THE CHOCOLATE BAR

She says:
The Chocolate Bar is a welcome addition to Atlanta’s dessert scene, a landscape typified by large, ultra-sweet cheesecakes and candy-topped slices of cake from places like Intermezzo Café and Apres Diem. With a refreshing focus on intense flavors and innovative creations, the Chocolate Bar is a place for the gourmand, not the glutton. Located in downtown Decatur, this sleek café boasts a handsome décor and an eager staff. It’s an ideal place for a first date or girls’ night out (which would probably categorize about 95% of the clientele the evening we visited).

The menu contains some appealing non-dessert items, like curried popcorn and a nice selection of cheeses. However, I had come to a place called “the Chocolate Bar” for one reason and one reason only… chocolate. That said, in terms of the dessert selection, the menu was surprisingly devoid of chocolate. Downtown Boy and I tried the two chocolate items on the menu that night, neither of which provided the decadent, orgasm-inducing experience I was looking for. But, to be fair, we did not sample from the intriguing variety of truffles and chocolates that populate the display counter.

He says:
Unlike Uptown Girl I wasn’t seeking an orgasm, per se, but I was looking forward to a fun and creative dessert. The Oreos and milk fit the bill. Two soft chocolate soufflés freckled with kosher salt sandwiched a white chocolate ganache to make up the “Oreo.” Alongside, an egg-shaped scoop of milk sorbet made up the “milk.” I found the ganache a bit much for my taste unless directly paired with the sorbet to temper its radical sweetness. Perhaps the soufflés should have used more dark chocolate to subdue the ganache? Or maybe more salt could have been sprinkled over the Oreo to hone the dessert’s complexity? The iced mocha I ordered was okay but not as robust as those found in Atlanta’s better coffee shops.

She says:
I sprung for the caramel ganache and chocolate sorbet, since Creative Loafing’s review had pronounced it most suitable for the “rabid chocoholic.” The caramel ganache was excellent… the caramel flavor of the very thick, creamy, goo (for lack of a better word) was intense – sort of like the intensity of a cup of strong, good, black coffee. But sweet. And vaguely chocolatey.

I also tried a sip of a friend’s chocolate martini, which was as rich and chocolately as I could hope for, with a strong alcoholic zing. That’s what I’m getting next time.

She says:
Welcome to Atlanta, Chocolate Bar!



He says:
A little less sucrose, Chocolate Bar!



The Chocolate Bar
201 W Ponce de Leon Ave, Suite C, Decatur, GA 30030
http://www.thechocolatebardecatur.com/index.html

SAGE

He says:
Everything about Sage is rather innocuous. It’s agreeably situated at the back of Decatur Square among a row of other nondescript restaurants. The “upscale casual” interior, full of spacious booths and polished hardwood floors, aims neither to excite nor to offend. The waiters are friendly and competent. And yet, for some reason, Sage’s lack of personality annoys me. I feel this bistro is only a couple of quirky road signs short of becoming an Applebee’s.

The restaurant’s blandness persists right down to the lackluster food. The chicken piccata is tender but completely tasteless, the bold zing of lemon and capers that define a piccata sauce notably absent. The orzo pasta is similarly devoid of any flavor; it’s like munching on air.

She says:
The vegetable soufflé – roasted vegetables and pine nuts stuffed inside a puff pastry – isn’t as bland, thanks to the zesty roasted red pepper coulis that accompanies it. Regardless, it isn’t the most exciting or well-prepared dish I’ve had of late.

We say:
If you’re looking for exciting and exceptional dishes in Decatur … look elsewhere.




Sage
121 Sycamore Street, Decatur, Georgia 30033
http://www.thebistros.com/sage_home.htm

FRENCH AMERICAN BRASSERIE

(photo taken from www.fabatlanta.com)

She says:
There’s nothing like “restaurant week” to suck you into a place you probably never would have patronized of your own volition. Seriously, how could we pass up three courses for $25 at a restaurant whose initials spell “FAB”? We couldn’t, and so we found ourselves downtown at the French American Brasserie, a monstrously large space that seems part French country, part American swank. Maybe this is what they’re going for, given the restaurant’s name, but the mix of affected quaintness and implicit pretentiousness was a bit awkward.

The main drawback of the restaurant week deal was the fact that Downtown Boy and I both ended up eating the exact same prix fixe menu, which limits the scope of our review. At least it’ll be short.

He says:
The first course was a white bean soup with truffle oil, an über-rich soup with the consistency of porridge. It was like drinking a Big Mac, it was so heavy and filling. I remember liking it at the time, but now that a few days have passed I can’t even recall what it tasted like.

She says:
The soup was incredibly rich, and I was full by the time the entrée arrived. The sautéed skate wing, topped with Pantellerian capers and brown butter sauce, was a substantial piece of rich and yes, buttery, fish. It was served with garlic sautéed spinach and new potatoes, both of which were fine and completely unremarkable. Overall, the dish was extremely heavy… probably from being cooked in a lot of butter. It’s not really something you would hope for on a 100+ degree day in August.

He says:
For dessert, the Valrohna souffle cake with hazelnut tuile and vanilla ice cream sounded impressive, but it’s the same old molten chocolate cake that many restaurants are currently serving. It’s a solid performer, but I can’t help but feel the gooey chocolate cake & ice-cream fad has run its course. This is not an indictment of FAB specifically, but rather a plea to dessert chefs across the country to expand their repertoires.

We say:
Note to self: During August in Atlanta, avoid overly heavy cuisine that depends mainly on butter for its flavor.




French American Brasserie
30 Ivan Allen Jr. Blvd., Atlanta, GA 30308
www.fabatlanta.com

ELEMENT

He says:
Element is a “gastro-lounge and food lab” that defiantly treads the razor’s edge between the high and the low. Take the location, for example. Element is situated along the trendy Crescent Street dining district, but it sits next door to an electronics shop that rents A/V equipment (I could see the billboard ad from my window seat). Then take the bathroom. The men’s room sink is a raised glass bowl with a brilliantly polished steel faucet curved overhead like the neck of a swan. It’s a chichi touch you see in expensive restaurants. But the hand-soap beside the faucet is a plastic bottle of Softsoap®, complete with a fashionable purple dispensing head. The lounge’s understated taupe walls and forgettable paintings are far less impressive than the interiors found in other Midtown eateries. And yet while its glamorous Crescent Street brethren churn out staid meal after staid meal, it is Element that is blazing a bold new path through the Atlanta restaurant scene.

She says:
As soon as we were seated, the onslaught began. Before we even had the chance to order drinks, our waiter began to bombard us with plate after dazzling plate of amuses-bouche. Our taste buds were tickled by the “chips and salsa”: a thin, crispy potato chip with a small square of translucent jello on top that, when chewed, dissipated into a mouthful of ripe tomatoes, piquant onions, and fresh cilantro. At least, that’s what it tasted like.

Before we could swallow, a second teaser had arrived… thinly sliced dried chorizo, topped with chorizo powder and nitrogenized chocolate. I loved the combo of the spicy, salty sausage and sweet, yet slightly bitter chocolate.

What came next... Was it the margarita transformed with liquid nitrogen into an alcoholic slushy? Or the “nigiri," a square of sharp cheese (manchego?) topped with a sliver of cantaloupe and beet beads? We were quickly getting a sense of why Element is referred to as a “food lab.”

The mad scientist behind it all, chef Richard Blais, certainly seems to be on the cutting edge of cooking. Using postmodern culinary techniques such as cryogenics and sous vide methods, and combining unlikely flavors like chorizo and chocolate, he is creating a truly revolutionary dining experience at Element. But there was no time to contemplate the hyper-modernity of the food, as the small complimentary plates were still coming…

He says:
The “watermelon caviar,” tiny balls of gelatin infused with watermelon essence, wasn’t as innovative as the chips and salsa. But the next taster—a fluffy nugget of nitrogenized yogurt garnished with salty olive and tangy cherry—was a knockout. With such an original start, we couldn’t wait to see what the kitchen would do with the main plates.

She says:
The summer salad, with avocado and cantaloupe, was just a salad. But our next plate didn’t disappoint. The broiled eel was delicate, slightly crisp on top, the meat faintly sweet and fatty. Served alongside was a horseradish foam and chunks of watermelon, the unlikely combination came together into a zesty, sweet, subtly briny burst.

He says:
The chicken sous vide that followed was a remarkable dish. I’d read about the sous vide cooking method, how items are placed with marinades into a vacuum-packed bag, then cooked in varying temperatures of water for hours, sometimes days, and how this method can maintain, even improve, the integrity of ingredients. But reading about something and tasting it are two completely different experiences.

So often breast meat is overcooked and dry, and even those that are well-prepared have a characteristic toughness that is a by-product of the heating process. But Element’s chicken breast was so soft and tender that I can only describe it as “silky.” The seasonings had penetrated deep into the meat so that every bite was rich with pepper and herbs. Better still, the chicken was paired with zucchini slices fused around a filling to form a pseudo-ravioli. All of this lay over a light green lima bean puree which bore an uncanny resemblance to wasabi and complemented the delicacy of the chicken.

She says:
I’m really not sure what is meant by “carbonized” octopus, but whatever it is, it works. In my experience, octopus – however delicious – is always rubbery, but the carbonized octopus was wonderfully tender. It had been cooked tandoori style and coupled with a zesty chipotle sauce to become, essentially, barbeque octopus. The flavors were great, although I thought the taste of the octopus itself was ultimately overpowered.

He says:
I was still a bit hungry since most of these plates are more like tapas than full entrees, so I finished off with a cheeseburger and foie gras milkshake. The cheeseburger was disappointing, an overcooked burger patty served with blue cheese, though I did appreciate the lowbrow cuteness of the wax paper wrapper (think junior high cafeteria). As for the highbrow foie gras milkshake, it tasted exactly like a milkshake. I suppose that was the point, though I cannot rationalize spending $4 on a shot glass of duck liver milkshake in the future if I can’t taste the duck liver.

She says:
And you can rationalize eating foie gras, period?

For dessert, I had a dense chocolate cake layered with a cherry filling, seated in strawberry water, and topped with basil sorbet. Yum. Strawberry water sounds like something in a dream…

He says:
My vanilla panna cotta with cola-flavored syrup and cracker jacks was satisfying, but overly sweet and not nearly as complex as Uptown Girl’s dessert. Overall, I’d say the desserts at Element still need to catch up with the creativity of the appetizers and entrees. That said, for an extra $18 we could have sprung for the liquid nitrogen ice cream kit…

We say:
Go to Element for the experimental cooking. Go for the unique food combinations. Go for the organic ingredients or the liquid nitrogen margaritas. For goodness sakes, go for the deluge of complimentary tasters—just go!




Element
1051 West Peachtree Street, Atlanta, GA 30309
http://www.elementmidtown.com/