Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Goat Cheese Omelet, Make-Do Fruitcake Cookies and Snow Day Spinach Soup

It's been another unprecedented snowed-in day in glorious, icy Marietta, Georgia, where 2 nights ago about 7 inches fell and has since turned to ice, trapping us all in our homes.  "Snowmaggedon" is what the cool kids are calling it.   I like to refer to it as "The Great Cabin Fever Food Binge of 2011."  I'm pretty much cooking and eating and then sleeping it off.  Actually, I've gotten a lot done around the house today as well.  I even ironed if you can believe it.  And tiled 90% of my fireplace.  I'm a few damn tiles short.  And I measured and everything!  Luckily I used some sticky-back adhesive instead of the traditional mix kind, so you can tile at your convenience.  I ran out of that stuff, too, dang it!
Pretty cool, though, right?  Sale tile, too.  Hopefully I'm going to replace the brass-framed doors with something vintage at some point.  As you can see, I've started painting them.  Twice.  Just ignore that whole part.

 So, to kick off my day of cooking, this morning I made a delicious omelet with onions, zucchini, bacon, herbes de provence, and goat cheese.  Regardez:

So good.  I make a damn fine omelet.

A few hours later, my sweet tooth kicked in.  I was going through my pantry and found a big thing of candied fruit for fruitcakes that I bought a last month, and it made me want fruitcake cookies.  After scavenging around online for a recipe, I found Pioneer Woman's awesome blog.  Her fruitcake cookies involve A CUP OF BRANDY plus more added on top after baking.  It's baking for lushes!  I like it.

 (Photo courtesy Pioneer Woman)

I need to just call my Nana, though, because her fruitcake cookie recipe is amazing. I don't have eggs, however, so those cookies ain't gonna happen.  Although I got creative with what I had and made these:


That's fruitcake butter wedged between two Moravian cookies.


Fruitcake butter is softened butter creamed with vanilla extract, a dash of whiskey, brown sugar, maple syrup, chopped nuts (I used walnuts and hazelnuts) and fruitcake mix.  I just made it up.  It doesn't look all that pretty, but it tastes amazing (As you can see from my tastes and my photos I still have not let go of Christmas yet, apparently.)  I used a very fancy $2.99 fruitcake fruit mix from Walmart that comes in a plastic container and contains high fructose corn syrup.  Like I said, it's pretty fancy.

So, after all that sugar, I kinda crashed and had a crazy-dream nap in my way too hot room, for which I am thankful.  Some Atlanta folks ain't got power right now, I hear. 

And then I woke up, hungry again, and decided to tinker with Pioneer Woman's Spinach Soup recipe.

This is how it turned out:



It tastes amazing, kinda of like a loaded baked potato soup, with spinach instead of potatoes.  My recipe is pretty close to Pioneer Woman's, but I changed it up a bit.  I don't measure exactly, so all of my amounts are assumed. 

A few big handfuls of (organic) spinach
2 tbs olive oil (The darker the better, in my opinion)
About 1 1/2 cups water or so
1 tbs Better Than Bouillon Vegetable Base
1-2 tbs butter
2 tsp minced garlic
Half an onion, chopped
2 slices cooked bacon, crumbled
1/2 tsp Roland Black Truffle Cream (optional)
1/2 tsp Herbamare Seasoning
1 can cream of chicken soup
a few kicks (technical term) of hot cayenne pepper sauce
Sour cream
Shaved Gruyere cheese
Fresh ground black pepper

Saute the spinach in olive oil in a soup pot.  I used a great vintage enamelware pot that I scored at an antique store.  Once spinach is wilted nicely (not too much, not too little...I dunno, it's just one of those things.  You don't want it raw, you don't want it browned) place in blender with a little bit of water and puree.  Okay, before you put the spinach back into the pot, saute the onion and garlic with some butter and Herbamare and saute until browned a bit, then add the truffle cream.  Now add pureed spinach, the rest of the water and the vegetable soup base, stir and heat.  Then add the can of soup, the bacon, a few dashes of hot pepper sauce, and heat until, well, hot!

Serve with dollop of sour cream, shaved Gruyere, and fresh ground black pepper.  So. Good.

This soup could be done with peas, leeks, mushrooms, potatoes, tomatoes, corn, broccoli...cornucopia of possibilities, really.  I'd love to do a chestnut soup, too, mmmmmmm...

Maybe I'll actually be able to use a vehicle and drive tomorrow.  And go to WORK! The horror.
Night night, y'all! 


Thursday, April 8, 2010

TOP DRWR at TOP FLR

I haven't been to TOP FLR recently, but I thought I'd do a quick review on it since it's one of my favorite spots in the city.  First, let's talk Sandra Lee's favorite subject: COCKTAIL TIME!  Sandra Lee is a hot mess who loves her cocktails and her Kwanzaa cake.  I'm not a huge cocktail person myself, but I can be swayed to the darkside of syrupy drinks that cost more than my wallet if they sound good enough.  And gee whiz just listen to how this sounds--The Nature Boy: Hayman's Old Tom gin, Creme de Violette (Birthday idea! I need a bottle of this stuff), basil, lemon, and soda.  It's just amazing.  The other one I ordered was the Sloe Apricot Manhattan, but I couldn't discern any apricot flavor.  It just tasted like a girly drink.  Not worth the money.  The Nature Boy on the other hand, was an experience.  Universe, I would like a nature boy to bring me a Nature Boy.  In a field.  By a creek.  With a tent.  Thank you.

Food at TOP FLR is TOP DRWR like Bunny Bixler.  This is supposed to be a short-ish review so I'll just give you a run-down of the dishes I've tried, and they are titled like you will see them on the menu and website:

Tuna Tartar, Sardinian Flat Bread, Thai Miso Pesto, Avocado, Lime Aioli  --  It's so hard to share this with people.  It makes you want to tell your friends to go away.

Mixed Greens, Berries, Chevre, Honey Lavender Dressing  -- Really tasty.  How can you not love anything honey-lavenderized?  The berries contribute to the almost candy-ish flavor of this salad that goes nicely with the tangy, salty chevre.

Crispy Duck Breast, Fennel Salt, Vermouth Honey  -- I get food descriptions stuck in my head often, kind of like song lyrics.  "Crispy duck breast" and "vermouth honey" are often on the broken record playing in my brain.  It's a beautiful dish.  Crispy duck fat is divine.  Oh, and this dish inspired the Christmas presents I gave to everyone last year--I made my own fennel salt.  You take fennel seeds and sea salt and mix em and put them in a nice little mason jar with a tag with recipe ideas.  FANCY.

Mussels, Coconut Lime, Soy Broth --  This dish tastes very Thai and it's pretty yummy, the bread and the broth was delicious but the mussels were on the sandy side.  Hopefully that was just a fluke.

Crispy Spaetzle, Wild Mushroom Medley, Roasted Shallots   -- I had a bite of my friend's and thought it was eh, pretty good, but then a week later--BAM!  Spaetzoozled!  I started craving it in an insane kinda way.  Sometimes flavors sneak up on you like that.  I made my own and it was pretty darn good and it hit the spot, but TF's is the jam. The spaetzle are crispy on the outside and spongy on the inside, which is a pretty incredible texture sensation combination.  The tiny mushrooms add a delicate texture and earthy flavor and brown butter rounds everything out.

Hanger Steak, Ginger Jus -- This is delicious, especially if you order it the way my friend did: "Medium PLUS."  I don't know what that meant, the waitress didn't know what that meant, and I'm not sure the kitchen knew what that meant, but it came out really good.


Well, that's my attempt at a short review.  Short PLUS.

674 Myrtle St.
Atlanta, GA 30308
404-685-3110


Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Honey, I need your tie. And your boxers. For Jesus.


Click on the link above and Martha will tell you all about it.  Isn't that incredible?  I had no idea.  They are so gorgeous and I'm gonna run to the thrift store this week and buy some old silkies and try them out.  You probably shouldn't eat the eggs, although my dad would probably try to anyway.  He remember him eating pink glittery eggs I decorated as a kid.  

I'm excited to cook this weekend for Easter Sunday at my uncle Will and aunt Michelle's house.  I'll be doing a new take on deviled eggs, some sort of green beans, and maybe a nice salad...I'll be good and take pictures and supply recipes.

Also, Passover starts tonight, and since I grew up with two Jewish best friends, I came to love Charoset, which is a mixture of apples and various other ingredients that can be tweaked to your preference, like honey, dates, nuts, and spices, all chopped up and mixed together with sweet wine.  I think I'm going to whip some up tonight, let it meld in the fridge and then eat it with matzah all week like the two-timing shiksa I am.

Monday, March 29, 2010

Recipe Junky

I love looking at new recipes because, if you don't already know, I not only love to eat but I love to cook.  I thought I'd share some with you and also document them for myself.  Now, one thing to know is that I love all types of food:  regional, fancy, cheap, rich, simple, inventive, classic, weird, boring, whatever.  So the recipes you will see on here will run the gambit.  Let me know if you try any.

Savories:

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Another Girl, Another Planet Bombay



This video is of a hit song called "Another Girl, Another Planet" by the British band The Only Ones (BTW, John Perry is my penpal BFF. No, really.) More importantly, it's an appropriate segue into my new blog entry, the first in almost two weeks. I haven't posted in a minute because things have been a little crazy, and then I got THE COLD that apparently everyone in the metro Atlanta area either had, has, or is about to have, so I kind of feel like I've been on another planet. I'm a little less crazy-sick now and am in the functional-but-hacking-till-I-cry-stage. But that did not stop me from eating Indian food at Planet Bombay with my friend Cristen today.

Since I'm sick, I wanted to eat something spicy, so that I could actually taste it and so that hopefully it would clear my sinuses or somehow make my throat feel better...by...I don't know...irritating it...anyway, I wanted spicy Indian food, which really hasn't been on my list of foods I want to write about, so I didn't go into this experience expecting to get a blog out of it, just a burning nasal cavity and a numbed throat. My experience in the past with Indian food has been really good, but not exactly inspiring. Planet Bombay was another beast altogether, a friendly, delicious beast. It's a place I've driven by hundreds of times over the years, across from Junk Man's Daughter in Little Five Points, but never been inside.

Today we ventured beyond the facade and it was lovely inside. A very beautiful young Indian woman politely took our tame appetizer order of samosas and soon brought out the lovely fried triangles filled with vegetables and a ridiculously good cilantro chutney (likely cilantro, mint, garlic, chili, and ginger) that came in a much too small cup. They should really up that to a soup bowl size. It looked slightly frothy, meaning freshly pureed. I usually prefer some kind of mango dipping sauce but this is my new favorite.

We noshed and read the dinner menu, which is full of delicious sounding descriptions, like Pasanda curry ("North Indian mild curry marinated with yogurt, garlic, ginger and chef special spices. Also cooked with almond, cream, and slice of pineaples [sic]." (I love menu misspellings. It's endearing.)

All entrees can be made with chicken, beef, shrimp, lamb, OXTAIL (how I love thee), and my favorite, goat. Yes, goat. I love goat. It's fatty and tender like oxtail, but with a flavor that can only be described as...goat-y. If you like goat cheese, then you know what I'm talking about and I bet you'd love the meat. You'd never look at a goat--or smell a goat--and think it would be so tasty. Boney, but tasty. Seriously, chew carefully. I've bruised a molar on a little bone I missed before. Don't let this deter you though, it's delicious.

We ordered the Bhuna Curry ("East Indian’s favorite brown & thick curry sauce cooked with fresh garlic, ginger, tomatoes, onions and green pepper") with goat meat. I wasn't sure what to expect but it sounded good. I ordered it at a level 3 hotness, which I think was "Fairly Hot." 3 was good, but next time I'll try 4 (it goes up to 6).

In short (and in caps), BHANA CURRY IS AMAZING. It was the best Indian food I have ever eaten, and completely a surprise from what I was expecting, which was the traditional curry I've had before, with that overpowering yellow blend of turmeric and cumin. It was redder and sweeter than I expected, and now that I look up the ingredients of Bhuna curry, I know that what I was tasting was an incredible mix of tamarind, coriander, chili, paprika, cardamom, ginger, cumin, turmeric, tomato, onion, and green pepper.

I'm craving more of it right now and likely will all the time until I return. It was served with great basmati rice and some perfectly grilled garlic naan we ordered on the side. We requested more of the amazing green chutney and were given that plus a yogurt-mango sauce free of charge.

We were so stuffed when we left, and we still had enough to bring a to-go taste for Jane. The price of the 2 waters, 2 samosas, garlic naan, and Goat a la Bhuna? $20 (+ tip) and worth every damn penny. I even forgot about my cold for awhile.

So Planet Bombay, this song's for you--in the words of The Only Ones:

I think I'm on another world with you
I'm on another planet with you

You always get under my skin
I don't find it irritating
You always play to win
I don't need rehabilitating...

Planet Bombay
451 Moreland Ave NE,
Atlanta, GA 30307
Phone: (404) 688-0005 

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Signora Mayes, Papà, Me, e una pizza


On Tuesday my dad invited me to attend a free lecture by "Under the Tuscan Sun" author Frances Mayes at the Atlanta Botanical Gardens. Neither of us have read her books, but Dad seems to think we might be related because of some Mayes in our family tree, so we're practically family. And we like Italy, and it was free, and a good excuse to get out and do something fun together.

Mayes was warm and charming for the mostly over-50 crowd, and does not look like Diane Lane remotely, but maybe looked a little like my dad's side of the family. I kept imagining she was looking at me and thinking we looked related, and it made me feel like a hillbilly trying to make contact with my rich and successful relatives, so we didn't stay after to meet her or anything, although I'm sure she now considers it a missed connection.

Anyway, listening to her inspired me to keep writing, so that maybe someday I, too, could have two houses with large kitchens and hidden frescoes in Cortona, where I count my money and make homemade wine and people scream "Manga!" at me all the time and feed me Etruscan bistecca (this future awaits most writers, right?). I think Cortona means "beautiful land of steak so bloody, it's practically illegal," at least that's what it means to me. I was lucky enough to go when I was 16. They even have a steak festival for chrissake. You can cut this steak, which is massive--the size of a small cow--with the side of your fork. It is is so tender, with flesh like butter--beyond rare, not tar-tar red, but a bright pinky crimson surrounded by a perfect deep brown crust. And salty. I loooooove salt. I will one day do a blog entry on salt alone, with pink salt, smoked salt, maybe some...black truffle salt. Yeah, you heard me. (For the record, my blood pressure is 110/70. Here is an article about how salt gets a bad rep and why you shouldn't be scared of a little delicious and mineral rich NaCl).

Mayes told many funny stories, one of which about an American woman in her Tuscan town who liked to go to the butcher to order what she thought was Prociutto without preservatives: "Vorrei un Prosciutto senza un preservativo, per favore," she would ask. What she was really saying was "I would like a ham without a condom, please." That got the big laugh of the evening. It also reminds me of the most wonderful graffiti I've ever seen, also in Italy. Spray painted in English across a brick wall at an outdoor train station, behind an 80-year-old nonna waiting for her train, was "Condom is my life!" and a giant cartoon prophylactic.

Anywho, after all that I-talian talk, we decided to hit up a pizza place on Hemphill we've both been reading about, Antico Pizza Napoletana. People rave about this place and it's the new hotspot to give Varasano's, which I've yet to try, and Fritti (which I love, usually) a run for their money. I was a little worried they would be closed already as it was nearing 9, and Antico doesn't have a set closing hour--they close when they are out of dough. But we were in luck.

Upon entering, you can see refreshingly non-standard seating (well, standard Italian maybe, but not standard American). There is a small room next to the ordering station, with shiny terra cotta tiles and imported Italian products Warhol-esquely lining the walls; in the middle there is a massive wooden slab table with about 10 stools around it. And like, strangers. Sitting at the same table. Together. Co-manga-ing. I was kind of excited and a little nervous and shy all of the sudden, like the first day of school. If you peak around the corner into the kitchen, there are also tables in there, all filled with a mostly college crowd; it's a very different kind of ambiance of a large, open, non-fancy white-walled kitchen, cooling racks all around, flour-covered chefs in neck scarves and t-shirts, the clang of pots and pans, florescent lights, and apparently, and oddly, a small black light, causing a few shirts to glow loudly. While that does sound like a party and a half, we stuck to the more rustic room.

We were greeted with two young women behind an ordering counter saying "Buona sera!" in very American accents, which was equal parts cute and annoying. The menu is pretty limited, especially considering the menu at Fritti, but more traditional, and not disappointing. Traditional Margherita, of course; the Marinera, with oregano and white anchovy; the Bianca, a white four cheese, one of which is the poetic fior di latte, flower of milk; the Capricciosa, with mushroom, artichoke, and prosciutto, the Diavaola, with sopresseta and pepperonata, along with a few more, and some calzones, including the delicious sounding Gigiotti, which is what I would name a calzone if I named one after myself, topped with broccoli rabe and salsiccia sausage.

We both wanted the pizza with white anchovies, but the girl at the register warned us that it didn't have cheese on it, which made it sound kind of weird and lacking. I didn't notice until I looked up the menu at home that it does have romano, just not bufala, and I'm not sure why she warned us, and I kind of wish we just gave it a shot anyway. Alas, we went with the white pizza. I actually asked if we could have anchovies on that but she said no. I sometimes have requests of this nature at restaurants, and it's sometimes seen as Sally-from-When-Harry-Met-Sally-behavior and really seems to irk some people. I don't really get that. It's not like I asked for a cannoli baked into a calzone and then dipped in liquid nitrogen or something. But whatever. Also, BYOB. We drank some good fizzy water in lieu of a nice red.

We sat down at the table next to a 50-something couple. I went ahead and struck up a conversation with them because that's the whole point of a communal table, and they were nice. I was telling the woman about getting accepted into the Master's program, and she told me her dad, who is 83(!) goes to the same school and is getting his Master's in creative writing. I said I'd love to have a class with an 83-year-old grad student and she said I'd definitely notice him on campus, and I hope I do. How awesome. It was nice to talk to strangers over dinner; a nice reminder that those who break bread together are friends. Doesn't that make you think of the mead-hall in Beowulf? No? One thing Frances Mayes mentioned was that in Italy, when you invite someone over for dinner, you should expect surprise guests to tag along. The idea is that more are always welcome and accommodated, and that you just throw in another handful of pasta and pull up some extra chairs. You welcome everyone and their children into your home with open arms, and you feed them. Speaking of chairs, I noticed when pulling out my stool at Antico, a sticker was across the seat: DO NOT MOVE THIS CHAIR OR YOU WILL BE ASKED TO LEAVE. Sheesh. They feed you well at Antico, but don't go movin' things around.

Our pizza arrived and was definitely big enough for two, unlike at Fritti (which is not a bad thing on Fritti's part, because then you just have to order two pizzas, oh, damn). The white pizza was comprised of the aforementioned fior di latte, bufala, ricotta, and pecorino. I don't know that I could discern the flower of milk or pecorino, but the ricotta was sweet and the bufala satisfying, although I missed that salty acidity I had been craving, and a strong hit of flavor imparted by olives or ham or little fish. I appreciated the basil on top. On the table are some fun condiments, like hot red peppers in oil, salt, fresh chopped garlic, dried oregano, and a large oil can of olive oil. I topped mine with pretty much all of the above except the salt and olive oil, which I saved until the end to dip my crust into. The pizza crust is very thick, doughy, chewy, yeasty, soft on the inside, and golden on the outside with some prerequisite and delicious char from the wood burning ovens. It was really good, don't get me wrong, but I was expecting pizza a little thinner, like how I remember from Italy, but I was in a different region all together, so what do I know. The owner is noted to be recreating authentic Neapolitan pizza, with the high quality Italian ingredients, preparation, and cooking methods, so I trust that he's doing that. I think I would have loved this pizza more when I was younger, when thick, doughy crust was my favorite part. Now I'm more into a thinner crust, like at Fritti, with less flour and yeast by half the amount or more. I know with most people the crust left over is their favorite part, but I tend to get off more on the inner part of the pie.

When I was left with a huge pile of crust to eat, I grabbed the giant olive oil canister and the salt and went to town. Suddenly I discovered my favorite taste of the evening, the only truly stand-out thing that had me going "mmmmmmmmm...mmmmmmmm...oh my gaaaahd..." like a Tech student with the munchies, high on Hemphill. No, not the crust, per say--it was the olive oil. It was so green and fruity and fragrant, and the sea salt...man, the combo just did me in. The crust was a means to an end, a good means, but more so a necessary conductor for the best olive oil I have ever tasted. We were too stuffed for dessert, and anyway I wanted to savor the amazingness of the salt and oil for awhile. I wish I could tell you the name of the olive oil, but I was too stoned to think of checking.

Antico Pizza Napoletana
1093 Hemphill Ave
Atlanta, Georgia 30318
Tel: 404-724-2333

Saturday, March 13, 2010

The Crêpe Revolutionary War (in which we all win)



Photo via CrepeRevolution.com
My ole pal Chris proposed a lovely trade-off: In exchange for dinner, I would pick him up and drive him to Crêpe Revolution in good ole Smyrna, GA.  Of course I accepted. If you buy me food, I'll drive you anywhere.

Crêpe Revolution is a California Pizza Kitchen-ish type place which serves interesting and delightful dishes wrapped in a crêpe instead of atop a pizza. Although the old standby ham and cheese crêpe is perfection,  Crêpe Revolution offers unique dishes that you've likely never had in crêpe form, par example: ratatouille, chicken curry, crab cakes, duck confit with portobella mushrooms, thai chicken, and the kinda-weird-but-probably-delicious pot roast-in-a-crêpe.  Revolution also does build-your-own-crêpes and offers a gluten-free batter for the rich and special.

With an open kitchen for viewing, you can watch your crêpe being made by the chef, who uses one of these to spread the batter on the round griddle:
That scene in Amélie when the narrator says little Amélie thinks records are made like crêpes suddenly made sense to me.  In my high school French club, crêpe-making involved dipping an upside-down rounded electric crêpe griddle into batter and then turning it right-side up. Oui, je sais, très chic.  Thankfully, crêpe-making is authentic French-style at Crêpe Revolution.

Wine bar, Photo via CrepeRevolution.com
The owner, Neel Sedngupta, greeted us as we entered and was visibly present the entire time, though not intrusively so.   Actually we weren't just greeted; Chris got a "Welcome back!" because apparently he's been a patron for some time.  Sedngupta was friendly and eager to be accommodating as necessary. In his words, Revolution sees the crêpe as the ideal canvas on which to create unique dishes.  At CR, the crêpe is not an afterthought--they are light and airy, yet spongy and absorbent in all the right ways a carbohydrate should be.

For our main course, I ordered the special, which I basically decided on after hearing the word "cumin," and Chris ordered the Chipotle Pork, which the server said was one of the most popular dishes. The special I ordered was comprised of cumin-spiced lamb, baba ghanoush, kalamata olives, and a yummy sauce, kind of a light-red spiced tzatziki--kind of a dressed-up gyro.  The lamb was high-quality, flavorful, flank-like slices with not a gristle in sight. The baba ghanoush was delicious, a generous spread of eggplant, lemon juice, garlic, onions, spices, good olive oil, and tahini. The kalamata olives were juicy and imparted a complimentary tang, and I was glad there were enough to see me through the whole dish.  The cumin flavor was perfectly noticable without being overpowering.  Overall it was a delicious.

Chris's Chipotle Pork was super tasty, and just enough on the sweet side, which I loved. The pulled pork was tender and smokey.  I never would have thought to put barbecue with a crepe, but I'm sure glad Revolution did.

For my side, I ordered the salad, which did have a few creative choices of dressing to make up for the lack of anything atop the fresh spring mix--a few grape tomatoes and some red onion and I'd call that a much appreciated addition. The dressings available include granny smith vinaigrette and curry rice wine vinaigrette; I partook of the latter and it went great with my cumin crêpe. Chris had the fresh fruit and he liked it.

Our waitress was very sweet. I drink a lot of water and she was right there to refill it the whole time. I spoke to Neel Sedngupta again when he came around to politely check on the tables. The young woman next to us was dining alone, and I overheard her tell Neel she was a teacher and correcting homework.  It was good to see that Crêpe Revolution is a friendly spot for the solo diner, the twosome, or the family of 10, all of whom were there that night. It was nicely, but not overly, busy. On a side note, the bathrooms were very nice and clean and cute. I notice these things.

We felt good and satiated after dinner, but not overly full, even after the delicious Nutella and sweet, ripe strawberry crêpe we shared for dessert--in retrospect, I wish we had ordered one for each of us.

Prices are pretty reasonable for those on a budget like myself (many options for dinner from $9-$16).  My dish was one of the nightly specials, prices at $16.  Chris had a coupon app on his iPhone that gave him 60% off--that's a lot. We got about $45 of food for $20, and Chris left a $10 tip because he's nice like that (don't forget to base the tip on the original bill when you use a coupon.) 

All in all, if you were wondering, no, we weren't crêped-out after dinner and dessert--we were planning our next visit.  Crêpe Revolution has one of those menus that makes you want come back night after night until you've tried everything on it.

Photo Via CrepeRevolution.com
Crêpe Revolution
4600 West Village Place
Smyrna, GA 30080
770-485-7440