a tiny strip mall on the border of College Park and East Point, Don Sige isn’t known for its decor.
Blond wood picnic benches, brown tile, and burnt-orange walls are what you get. The whiteboard menu offers a basic breakdown of the fantastic Mexican food for which the small restaurant is locally renowned. The kitchen is pretty much a flat-top and a fryer, and they’re happy to sell you a cheeseburger. But ignore any misinformed impulses because you’re here for traditional tacos (chopped onion, cilantro, lime, and radish), irresistibly priced at $1.50 each (pollo is great, but chorizo, camarones, and lengua are phenomenal). The spicy salsa verde isn’t complex and doesn’t need to be, and the expertly wrapped burrito and liberally sauced steak fajita are as flavorful as they are unfancy.
You’ll have a hard time spending more than $15, but that’s not to say you won’t enjoy the challenge. Desta is one of at the corner of Briarcliff and Clairmont roads—including the stylish and formidable. Despite the competition, it’s still the best place in town to scoop up kitfo (raw, minced beef seasoned with chili powder and spiced butter) and miser (red lentils stewed with cayenne, onion, garlic, and ginger) using soft, spongy, fermented injera bread. The menu, which allows you to make decisions based on how daring you are, and the tree that rises up from the middle of the covered patio and through its roof makes you forget you’re in the middle of an asphalt sea. Located inside the opulent St. Regis Hotel,: The space is adorned with a rotating roster of art on loan from a $1 billion private collection.
Yes, that’s a Matisse, a van Gogh, a Picasso. The room itself is magnificent and hushed, a cathedral worthy of the works of art on the walls and on the plate. Chef Christopher Grossman previously worked at the French Laundry, and most of his food is simultaneously light (in an ethereal way) and decadent (given his deft use of luxe ingredients). Pillowy mushroom agnolotti is made heavenly with foie gras-enhanced jus and Australian black truffles, and an entree of hot smoked trout with potato mousse, green apples, and celery threads is elevated by a genius stroke of smoked caviar cream. Whether the date night in question is prom, an anniversary, an engagement, or some less monumental event, Aria is up to the occasion., a modern evocation of ancient Rome. The food similarly updates the classics.
Perhaps you’ve had your fill of beet salads, but you haven’t had a beet salad until you’ve had this one; with gold and ruby-red wedges mingling with candied walnuts atop thick, lemony yogurt, the dish is exceptional in its simplicity. Plates are adorned with drops and loops and smears of sauces, and even if that’s not typically your thing, you’ll still be wowed by Aria’s artistry—particularly when the plate holds caramelized scallops with perfect piles of sunchoke, Brussels, and rutabaga. The kind of romance Aria delivers never goes out of style.
If you want to, skip the sprawling menu; the shrimp tempura roll and teriyaki-glazed chicken breast will only distract you from the immensity of chef Tomohiro Naito’s gift for Japanese cuisine. Your best option is to snag one of five nightly spots for Naito’s omakase (tasting menu), which starts at $100 and could include fluke with ponzu gelee and a lamb chop dusted in citrusy, almost minty sansho powder. If you’re not one of the lucky five—or want to drop less cash—simply tell your waitress how much you’d like to spend, and you’ll get a sampling of Naito’s best plates. Your faux-makase could include slivers of superfresh sashimi shimmering in a shallow pool of yuzu ponzu and extra-virgin olive oil and a simple slice of miso-marinated, broiled black cod. Editor's note: Restaurant Eugene closed in August 2019. It will be replaced by another restaurant from the same ownership.
When he opened Restaurant Eugene in 2004, chef Linton Hopkins expanded Atlanta’s fine-dining canon to include food that’s more Southern and farm-driven but equally fancy., even as the restaurant scene here and elsewhere has become more casual, Eugene’s farm-to-white-tablecloth philosophy is no less profound. A late winter dish of local squab got its mineral depth from pan-roasted duck liver, its earthiness from Harukei turnip, its sweet-tart pungency from dried cherries, and its fragrant surprise in the form of lavender. A more recent dish of Grateful Pastures chicken, confit kohlrabi with its flowers, and late-season Mandarin was the edible embodiment of spring. Eugene is a restaurant for all seasons.
The menu looks like a (and is about as long). The space calls to mind a hip food hall with neon lights and yellow-coated, industrial metal stools. And the well-oiled kitchen, a mix of Chinese, Indian, Singaporean, and Thai flavors. There’s not a more craveable noodle dish in Atlanta than the Thai Chili Pan Mee, a bowl of silky flat noodles topped with dried anchovies, ground chicken, shiitakes, spinach, and a fried egg. But if you’re not feeling that, you can choose from more than 60 other entrees, not to mention bao, skewers, roti canai, and two dozen additional snacks. Just off Buford Highway offers at its most comforting: kimchi pancakes, steamed chicken and rice, and bubbling kimchi stew with pork. Most of the regular clientele is more interested in drinking tea than soju, though there are plenty of premium bottles on offer.
And for non-Korean speakers, the menu became easier to navigate last year when it was overhauled with both photos and categories translated to English. You now can more easily choose from “dishes,” “combo,” “side dishes,” “hot pot,” “noodles,” and “pancake”—and you can’t choose wrong. You can fight us on this, but you won’t change our minds that this is. Oaxaca is considered one of the culinary capitals of Mexico, and the Oaxacan specialty that eaters have raved about for years at this Jonesboro gem is the tlayuda: a large, grilled tortilla covered pizzalike with refritos, string cheese, avocado, lettuce, and your choice of meat (pork sluiced in chili is tops). You’ll also discover some of; handmade corn tortillas are folded around delicacies such as stewed beef cheeks, tripe, and pork al pastor. Chicken tamales, flavored either with mole or salsa verde, have a surprisingly delicate texture. Huaraches, the sandal-shaped boats of masa dough, are loaded with rich meat.
No matter what you order—and you should order it all—you can’t go wrong. Korean barbecue is the sum of its parts. At 9292—, including the almost-as-good D92 in Decatur—each part is a cut above: a rainbow of daily changing side dishes (banchan) like pickled radishes and soy-glazed peanuts; glistening slices of marbled brisket, pork belly, and ribeye; charcoal grills (which we prefer to their electric counterparts); and a sleek, industrial space. (As for the name: ) It’s a marvel to watch the servers navigate the labyrinth of semiprivate dining cubicles. Need a water refill? Push the call button, and your table number flashes on a screen near the kitchen. Sister restaurant Table & Main gets more buzz, but these days we’re partial to Osteria Mattone.
Co-owners and siblings and Daniel Pernice are ever-attentive and easy to spot—think the Property Brothers with beards. They imbue the cozy restaurant, housed in, with a familial vibe that feels as genuinely Italian as the menu’s Roman staples. Pasta options (including gluten-free ones) range from plump agnolotti di oxo (braised short rib—stuffed ravioli) to hearty tagliolini Bolognese. For lighter fare, go with the grilled branzino with broccolini and sweet-onion puree. Dividing the casual barroom from the white-tablecloth side is a partially enclosed tasting room, which showcases an award-winning, mostly Italian wine cellar—though our favorite spot is the covered front patio, where you can soak up Canton Street’s convivial energy.
Tasty China was the first restaurant in town to serve undiluted Sichuan cuisine. Back then, in 2006, the kitchen was helmed by the talented and elusive Peter Chang, who ignited a love of ma la (hot and numbing spice) that paved the way for and Gu’s. Without Chang, who’s drawn a cult following to restaurants across the South, the original Marietta location faltered at times and flourished at others. (There are also locations in Smyrna and Sandy Springs, and a Ponce City Market offshoot,.) But Tasty China currently is in superb—if not quite Changian—form, churning out stellar dishes including confit-like fish filets in chili oil and velvety, mild chicken with three types of mushrooms.
Back in 2011, Doug Turbush opened a trailblazing restaurant the likes of which East Cobb hadn’t seen—one with a bright-white, modern, Scandinavian aesthetic, a sophisticated cocktail program, and an idiosyncratic menu. Turbush’s food is mainly modern American but with Southern and global influences. Chicken schnitzel is served with miso mustard, pork-belly sliders arrive on Chinese steam buns, and braised local greens are spiked with soy sauce and chilis. Seed remains the most revolutionary restaurant in the area, and it’s still the best. In 2015, the city fell hard for New Jersey native Anthony Spina’s O4W Pizza—and his square, pan-cooked grandma pie in particular. The Old Fourth Ward location was short-lived , but the concept was not. Spina, with an expanded menu that includes a chicken parm hero on housemade bread and handmade cavatelli.
But the biggest draw remains the game-changing pizzas: classic round pies, thick-crust Sicilians, thick-yet-airy Detroit-style, and,. Thankfully for ITP-ers, you can find most of those pies at Spina’s new spot, Nina & Rafi, which opened on the BeltLine late last year.
If 2019 ends up being the year Atlanta restaurants finally get the respect they deserve, it’ll partially be because of this past summer. Some of the best places to open their doors in ATL in years went live in recent months, and with so many of them being worthy of local and national praise, it’s a great time to live and dine in our city. Eat Seeker isn't just about the latest hot spots though. After we round up the cream of the latest crop, we break down the best restaurants in Atlanta, period - the ones have made eating in Atlanta what it is today. Old and new, here's where to eat in Atlanta right now.JUMP TO:. DowntownTexas and Louisiana unite in Georgia to feed youMaybe it’s “Mexi-Cajun,” or maybe it’s “Texianan,” but whatever you decide to call Dos Bocas, be sure you know it translates to “two mouths,” which you’re going to wish you had when you check the menu of this one-two punch of flavors from the Louisiana and the Lone Star State.
Get a table and stare into the strangely blissful mural of a donkey and a camouflaged cow following an alligator to who-knows-where, and check out the Tex-Mex and Cajun dishes, which include proteins in a variety of options. Your chicken can come as chorizo and three-cheese-topped chicken toluca, blackened in cast iron, or zydeco’d in lemon pepper sauce with white rice and mixed veggies. There are also starters like shrimp, which could be Napoleon (in butter, lemon and worcestershire, with French bread), fried bayou style with Tabasco aioli, or cocktailed with crab meat in lime, tomatoes, and green chiles. There’s gumbo and pozole for soup. There are chicken tinga enchiladas and catfish po-boys. There’s redfish, available with spicy butter sauce and pico on top, or meuniere with red beans and rice.
It’s Southern unity, in a way that now seems strange only for never being considered before.
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March 2023
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