Alfred App Finds Restaurants You'll Love

I'm addicted to "discovery apps" -- software that learns what you love, then recommends new options based on your preferences.

So I was delighted to come across Alfred, an app from CleverSense. Alfred learns about the restaurants you like in your neighborhood: where you like to go for breakfast, for brunch, for lunch, for dinner, for coffee and dessert. Then, based on those preferences, Alfred recommends nearby restaurants wherever you are: at home or on the road.

Especially when traveling, I use UrbanSpoon and TripAdvisor to discover great restaurants all the time. But both neither UrbanSpoon nor TripAdvisor actually make recommendations based on *my* preferences; instead, they rank eateries based on the preferences of everyone who bothers to vote.

And while the wisdom of The Crowd can be useful -- especially if you have nothing else to go on -- it can also be flawed. In the suburbs, for example, The Crowd is apt to rank McDonald's as a great diner or Pizza Hut as fine Italian restaurant. And that's ultimately the problem with ranking apps: systems that average together the votes of average diners tend to point to average results.

Alfred is different, in that his recommendations are, at least in theory, based on your preferences -- the specific experiences you *personally* enjoy. I spent a little time training him (telling him about restaurants we go to on a regular basis), and in minutes, Alfred was recommending places within a mile or two of our house I'd either forgotten about (Tin Lizzy), avoided (Mojito), or never even heard of (Cafe 640?!?).

It's easy to get excited about recommendations before they're road-tested, so stay tuned. Meanwhile, over the next couple of weeks, I'm going to depend on Alfred to answer "What's for dinner?" If you do the same, let me know how things go.

The Pastries of Belem (Pasteis de Belem)

Guidebooks and locals agree: in Lisbon, the Thing You Must Do is have a pastel de nata -- a Portuguese egg custard pastry.

They're easy to come by, since every bakery in town cranks them out by the truckload. You'll seem them in window after window: little round pastries, about the size of a Kennedy half-dollar. You know those little tarts some dim sum restaurants sell? With the dense, vaguely sweet eggy filling? That's the pastel de nata's Chinese cousin.

But that's where the resemblance ends. Those Chinese treats are machine-made; the pastel de nata is made by hand. The Chinese tart has a moist, mushy crust; the pastel de nata's crust is crispier and flakier. And while the Chinese dan tat pastry filling tends to be either bright yellow or sunrise orange, the egg custard used in the pastel de nata is scorched on top, the way a good cheese toast will be when broiled just so.

And if you want the authentic experience, not just any pastel de nata will do. No, you must board a sleek streetcar, ride out to the Belem neighborhood, and join the long line snaking around the block from the front door of Pasteis de Belem, *the* bakery, considered to have *the* secret recipe that all the others have been attempting to copy since 1837.

(Here's a tip, scored from our wonderful Lisbon Explorer guide, Paolo: don't get in that line. Instead, bypass the line, walk right in, and head for the back of this cavernous establishment. There, in any of the sprawling rooms, you can take a seat, order your pastries and coffee, and have them brought to you by a handsome waiter. Trust me: this is definitely better than waiting in line!)

Are the pastries here really that much better? Ah, my friend, you are asking the wrong question. A tart from Pasteis de Belem will be fresh, and this does much to enhance the flavor. But the real charm of these particular treats is the pastry pilgrimage you take to acquire them: the streetcar ride, the stroll down the street, the bustle of the busy bakery, the joy of sneaking past the line.

You settle in your seat. You place your order. You sip your hot coffee. You watch the locals. You chat with your family.You wait.

And then, you lift the little pastry to your mouth and bite into the flaky crust and springy custard. It's warm. It's soft. It's just sweet enough.

The pastry is tasty … but the experience is the treat.

A Plague of Flies (Einstein's / Midtown Atlanta)

Crossed the street to Einstein's tonight, where we snagged a seat on Midtown's most popular patio and ordered the Springer Mountain chicken and the trout, both with sides of the edamame succotash.

On this autumn evening, things were pleasant -- a gentle breeze, a shady spot, two glasses of ice water, good conversation. But once the food came, everything went downhill immediately … because as soon as the plates were on the table, we were lost in a cloud of buzzing, aggressive black flies.

I have a penchant for exaggeration, but I am only reporting the facts. If I stopped fanning the table with my hand for even one second, between four and five flies would descend onto our plates. Even when I was fanning, the air around us was thrumming with them: landing on my head, on my arm, on my shirt. At one point, there were a dozen (!) patient flies lined up on the back of the empty chair opposite mine, waiting for an opening.

We ate as best we could … and then were forced to put our plates aside. The minute we did, the flies mobbed the chicken bones and leftover side items, turing our dishes into a buzzing, crawling horror show.

Our waiter watched all this with detached amusement. He made no move to intervene or apologize until he saw me shooting iPhone photos of our fly-ridden plates … and then he moved pretty quickly to whisk them away.

I started to post a picture with this, but couldn't bear to do it. Instead, just trust me on this: if you're dining at Einstein's in the cool of the evening … avoid the patio seats.

Review: Fido (Nashville, TN)

Fido is a bit schizophrenic. On the one hand, it presents itself as a hip, edgy coffee house with a broad range of inventive breakfast options. On the other, the joint is littered with notes from Mom warning customers how to behave.

Linger too long, one note tells you, and Mom will cut the WiFi off. Get a refill from the self-service refill station, and Mom insists you toss seventy-five cents into the nearby payment jar. And if the place is busy, it's pretty clear Mom wants you to eat up, drink up, and get out.

And that's a shame, because the food and coffee here are worth lingering over. Clyde's tofu scramble with veggies and skillet potatoes was a perfectly respectable vegan option, and my own own omelet with steak, onions, and cheddar was tasty (though the steak was overcooked and tough). We both enjoyed the coffee, which was hearty and bold.

We got there minutes after opening time, so we had our pick of seats. By the time we left, college kids from nearby Vanderbilt University were swarming in like ants at a picnic. Recommended -- though if you plan to dawdle, bring your own WiFi hotspot, just in case Mom's in a cranky mood.

LeRoy's Fried Chicken: Does Everybody Need a Little LFC?

With an eye toward being leaner and healthier, I'm choosing to eat fried food just once a week and animal protein just twice a week. Yesterday, we decided to give our newly lean and healthy bodies a one-two punch by paying a first-ever visit to Leroy's Fried Chicken (1021 Howell Mill Road, next door to La Fonda).

As fried chicken joints go, LeRoy's has a bit of split personality.

On the one hand, paper signs taped to the windows assure us that LeRoy is frying up local chickens only, and that every individual piece will be cooked to order. So, if you're a diner who associates local sources with healthier, greener eating or small-batch food with better taste, LeRoy's would seem to have potential.

On the other hand, there are also paper signs disclosing "There's pork in that there chicken."

What? Pork in the chicken? Yes, that's right: in a world where virtually everyone has switched to frying food in healthier vegetable oils, one of LeRoy's selling points is the fact that all their chicken is fried in good, old-fashioned lard.

Grandma used it. Doesn't that make it good for you? We shrugged off our concerns and placed our orders: one chicken breast each, one order of fries, and one order of mac and cheese.

By the way: if you've been buying your chicken at the Publix (where a few bucks buys a bucket of meat), you're in for sticker shock at LeRoy's. The one-piece combo (one piece of white meat, one small side, and one biscuit) is eight dollars -- and that's before you buy a drink.

After placing our orders, we waited about ten minutes for our piping-hot chicken breasts to arrive. I'm happy to tell you that LeRoy's chicken is well-seasoned and crispy, juicy throughout, and remarkably tasty. But I must also tell you this: our food was pretty darn greasy.

The chicken? Fried in lard. The biscuits? Made with lard. The french fries? Boiled in liquid pig fat.

As a result, everything is crispy and well-browned and smells faintly of pork chops … but it's also loaded, dripping, and saturated with grease. After eating it, we could actually feel our arteries banging around like bad plumbing … and all we wanted to do was run to Wal-Mart, buy some cheap Rubbermaid fixtures for the house, and immobilize ourselves on the couch, moving nothing but the finger on the remote control.

As an occasional treat, I'm sure there's nothing wrong with one piece of chicken from the LFC. The service is quick, takeout business looked brisk, and the staff is helpful and friendly. And it's true: one way to get noticed in a market saturated with options is to buck current trends and offer something the other outlets shy away from.

We enjoyed the adventure, but one serving was all I needed to know LeRoy's won't be on my Indulgence Day list going forward. When the hankering for fried chicken hits, you'll find me at the Colonnade, where at least no pigs were harmed in the making of my drumstick.

[TAO] Five Flavors! Five Sounds! Five Colors! Now with More Everything!

"Five colors blind the eyes.
Five sounds deafen the ears.
Five flavors numb the mouth."
-- Tao te Ching, Chapter 12

According to the Tao te Ching's ancient wisdom, too much of anything is a bad thing.

But you didn't need an ancient Chinese manuscript to tell you that, did you?

Overindulgence in food made me obese. I ate too much. I ate without restraint. I ate without regard for quality or nutrition. Worse, I ate without thinking.

Often, I gobbled things down so quickly I barely tasted them. Even more often, I ate long past the point of satisfaction, packing food in long after my belly felt full. My blood pressure skyrocketed. My legs began swelling. My breath wheezed in my throat. My gall bladder failed. Small wonder.

How much better:

- to eat more good food

- to eat less bad food

- to make better choices

- to savor each bite

- to relish the occasional treat

- to feel more alive.

My drug of choice was food. Yours might be television, or alcohol, or work, or any number of distractions or fears: whatever keeps you from being as awake and aware and alive as you can be.

Here's an ancient Chinese secret for you, then: A little less of a good thing can make life much richer.

Week 2 on the 4-Hour Body Plan

Clyde and I have completed two weeks on Tim Ferris' Four-Hour Body plan, a program emphasizing self-experimentation and frequent measurement as a way of achieving health and weight-loss goals. 

In two weeks, I'm down from nearly 230 to 219. But weight doesn't tell the whole story. My neck measurement shrank from nearly 18 inches to 17, my hips from 42 to 41.5, and my tummy from 42 to 40.5.

I've achieved those changes by doing nothing more than tweaking my eating habits. Instead of choosing greasy, cheesy, fried food every meal and sugary, salty snacks in between, I'm eating more vegetables than I've ever eaten in my life and, six days a week, limiting my intake of carbohydrates. One day a week -- for us, Saturday -- is Indulgence Day, when we can eat as much as we want of anything we want. 

There's nothing revolutionary or magical about this approach to eating. If you're familiar with fad diets, the 4HB guidelines borrow a lot from Atkins (with less dairy and more vegetables), Fit for Life, the Carbohydrate Addicts' Diet, and others. But instead of emphasizing slavish dedication to lists of approved or prohibited foods, the 4HB focus is more on self-experimentation ("What works?") and measurement ("What's changing?"). 

For me, eating more vegetables (beans, kale, spinach, tomatoes, broccoli, asparagus, carrots, corn) and lean meat while avoiding carbs (potatoes, rice, bread, pasta, sugar) for six out of seven days a week is resulting in steady, effortless weight loss. I'm not hungry. I don't have cravings. And because I know I can have all the pizza, chocolate, cinnamon rolls, fried chicken, and spaghetti I want come Saturday, I don't feel deprived. 

I know from experience that my indulgences on Indulgence Day will add a pound or two to the scales come Sunday morning. I don't get distracted by that, though, because now I'm focused on trends, not single measurements. I didn't gain 50 extra pounds overnight; I won't lose them overnight, either. 

Should we exercise more? Yes. And we may explore adding more exercise, in the future. For now, though, we're making one small change -- which really has more to do with awareness than diet -- and living with that change a bit before tackling anything else.

Week Three starts today, and I'm in a good place.

Top Ten Treats to Try in Turkey

Turkish Coffee. An upper layer as thick as molasses, a scorching liquid center, and a thick, gooey sediment on bottom, all compressed into a cup stolen from a little girl's tea party. It's intense, and you do feel a spike from the infusion of caffeine, but it's definitely an acquired taste ... and not for the faint-hearted.

Turkish Delight. Imagine cubed gummi bears, shot through with nuts, rolled in powered sugar. Machine-made varieties abound, boxed and shrink-wrapped for easy travel, but handmade versions (particularly the rose flavor) are sweeter, easier to chew, and more flavorful.

Ekmek. Turks believe Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden of Eden because they learned the secret of Ekmek from the Archangel Gabriel. After sampling ekmek, you might agree. Loaves come puffed up like footballs, then collapse and exhale their fragrant, airy center when you tear away the bread. Exquisite.

Simit. Untwist a soft pretzel, make the dough into a ring, slather it with sesame seeds, then brown it until crispy, and you get simit, a breakfast bread sold by street vendors all over the Sultanahmet district. Served fresh, it's a delight; served cold out of a vendor's stall? Not recommended.

Acili Ezme. Mash tomatoes with hot spices, onions, and an assortment of herbs, and you get acili ezme: a thick, rich Turkish salsa perfect for dipping your ekmek in. We ordered many a plate of meze (appetizers) while in Istanbul; the acili ezme was always the first component of the assortment to disappear.

Dolma. You've had this at Greek restaurants -- stubby cigar-shaped rolls of grape leaves, stuffed with rice, peppers, tomato, and eggplant. I thought the Turkish variety was more oily than others, but that just made it go down easier.

Ali Pasa Kebab. Finely minced meat (usually lamb) in a thick, spicy sauce, usually served over bread or rice and accompanied by fresh veggies. Chili pepper makes it an eye-opener, but the initial burst of heat quickly gives way to pure, savory, meaty nirvana.

Baklava. Meat House served us homemade baklava, made with honey and topped with a generous layer of ground pistachios. Cafe Rumist's entry was more like Greek baklava, but infused with a sweet, sticky sugar syrup. Both were good, but I preferred the honey-made variety.

Apple Tea. Every carpet salesman in istanbul will offer you a tiny glass of apple tea, which tastes like fiercely hot cider. The flavor is more intense than Americans expect from a tea. I'm already browsing World Market and Whole Foods for the brands we saw in Turkey.

Sultac. Think creme brule made with rice pudding: a scorched skein on top, protecting a chilled sea of sweet, creamy goodness below. The perfect end to a spicy, meaty meal!

A Culinary Christmas Card to Our Favorite Atlanta Eateries

What makes a restaurant great?

Criteria differ from person to person, but for me, a great restaurant earns high marks in four important categories: food, friendliness, consistency, and affordability.

After reviewing our dining patterns over the past year, I've come up with a short list of restaurants that, again and again, earn high marks in all four categories. These are our can't-miss, must-go, good times local joints. If they aren't on your personal list, they ought to be.

The King and I. You can pay a lot more for Thai food in this town, but at this long-tenured restaurant in Ainsley Mall, the friendly staff serves up no-frills Thai home cooking that is consistently delicious and remarkably affordable. It's on our "at least once a week" list.

Roxx. Originally uneven and iffy, this affable Cheshire Bridge eatery has grown into a dependable destination for right-priced comfort food. The management is affectionate -- it's not unusual to see the staff bear-hugging the regulars -- and the specials, including the honey barbecue chicken, offer good food at a great value.

La Fonda (West Midtown Location). The margaritas are ice-cold, the wrought-iron pans of seafood paella are hot, and the Mexican/Spanish/Cuban fare at La Fonda is a cut above the dishes cranked out at other chips-and-salsa joints inside the Perimeter. While the location on Ponce de Leon is not a favorite due to parking woes and an increasingly sketchy neighborhood scene, we cross the bridge to West Midtown at least once a week.

The Colonnade. The low-priced early bird specials and huge platters of fried chicken, friend shrimp, turnip greens, fried okra, mac and cheese, and more have us rushing to this Atlanta mainstay as often as our caloric intake limits will allow. Popular with the "gays and grays" crowd, this place is always a hit with friends from out of town.

Radial. Not so great on weekdays, this joint is jumpin' on weekends, when the specials (like Grandma Radial's praline French toast) combine fresh and organic ingredients to create breakfasts that can't be beat. Add a side of applewood smoked bacon and a cup of Atlanta's best coffee, and rediscover what breakfast is supposed to be.

Grand China. Insane lunch specials and intensely delicious dinner entrees offset the 1980's vibe of this reliable (and often overlooked) Buckhead gem. You can't go wrong with the lemon chicken or any Chinese dish on Grand China's menu -- though I don't recommend their Thai offerings at all.

Fuze Burger. Visitors love this sleek little burger joint next door to MF Sushi on Ponce ... and with good reason. Unique recipes, tasty sides, and the staff's casual, laid-back attitude make this beer-and-burger diner one of those places you look forward to going back to.

Einstein's. After completely losing its way from 2008-2009, this neighborhood spot (favored, in good weather, for its great patio) is once again plating delicious burgers, good pasta, and a variety of tasty small plates. Since we live next door, I'm glad they've made a comeback!

Gilbert's. This cozy Middle Eastern-influenced diner has it all -- atmosphere, chatty locals, a staff that remembers your name, a convenient location, and savory lamburgers, gyros, salads, and filets. Go on Monday when the entrees are half-price!

Pizza. After a lot of experimentation, I still don't have a hands-down favorite pizza place in the ATL ... but I do recommend Village Pizza (especially for vegetarian or specialty pies), Rocky Mountain Pizza Company (when you're lonesome for your college days), or Little Azzio (when you're in a hurry during the lunch hour). Honorable mention goes to Quattro (good if you're in Peidmont Park) and FlipFlops (serving surprisingly good, if very basic, pies on Midtown's Crescent Avenue).

To the owners and staff of these great local restaurants -- thanks for many great meals and good memories in 2010!

Saying No to Yeah! Burger

Does that look like a $17.00 meal to you?

Friday night at YEAH! Burger, I found myself feeling as though I'd stepped into a parallel universe where the U.S. dollar had lost fifty percent of its value. Why? Because our order -- two burgers, one side order of fries, a fountain drink, and a milkshake -- cost us almost thirty-five dollars.

I get that the food is supposed to be organic. I get that the burgers are supposed to be 1/3 of a pound. I get that not all burger joints offer whole-wheat buns and gluten-free onion rings. I get that it's cool to be able to order a beer or a glass of wine in what is, for all appearances, a fast-food kind of place.

What I don't get is why Midtowners are lining up --in droves! -- to pay ludicrous prices for so-so service and mediocre food. Because let's face it: other than the health-food hype of "all organic ingredients" and the appeal of available alcohol, YEAH! Burger simply doesn't have much to offer.

To be fair, the fries and onion rings were very good; they're made from fresh ingredients, and you could tell that neither the potatoes nor the onions had ever seen the inside of a freezer before being battered and deep fat fried.

But our burgers -- ostensibly the main event -- were dull and disappointing. Clyde's bison burger was good, but not remarkable. My own burger was under-seasoned, bland, and mealy. My coffee shake was also a disappointment, given its bitter flavor and gritty texture.

To add insult to injury: the counter help got our order wrong -- not a big deal when you're paying pennies at a fast-found counter, but a little more annoying when you've been asked to tip on top of already exorbitant prices.

So: we'll be saying "No!" to YEAH! Burger -- because there are just too many great options for delicious, affordable burgers in the ATL. My advice: when your tummy starts rumbling for a great burger, take your business to FUZEburger, Einstein's (where the burgers are occasionally on special for five bucks), the US Cafe in Buckhead/Lindbergh Vista, Five Guys Burgers and Fries, or, in a pinch, the over-rated but dependable Vortex.