— TheToothfish

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My uncle has a dog named Madison who can do many things. She can bark on command, roll over, play dead and even put her toys in a basket. She also chews on furniture and rips apart pillows. She is unruly, as every house guest whom she has pounced on would attest. Bad Dog Taqueria in the Emory Village reminds me of Madison.

Co-owners Tracy Mitchell and Bardo Arroyave’s first foray into the restaurant business takes aim at Emory students with ambitiously pan-ethnic tacos and a $2.99 price tag. A liquor license is on its way, and Bad Dog accepts Eagle Dollars. The restaurant has “student-friendly” written all over it, and on paper and in theory, the concept is a knockout. On the plate, though, the food is not.

Bad Dog, where the now-closed Sprouts once was, opened at the end of May with intentions to remind students of home — wherever home might be — through food, according to Mitchell. This explains Bad Dog’s use of Korean BBQ pork belly, slow roasted brisket and samosas: like Emory, Bad Dog connects with Korea, India, the South and everywhere else between a flour tortilla. Recreating flavors from home, though, goes far beyond duplicating ingredients or copying recipes. It’s about execution and, as Bad Dog might call it, seoul, neither of which Bad Dog’s tacos possess.

Tacos such as the Evita (flank steak with fried yucca and a chimichurri sauce), Snooki (spicy tomato ground beef ragu with queso fresco) and Miss Saigon (filet mignon, jasmine rice) are far less interesting than their names. Evita’s chimichurri sauce is primarily bland olive oil. The Snooki is a pantry of ingredients away from savory, and Miss Saigon could use a hit of napalm, or anything with heat or character.

(From L-R) Snooki, Evita, Chickpeas in a Pod

Character is also what the décor is short on. The inside is as plain as it is cramped, white tables, which are often as empty as the giant, red brick wall behind the counter. It feels as if little has been done to rid the space of Sprouts and create a vibe solely for Bad Dog. There is no vibe, rather, and like Sprouts, the restaurant has a tendency to feel hollow.

The best taco is “Tastes Like Chicken,” a plantain-encrusted chicken breast with cilantro sauce and jalapenos. It’s straightforward and delicious. After that, it’s back down the hill. I assume “Uncle Morty” (slow-roasted brisket with grilled onions and a “special sauce”) is southern-inspired, but I must wonder from which part. The brisket is a confused misfire of seasonings, while the “special sauce” drowns the taco in a pool of watery misery.

Tacos and vegetarians hardly get along, but Bad Dog offers two meatless choices. Both are disasters. “Chickpeas in a Pod” sounds cute but isn’t, as the desert-dry chickpea croquettes are more like mangled bits with flavors that would confuse even the Korean owners of Falafal King across the street. Meanwhile, the Indian-inspired “Bollywood” taco is baby food. Period.

“Tastes Like Chicken”

Bad Dog Taqueria suffers from what so many lesser Asian restaurants often rely on in America: an unfiltered desire to please everyone. The restaurant that serves sushi, kung pao chicken and cheese pizza rarely pans out well because in its effort to offer everything, they are good at nothing. Like Madison, they can do many tricks, but are bottom-line bad.

Bad Dog’s tricks are, at best, childish, as so many of its tacos make more sense without the taco. A recent special of short ribs, rosemary mashed potatoes and a lavender-infused demi-glace — all in a taco, mind you — is a testament to a lack of imagination and poor culinary judgment. Just because it fits in a taco doesn’t mean it should be there. And then there was the mac and cheese taco, too. Execution aside, these are all textural nightmares.

For the Emory Village and for the Emory student body, Bad Dog Taqueria is a disappointing groan. Three months into opening, the place needs a leash to reel in its ethnic ambitions and redirect its attention away from culinary brain farts to more fundamentally delicious tacos.

As published in the Emory Wheel: http://bit.ly/oodRoP

Bad Dog Taqueria
(404) 890-5408
Druid Hills/Emory
1579 North Decatur Rd NE
Atlanta, GA
30307
www.baddogtaco.com

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roasted sea scallops – $14

Chef John Bragg’s Circa opened in 2007 to a chic interior, extensive wine list and a sharp menu that quickly won recognition from Food and Wine magazine among other enthusiasts. Circa had another side too. Commercial Appeal critic Fredric Koeppel knocked Circa for its inconsistency, a claim I fully supported, while other Memphians often found the service too snobby for food too pricey. Whatever the case, Circa abandoned Downtown and reopened in East Memphis near Ruth’s Chris on Shady Grove early this year. But despite a new location, different decor and trimmed menu, Circa is as uninspired as ever — a fine place to spend money but not to eat.

Downtown Circa had one of the classiest dining rooms in Memphis: hardwood floors, walls made to hold wine bottles, spotlights to give focus and emphasis throughout the room. The charm and style Circa once had is gone, and as with most restaurants in shopping centers, the decor feels forced — this one dark and brooding, sprawling and cold with black walls and octopus-like lighting fixtures.

striped bass – $26 | careful, the garnish is deadly.

The food doesn’t show any sign of a chef trying to start anew either. The seared scallops in a pistou broth was a lame imitation of New York City’s Daniel Bouluds’ original. Bragg’s attempt is three rubbery scallops lost in a murky green pool of mismatched vegetables and raw pine nuts. The crayfish beignets seemed to lack crayfish while the crab cakes were a tad burnt and two tads too fishy. The lobster bisque with sherry and crabmeat was a creamy bowl of cream, the lobster nowhere to be found. Only the mound of smoked salmon served on a corn cake showed strength, but this depends on whether Circa smokes its own salmon.

Entrees didn’t improve. The rack of lamb and the quail were both drowning in a sharp and aggressively acidic buerre rouge sauce while the salmon with pesto was neither fresh nor flavorful, with the exception of a greasy chip used as a garnish. The polenta battered striped bass was both a choking hazard and a textural nightmare. A mysterious bone-like garnish was formidable enough, but beyond that waited a clash of undercooked edamame, overcooked fish and gummy batter all resting in a watery tarragon buerre blanc. For dessert, there was the forgettable but “award winning” apple pie.

It is a shame that Circa’s new kitchen is serving such flawed food that is memorable only because of its price tag. What is meant to be white tablecloth cuisine — for 5 people, the bill was approximately $400 — sadly comes across as sloppy, unrefined and unimaginative, and if Circa is going to survive the next year, the kitchen will need an epiphany that their best days were c. 2007.

Circa By John Bragg
(901) 746-9130
White Station
6150 Poplar Ave Ste 122
Memphis, TN 38119

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Have you ever touched a jacket made of chinchilla fur? You should try it, if you haven’t already done so. But you know what you shouldn’t try? Neiman Marcus’ restaurant on the bottom floor of Lenox Mall. In fashion speak, it was an experience at which Miranda Priestly would have pursed her lips.

 

NM Cafe, as it’s affectionately called, falls flat for a number of reasons. The interior is a cafeteria meets frozen yogurt shop, and the menu is a celebration of country club cuisine without the tennis courts. Or the spas. The atmosphere is, like the interior, one of a cafeteria: noisy and hollow.
Granted you could argue I should have known better, NM Cafe barely resembles the brand name it operates under, a store known for its exquisite service for the exquisitely inclined with exquisite taste. What unfolded during my Saturday lunch was an hour and a half of nightmare service with average or inedible food at haute prices.
The start of the meal began awkwardly. As the waiter filled our water glasses, he placed two baby teacups in front of us, and without a word whisked away to the kitchen. Tea, now that’s a classy way to begin a meal at Neiman. But no, I don’t think it was tea. In fact, I’m positive it was chicken broth. Not that the broth tasted bad, but why? Why chicken broth?
 

 

Moving on, NM’s menu is bland and pricey. Glossing over the $15 turkey sandwiches and $20 salads, I tried the Mandarin Orange Souffle ($15), which, turns out, is just chicken salad with a mandarin orange jelly of sorts. Not quite the souffle I had hoped for, but the plate was good enough for lunch.
Probably the best part of NM Cafe are the popovers with strawberry butter. Flaky and buttery and strawberry-y. Too bad the bread didn’t find its way to the table until the entrees were served. All other tables had popovers shortly after they ordered, but I literally had to flag down a waiter.
My friend ordered the “bay of fundy salmon,” labeled on the menu as a “heart couture” dish (I’m not making this stuff up). This dish and the events which followed were more bay of pigs than fundy. On the first round, the salmon was completely overcooked and dry. Seeing as our waiter was nowhere to be…seen, we flagged down another waiter who took the dish away only to bring a second salmon that was completely raw.
raaawwwwwww
At this point my friend had spent most of her time watching me eat. When our waiter did return to fill up our glasses (not acknowledging that we had returned a dish), we told him how the salmon was raw. His reply: “Well, how do you want it cooked?”
Au contraire, mister waiter. How about properly? I didn’t say that but it crossed my mind. I can bear a waiter who is distant and unsympathetic, but sharp tongues are uncalled for. Long story short, my friend ended up ordering the she-crab lobster bisque, but by then it was too late. The meal had been ruined.
But wait. The story isn’t over.
When our waiter did find the time to give us our check, a $2.50 coke was on the tab. Funny thing is, we didn’t order a coke, and yet a waiter delivered one to our table somewhere between Salmon 1 and Salmon 2. By now it was nearing 3:30, and I just wanted to leave. We decided to not mention the coke and just take it out of the tip. Upon handing him a Visa card, he replied, “We only accept American Express.”

 

Of course, Neiman. Of course, the only card you accept is American Express. Neither of us had the cash nor an American Express card, but thankfully I remembered there was an ATM machine outside of Neiman on the second floor. The initial shock though was less terrifying and more humorous.
Humorous in a sad, defeated kind of way.
Nm Cafe (at Neiman Marcus) on Urbanspoon
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Because most of my good experiences have mainly been in midtown restaurants, I walked into the Grove Grill hoping that I could say something positive about East Memphis restaurants. This part of town, it seems, lacks consistent, unique restaurants. I was praying that The Grove Grill, situated in the Davis Kidd’s shopping center on Poplar, would prove me wrong, therefore allowing me to become a “regular” at one more restaurant. I did my best to block out my last experience at this place as well as the seemingly abundant negative opinions from my friends. However, I found myself reliving my last experience and agreeing with my peers.

By the time we sat down, D1 and I already had some things to say. First off, the décor and atmosphere of The Grove was not upscale, as their prices reflected. Instead, as D1 so accurately pointed out, the place took on the appearance of a “…cheap hotel restaurant”. Further contributing to this feel were the staff’s unprofessional uniforms, which consisted of khaki pants and a blue or pink seersucker shirt. Yet in light of the faltering atmosphere and Ikea-esque decorations, I remained hopeful that the food would, in the end, avenge the restaurant. For an appetizer, I had the fried green tomatoes with pepper jelly. The batter on the tomatoes was good, but the entire dish was overpowered by the overly sweet jelly. Without the jelly, the tough tomatoes had no flavor at all. For my entree, I ordered the mahogany roast duckling with whipped sweet potatoes, turnip greens, and dry cherry gastrique. The duckling was tender but didn’t posses any mahogany characteristics. The flavor of the duck was closer to a typical rotisserie chicken. As for my sides, I found both of them too sweet. Yes- whipped sweet potatoes are supposed to be sweet but these potatoes were too sweet. Turnip greens, on the other hand, are usually bitter. These greens, though, were, like the potatoes, too sweet and left me feeling confused. D1’s entrée, however, was ten times worse than mine. D1 ordered the Groveburger which was served on a sesame bun along with fresh cut fries. As soon as our waiter brought the burger, I was suspicious. I told D1 to wait one second, and for a moment I eyed the burger. “Hmm,” I said and then waited for D1’s critique. Not long after taking the first bite, D1 realized that it had made a mistake ordering the burger. Unfortunately for D1, the burger, along with the bread, was burnt to the max. This, though, was not an egregious crime and not my main suspicion. “This tastes like a frozen, pre-patted burger.” That was my suspicion. I found the burger to be not only thin but also perfectly round. The taste of the burger reinforced my speculations as it certainly tasted like a frozen patty and lacked that fresh meat flavor. (For those of you who don’t understand what I’m talking about, I suggest getting one burger from Back Yard Burger’s and another from Houston’s. You should be able to tell which restaurant uses a frozen patty.) How could this “up-scale” restaurant do this? Why would any restaurant feel the need to serve meat that has already been patted and frozen? One word: convenience. So many restaurants take shortcuts and as a result sacrifice quality and flavor. Now, obviously I didn’t confront the waiter and demand to know if the burger was really pre-patted. The Groveburger may indeed be hand patted. If that’s the case, then it means that the $11 Groveburger tastes no better than a $1.99 Wendy’s burger.

To sum it all up, I – wait. No. I don’t think I need to give you a summary. Instead, allow me to tell you how I ended my meal: by running down to Davis Kidds where I, with a roaring stomach, headed toward the nearest restroom. I wasn’t going to let the food ruin more than it already had.

-Reviewed February ’08


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