Mysteriously Tasty Treats in ATL

There are few culinary wastelands that can match the domain beyond the security checkpoint in sheer food hopelessness. Maybe it's the captive audience, but airports seem completely set on finding the lowest common denominator in the American diet and seeing if they can inch that bar just a little bit lower.

There are a few bright spots: Austin's commitment to local food in the airport yields decent and improving results; Pappadeux in the E terminal at IAH is consistently good; Columbus, OH and Portland, OR both have fully functioning espresso places (Joe's and EspressoPeople, respectively). And, this week, I've got a new one: Cafe Intermezzo at ATL.

Granted, these places don't tend to age all that well, and Intermezzo is a new-comer, but from what I've seen so far, this place has real promise.

Intermezzo is located in the bookstore at the center of Terminal B, the flagship terminal in Atlanta's behemoth Hartsfield International airport. It's on the less traveled side, across the hallway from the major food court.

You walk in greeted by a massive pastry case. And these are legit pastries, super lush, super rich. The espresso machine is a force to be reckoned with, though as with most of the spit-shined bronze monster machines, this one's mostly show. The tables are scattered throughout - several in front in sort of a sidewalk cafe format, and several back in the bookstore, with a view of the planes outside.

I've eaten there a couple of times. This last time, I ordered a pot of coffee and a spinach artichoke crepe. I've been on kind of a crepe kick lately, and while this wasn't the best I've had it was really simple, and really tasty. Essentially, this was a two-ingredient deal: baby spinach leaves and artichoke hearts. No bechamel. No cream. No goop at all. The spinach was just wilted - perfectly done, I expect simply from the heat of the crepe. The artichokes (full disclosure - I am an artichoke fiend) could have been a bit higher quality and a bit better trimmed, but they were tender and a nice compliment to the spinach. The coffee was lovely as well, nice full body, light roast, delivered in a little pot with a ceramic mug. It's a small thing, but ceramic mugs in an airport deserve some kudos.

This place is not the speediest of options, but thankfully in this case at least, ATL is not the speediest of airports. I highly recommend it next time you've got a flight delayed out until the far edges of the evening as an escape from the ATL terminal B zoo.

Hell's Burger

In DC this week, catching up on some training and strolling through a few bits of my old stomping ground. The days have been autumnal and perfectly clear; even just the walk from my hotel to the Rosslyn metro has involved tromping through freshly fallen brightly colored leaves.

But really what I've been doing here, when it comes down to the memorable stuff, is eating.

Last night, delicious, crisp, light pizza from Pizzeria Paradiso in Georgetown. Tonight, the pure decadence of Ray's Hell Burger. Ray's is as unassuming as dives get, and if it wasn't for the line-out-the-door Tuesday night crowd and the Obama visits and the 40 pages of Yelp raves, you'd hardly notice it. In fact, they don't even really have a sign.

But they do have a burger. Man oh man do they have a burger. 10 oz. Indescribably tender. Charred just a bit on the outside. Toasted brioche bun. This beast borders on the obscene, juicier and richer and more decadent than any burger I've ever had. I went as plain as possible on this go - cheddar cheese, grilled onions, dill pickles, mustard, lettuce, tomato. I won't try to recall all the burger variations, but I will say that by plain I mean that the particular cheese I chose was one of more than a dozen available.

And it's good that the burger is so outlandishly amazing, because Ray's is a one-trick pony. They do fries, and coleslaw, but as a total afterthought, almost the way salad bars include the decorative kale.

Now, if I just jog back to Austin, I should be about able to burn this baby off and return to my pre-Ray's self. But then again, maybe the Persephone rule applies; when you take a bite in Hell, you can't ever go back.

Cupcakes, take 2. Sugar Mamas Sets The Bar.

Cupcakes have had a heck of a run these last few years. In Austin, and everywhere else, cupcakeries have sprouted up in downtown hipster storefronts, airstream trailers and suburban strip malls.

My cupcake odyssey took me out of Grubbus, into a stint blogging for Sweet Tempered Bakery in South Austin, through the heartbreak of their closure a few months back, and, now, finally, back to Grubbus, and back with a hell of a new favorite cupcake in these waning days of the fad: The Sugar Mama's Bakeshop Black and Tan. Available Fridays.




Sugar Mama's gets just about everything right. It's a little place, tucked into South First Street between Mary and Johanna. Black and white tiles and an eccentric mix of the vintage and the Ikea frame two glass displays dominated with a constantly changing array of the most luscious cupcakes, cookies, pies and bars I've encountered. It's an engaging spot, and there are a couple of small tables, but this is essentially a get-it-and-go operation. So presentation is off the chart, and the cashier I chatted with talked about growing up running around Sweetish Hill while her mom baked cakes (foodie cred!) but the real kicker here is the taste: Moist, buttery, sweet cakes with frosting good enough to eat with a spoon.

A word of warning - despite the proliferation of bakeries in Austin, and despite the slow deflation of the cupcake craze - this place is popular enough that it sells out of the good stuff early - I'd recommend going early if you can.