Boiling Point UPDATE - Gardena

Two words: Quality. Control. 

I love trying new restaurants, but it only takes a single dish to ruin a date. If I'm going to spend the money, I like to know what I'm getting, and that's not always a given in Gardena.

Boiling Point has a built-in code of consistency, an idiot-proof system that assures you get the same stuff every time. 

Each pot comes pre-mixed, and the proportions are always balanced. The Beef is the most neutral, with thin slices that stay tender if you don't let them stew too long. Napa cabbage, Tofu, and mushrooms are a fail-proof veggie mix, and there are meatballs and crab sticks for a little something extra. The medium spicy broth is a generically good soup, but it gets hotter as the broth boils off. Get it mild to avoid the sweaty nose and fiery tongue if you're a lightweight like me. 

The Thai Flavor is a huge pot, a large and in charge tom-yum-esque, sweet n' sour sea. Sizeable half-crabs and calamari rings make a festive shellfish stew.

I love trying new restaurants, but the middle-of-the-pack hot pot list is overwhelming. No doubt I'd find a few gems if I look hard enough, but it's hard to argue with the comforting consistency of Boiling Point. You know what you're getting, and it's mostly pre-cooked which probably prevents food poisoning. If you're okay with having no control over the quantity of ingredients, and you just want a standard hot pot for not-too-much, Boiling Point really hits the spot.

The Standing Room - Redondo Beach

I don't get it.

I suppose the location is exciting...weaving through bodega-style shelves, reading a chalkboard in the light of a freezer full of Red Bull and walking past the pork rinds to order your burger.

We spent forever deciding on the one with Korean beef on top only to be told they didn't have it. The kitchen is cold and there's a single cook who doesn't seem all that interested in anything we have to say. 

So we got the Dressed Burger to go...because there's nowhere to sit (shocking!), and we unwrapped the juicy giant in front of the TV with a DVD and a couple of beers.  

That's when everything changed. The bun was toasted, and the beef patties were thick. They are loaded with chewy bacon, soft caramelized onions, a light spring salad, and the essential bleu. Enough is enough, but the yolk runs out of a fried egg, into tart tomato jam, and smoked gouda with gooey aioli really takes it over the top. 

The truth is, the burger is really greasy. But it's a the very definition of burger, dressed up with a lot of designer ingredients and a spunky side of Truffle Parmesan Fries.

Sit-down, ritzy night out it is not, but in the right setting, with just the right mood, the could be the only thing you need that night. 

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.

Legal Sea Foods - Atlanta, Georgia

I think I am a terrible person, a horrible human being. I have my one-track mind, and sometimes it's just inappropriate. Today, at the breathtaking Georgia Aquarium, my mind is acting up again. We saw a dolphin show that kept us on the edge of our seats, we watched penguins waddle up close, and we witnessed a majestic whale shark swim overhead, among the graceful wings of giant manta rays. 

We left the aquarium wanting for nothing. It's hard to argue with so many exhibits AND a 3-D theatre adventure.

Except I'm hungry. Not from all the walking or from not eating but because we walked by some giant spider crabs. Everyone marveled at their size while I sized up their legs. The tropical shrimp are a colorful collage of dignified stripes. I wonder how such a world of color could exist, and I wonder how easy they are to peel. 

The next logical stop is Legal Seafoods, right next to the parking garage, a New England classic that has yet to make it to the west coast. Sure, it's a chain, but the quality is guaranteed, and a Shellfish Platter is exactly what a selfish me is craving. It has a little bit of everything, jumbo cocktail shrimp that are fresh-caught tender, buttery oysters, briny clams, and even a bit of lobster. 

Paired with a flight of "Great Shellfish Wines", the platter gives way to a neutral riesling, a dry sauvignon blanc, and a just-as-dry Sancerre. I'm not a fan of whites, but this flight is neutral enough for even the reddest of palates.

I didn't appreciate Legal Seafoods when I still lived in Boston, but absence makes the heart grow fonder. And there's nothing like an east coast oyster!

Cook-Out - Atlanta, Georgia

Two birds, one stone. Day-drinking at Red Brick Brewing, Georgia's oldest brewery wouldn't be complete without some old-fashioned fast food. Cook-Out is the oldest fast-food my body knows, and it's pure gastric nostalgia. Cook-Out is confined to the south, and I haven't seen it in years! It takes me all the way back to my collegiate glory-days when my practically-adolescent body could burn off an entire Cook-Out tray in under an hour.

The best tray is one that combines all the classics. The Spicy Chicken is hot-breaded and delightfully fried, but it doesn't burn like it used to. It's best when combined with corny Hush Puppies and their Chicken Nuggets. Both come with a signature coat of grease. There is not a single thing that's not fried, and that's how it should be.

What do you call cheese that belongs to someone else?  Na-cho cheese! Call that burger Cheddar Style all you want, but it's really just covered with a volcano's worth of melted artificial orange. They drizzle it generously like a lava-burst over expertly-caramelized onions that are surprisingly very well-made.

Wash it all down with a Peanut Butter Milkshake or my favorite Strawberry Cheesecake Milkshake, because there's not enough dairy in that burger. The ice cream is so thick you have to use a spoon until it starts to melt. Don't like either flavor? No problem. Choose something else from the board - you have at least another 30 other flavors to peruse. 

Strangely enough, my stomach doesn't even put up a fight. It almost hungers for this kind of food after so many years of organic and gourmet. It embraces this American pastime, the drive-thru, never mind that this one has indoor seating. The face of fast food has changed so much since the first time I raced through Cook-Out with a brand new license and three friends in tow. With all the stink over grilled salads and McCafe, places like Cook-Out are facing extinction. But I hope they survive, and I really hope they thrive!

The Highlander - Atlanta, Georgia

From fine dining to dive, the Highlander is quite a step down from the manicured walls of Bacchanalia...

Except it isn't. It's actually great, no facetiousness, I swear. It is a den of creative expression, proud of it's non-conforming, common-ground for the common-man appeal. And it's beautiful. Wallpapered with art for sale, all sorts of graphic masterpieces, the walls speak of the inner workings of so many beautiful minds, all clashing cohesively. 

The menu features some rarer beers, but I'm too hungry to care. An IPA from Wicked Weed of Asheville, North Carolina from the featured menu is fine by me. I know it's 11 AM, but it's 5 o'clock somewhere.

The menu is actually impressive. All the best of the bar food/gastropub grub, but there's a great range of things, including several types of wings. Our Jerk Wings match the bohemian vibe, laid-back wings with kickin' spices clinging.

The soup of the day is a Crab Bisque, and it is hitting my seafood sore spot like a carnival hammer hits the high striker. The soup is smooth, the creamy texture tempered by shreds of crabmeat. It's been decades since I've had a really good crab bisque.

Beef Stroganoff. Seriously. Yes, seriously. Seriously satisfying egg noodles coated just lightly in cream, interspersed with tidbits of mushrooms and very tender beef. I could use more of that cream-goddess sauce, but it's hard to argue with a dish where the beef is even softer than the mushroom.

The term "dive bar" means so many things, but I wish The Highlander would stop referring to itself as such. It's so much more than that. It's a place with character, a safe space for all sorts of expression, a place where anyone can come as they are. Plus, there's really nothing divey about them. Their beer list is incredible, their food is great, and the ambiance is truly one of a kind. "Atlanta's best bar," their menu says. Now THAT is an accurate description.

Bacchanalia - Atlanta, Georgia

Every city has its specialties, but you'll never try them all in one trip. Quality-over-quantity is the key when there are so many specials and so little time. In a city like Atlanta, you could probably eat for a month and still feel like you're missing out.

I did my research, but the decision wasn't easy. There are thousands of lists, and only a handful are reliable. I sort and I filter; I debate and I contemplate. No matter where I looked, all lists lead to Bacchanalia. Bacchanalia is the best, they boasted. It is as classy as it is classic, the menu is marvelous, and the service is the stuff of legends.

I would not contest a single word. Bacchanalia has a timeless beauty, a studied intimacy in a side-open space. Mood-lit and luxuriously simple, with servers who practically sing when they describe the dinnertime delicacies that change a little every night.

The amuse bouche is a tomato and thyme Financier, a fancy name for a muffin. It is a deceptively simple dot of tangy, sun-dried tomato infused with a sharper sprig of thyme. It's a small bite for sure, but it's surprisingly stimulating; the herbaceous finish opens the palate for the courses to come.

If I could make vegetables taste like this, I would never eat meat again. A hollowed-out Chilled Carrot nubbin is so absolutely satisfying, filled with a refreshing beet puree. It tastes like the very essence of the earth itself, and it washes down with a waterfall of warm Carrot Soup.

You can't go wrong with the Crab Fritter. It is literally a breaded, fried ball, filled with crab. The crab is soft and sweet, the salty breadcrumbs crunch and crackle. I would have been fine with just this, but the smooth avocado puree takes it up a notch, and the bitter tang of grapefruit adds playful notes to an otherwise-serious shellfish.

Veal Sweetbreads. I couldn't resist. They come simply, sauteed and separated into tiny lobules that leave a lasting impression. The texture is almost like fatty foie, but the granules are thicker, like a most scrumptious savory pudding. The roasted garlic really rounds out that savor, and the chanterelle mushrooms finish like a velvet touch.

I couldn't resist the Warm Maine Lobster either. Literally an entire lobster, shelled and served three ways.The tail is in its purest form, hint of celery, essence of almond. The claws are a progression, smeared with a creamy sauce. The rest of the claws stew in a heavier cream, variations on a succulent theme.

The Maple Leaf Duck made it a surf n' kinda-turf, a thick, dry-aged breast pontificates on the palate like a gamey poultry-steak, sweetened by apple, anchored by winter squash.

The cheese course is a breath of fresh air, a palatal reset after the savory storm. Capra Gia is a sweet n' salty, creamy goat. The cheese is a downpour, encapsulating earthy beets that taste like sunshine after the rain.

A Maplebrook Farm Burrata is served with sweeter accompaniments, a jelly-quince of apricot makes a fruit mash-up over an almond cookie.

Hot Chocolate is their cheese-chaser, a decadent almost-fondue in a flavor-shot.

I was thinking pecan pie when I ordered the Pecan Crepe, but it's actually reminiscent of a more refined Pecan Spinwheel, a la Little Debbie. The crepes are thin and soft, stacked in infallible layers. The sugar is stingier than my favorite after-school snack, and there are freshly-candied pecans crushed into every floaty layer.

Pecan then apple: fall flavors that never fail. The Caramel Apple Souffle is so much rich in a single ramekin. The souffle is so fluffy, it's apple-flavored air. The caramel hints melt into each bite, and I swear, before that butterscotch ice cream, no better pairing ever walked this earth.

After-dessert sweets are simple in their perfection. A Macaroon is a labyrinth of twisted, toasted coconut, a creamy Dark Chocolate Truffle takes us by storm, and a perfect butter-cake Madeleine takes the cake.

I am satisfied, I am excited, and most of all, I am enchanted by Bacchanalia. The old-world sophistication, the new-world fusion, the inescapable charm and indulgence of what is clearly one of Atlanta's crown jewels is beyond description. I am blown away by this experience, and I can only hope that a tailwind will one day blow me back.