Restaurant Eugene - Atlanta, Georgia

A hush settles over our usually chatty party of two when we enter Restaurant Eugene. It is a first-floor establishment, but it feels like we descend through the hostess hallway into a darker den. 

"Happy 2nd anniversary!" the menu announces, a pamphlet printed just for us. There are personal touches everywhere we look. 

Starting with a slew of mouth-openers, a list of made-for-everyone items. But even the cheesy, communal, pastry-puff Gougere is so fresh-out-of-oven, it's like the chef cooks for us alone. 

The ingredients are sourced directly from local farms, and the ingredients are assertive when they speak. A Persimmon Puree needs no adornments, and it washes over like a rainy day, hints of olive oil and sea salt in a babbling brook.

Cornbread captures every kernel in an ear of fall-kissed, freshly-shucked corn. Lightly browned and coarsely ground, it is the very heart of the harvest. 

Pimiento cheese and black pepper Macarons. This may be the grossest thing I've ever seen. Except it is not. It is exceptional and unforgettable, a confetti-bomb of black pepper smashing through a sweet shell of macaron, punctuating a sweet-but-salty red pepper paste. 

We immediately decide on the tasting menu after the macaron. It's a no-brainer for me; no way I'd pass up the opportunity to see more from the mind that spawned a pepper macaron. 

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The first course comes, and I know I made the right choice. We start sweet, with a rare fall finding. The local Melon is bold and cold, practically crystallized with lingering summer sweet, icy with early winter's sweat. A ginger snap balances the moist sugar, a creamy buttermilk sorbet enriches the lighter fruit, and a soft, shaved foie gras snow adds a little weight. 

I never even looked up from the Crab Goguette, a rare photo opportunity missed. The crab is mesmerizing, adorned with nutty nuts and a clean mountain apple.

Such creative combos, so carefully crafted. There are few novelties, but the Tilefish is a first for me. A first I won't forget; a stunning filet on pearly display over a forest-green, sea-foam floor.

Onto the land with a simple breast of Chicken. A fried squash blossom adds a jarring, bitter finish to an otherwise-seamless square, an icy blast against the gooey-warm spoon bread, a corn pudding thickened by foie.

Carnage. That's what this is. The aftermath of the beautifully-presented chicken when I finally looked up between bites. I promise it's prettier when it's not half-eaten. 

It is a rare meal that makes me forget to take two photos. My fork is glued to my right hand during every meal, but my camera is usually glued to my left. I offend the old-school folks with my phone, I burn out unsuspecting retinas, and I annoy those who wait for me finish with photos before they're allowed to eat. This is how focused I am on the food. 

Even I need a break after all this extravagance, and reprieve comes in the form of a palate-cleanser drink, liquid sunlight with a pinch of fruit. I don't remember what was in it, but I do remember it dancing a soothing salve onto foie-burned tastebuds.

Fruit paves the way for Georgia Gold, a local cheddar. It is a light-hearted cheese compared to its stiffer Vermont counterparts. It pairs with persimmon puree and yet another ginger snap.

The Port is one of few non-local items on the menu, and it's one of my many guilty pleasures. This Portugal tawny tastes like the sweetest sin.

Sweet sin has a tart contrast in cool Grapefruit Sorbet, buttered up by peanut streusel.

Then there is the decadent finish. A charming dollop of Chantilly cream sits suspensefully over a lustrous Chocolate Ganache, The texture is plush, a velveteen conclusion over a tongue that longs for closure.

Alas, the creativity has not come to close. There is a fluffy Fennel Marshmallow just for fun, flanked by a few tamer tidbits, a Pecan Cookie, a Chocolate Financier, and a cube of Jellied Persimmon.

Restaurant Eugene is awesome! Original, with abundant character, inspiring with its vision, Restaurant Eugene captures the very soul of the city it represents, and I could not have dreamed of a better way to end our adventures in Atlanta.