Feb
11
Now that’s what I call a power couple. (Old Fourth Ward, Atlanta, Ga.)
Christina Lee.
Freelance writer, D.C.-ATL transplant.
Posts tagged atlanta
Apr
6
“I Love Friction” — The Hood Internet (Asher Roth x The Pains of Being Pure at Heart). Okay, there seriously needs to be a name for when you hear a song you love but cannot truly enjoy it because suddenly all you want to hear is the Hood Internet mash-up version.
Well, just dropped in (to see what condition my condition was in).
Oh, and to say that The Pains of Being Pure at Heart were wonderful at The Earl last night.
Mar
25
PURGE: Young Orchids Finally Bask in the Afterglow. While the people behind PURGE prefer to send photographers along with writers the day they conduct their interviews, founder Tim Song and I almost always have conflicting schedules (if not conflicting hangovers). This Young Orchids profile proved to be no exception — I interviewed the band at their rehearsal space on Tuesday, right before Tim scheduled a photo shoot with a band on Thursday, and now, after seeing photos like these, I’m kicking myself (yet again) for not being able to witness Tim at work.
Jan
6
Yes, this is me interviewing the badass guys behind We Are The Process, recording the conversation with my laptop and reading the questions I jotted down in my planner. Hey, at least I get the job done.
So here's the latest news on the diner that has been trying to open up down the block since April—APRIL!—of 2010
Although maybe “trying” isn’t the correct term? Every time I’ve walked by for the past several months, there’s been a bunch of dudes in there just sitting at one of the booths—which have all been set up with salt, pepper, sugar, etc. for so long that when the place does open, there will probably be a healthy layer of dust over it all—watching football on one of the several giant flat-screen TVs installed earlier in the fall. The neon lights advertising all the various menu options that will presumably one day be available for consumption are on pretty much 24/7, as far as I can tell—Joe and I were across the street at Leon’s late one night and they were just blazing away. The more time passes (and, recently, the more we watch of The Wire) the more convinced we are that this place is a total front, but like, the worst front ever, because there is no product being offered as a cover-up for whatever kind of sketchiness might be happening in the back. How in the world is this place making money to keep the lights on or even buy the lights in the first place, let alone the TVs and the premium cable needed to watch ESPN2 on said TVs? Actual working, open, customer-serving restaurants have come and gone in the time that this place has been sitting there as a sad, neon-lit shell of itself, making zero money and doing little other than tantalizing everyone in Decatur with its vague promises of spanakopita and burgers and towering cakes in huge rotating cases. Actually, I don’t even know if they’re gonna have cakes in cases, but this whole damn time I’ve been hoping they will to the point that I have essentially convinced myself that it will happen and as time moves on I get more and more excited and alternately more despondent about the cakes to the point that there is no way even if they DO have cakes whenever they DO open that the cakes will in any way live up to the expectations I’ve had NEARLY TEN MONTHS to build up in my mind. THIS DINER HAS HAD A GESTATION PERIOD LONGER THAN SOME HUMAN CHILDREN. AND IT STILL IS NOT OPEN. AND I HAVE NOT EVEN MENTIONED THE TRAVESTY OF THE FAKE-BLUE MARBLE THEY DOODLED ALL OVER THE PERFECTLY DECENT CONCRETE BLOCK BARRIER/FENCE THAT RUNS AROUND THE PATIO AND LOOKS LIKE A LOW-RENT GOONY GOLF COURSE PAINT JOB. I have never in my life been so emotionally tortured by a restaurant, let alone one that will probably just be only OK and give me massive farts.
Apparently Decatur Diner can afford high-speed Internet as well. I’m sitting next door at Javamonkey, using their wireless connection.
Dec
26
For Sale / Wanted > Barter > Four Brown Butter Sage Apple Pies (Or, Why I Spent Christmas in Atlanta)
Remember when I recommended making this brown butter sage apple pie recipe by Cathy Erway of Not Eating Out in New York? Two days ago I took my own advice to heart and made five of these pies as Christmas gifts, for my mom and her fiance, my boyfriend’s mother, my paternal relatives, my friend Angela and my roommate Mike, who was staying home instead of traveling for the holidays.
I made these pies completely from scratch, meaning that I spent 1.5 hours thinly slicing 24 York apples, then an extra 45 minutes kneading 10 pie crusts’ worth of dough, equivalent in weight to, let’s say, two small babies.
My boyfriend and I were supposed to drive to Frederick, Md., and Wilkes-Barre, Pa., early the next morning — but we never left, meaning these pies never left my kitchen. As I’ve already explained in an e-mail to Katherine:
When he asked me to start his Jetta, I had pressed a button on the driver’s side door thinking that I was unlocking the passenger side. Instead, I had locked the driver’s side, though I hadn’t closed the door all the way, which left the door halfway latched to his car. It had been running for about 15 minutes by the time he pried the door open with a screwdriver, and once he did, he took the key out of the ignition and locked and unlocked the door, making sure that the door wouldn’t get stuck again. Then he tried to start the car again. No such luck.
Five hours later — after freaking out, calling our respective parents, testing his battery inside an old Pathfinder belonging to a roommate, waiting for an Advanced Auto Parts to open, trading the old battery in for a new one, calling our parents again, installing the new battery, attempting to start the car again without anything happening (still not sure why), freaking out again, then starting the car again successfully — we decided not to go. I would have gotten to Frederick in time for midnight mass, but I still would have completely missed the dinner I was supposed to attend with my mom. He would have gotten to Wilkes-Barre around 2 a.m., if he got lucky.
Anyway.
I made them almost exactly as Cathy Erway instructed, except for two modifications: a mixture of whole wheat pastry and unbleached, all-purpose flour in the crust, and a little less sage mixed into the pie filling. I brushed a milk wash and sprinkled cane sugar on each of the top crusts, which makes for a fantastic contrast against the savory sage.
You, lovely Atlanta resident, have: a VHS/DVD that we can add to the house collection, winter caps to help us endure the rest of this uncharacteristically white Christmas, a book that you’ve already read, or even a vegetarian dish (or even dessert) that my boyfriend and I can share.
Or, to be frank, anything but another pie. Well, that and fruitcake. I can’t stand that stuff.
Dec
22
“Back Up Plan” — Big Boi. Be prepared — to dance. In your seat, if you’re at work.
Dec
8
The more I research Southern culture and lifestyle magazines (Atlanta, American Songwriter, Garden and Gun), the more I can’t help but to think of Mr. Hyunh. My hero.
Nov
12
PURGE: Lori Guarisco: Dancing Poet and Former Bearded Lady. Lori Guarisco is first and foremost a storyteller, though she’d also describe herself as a dancing poet, writer, spoken word artist, and street performer. I rented a room of hers last fall, but with my internship and her string of gigs constantly getting in the way, I never got her to tell the story I wanted to hear most — until now.
(P.S. I also cannot get enough of the photos Tim Song took of Lori. I’m truly having a tough time picking my favorite.)
Nov
10
Last month, NYTimes.com posted three ways that Atlanta has and/or will contribute to the nation’s cultural landscape. Its lede: “Atlanta can seem like mainstream city, a hub better known for its airport, housewives and Coca-Cola headquarters.”
As Rachael said, “These are three great things, for sure—but man, that lead. ‘Atlanta: You think it kind of sucks, but it doesn’t!’”
Among other things, NYTimes.com wrote briefly about Atlanta: Hip-Hop and the South — photographer Michael Schmellling’s new book, and the subject of my first-ever Creative Loafing feature. For the reasons I’ve outlined there, I hope that New Yorkers will start to view Atlanta differently — perhaps, as rap’s up-and-coming Nashville.
← Older posts
Page 1 of 2
