Day 83 - Buff In Atlanta

Author – Buff
From – Valdosta, Georgia
To – Atlanta, Georgia
Miles Driven - 240

Today’s Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157613021303275/

Kate and I will undoubtedly disagree on the highlight of Day 83. Kate would probably choose between feeling distinctly better than the previous day or a fantastic meal we had in the evening whilst my highlight was, without question, having the receptionist of our hotel point out where the gym is because I am clearly “a fitness guy”. When questioned on whether or not she was taking the piss, she insisted that I look buff. That’s right, buff. I could have hugged her but, with these guns, I was worried I might hurt her. It turns out that Georgia’s warm welcome is either based on dodgy eyesight or downright deceit.

Everything else that happened that day pales into insignificance but I guess I should recount it nevertheless. First thing in the morning it was tough to tell whether Kate still had the remnants of her migraine or if she was just sleepy but I thought I would leave her alone to sleep until check-out. Whilst this meant effectively missing out on the day in Atlanta which was still a five hour drive away, it did afford me the luxury of a) eating as much as I wanted from the deluxe buffet breakfast counter without snide comments or suggestive glances, b) reading a newspaper from cover to cover for the first time in way too long (an article that a high-school basketball coach had been fired for allowing his team to trounce another high-school 100-0 made me angry) and c) buying a pair of walking shoes to replace the pair lost to water damage on a ride in Orlando (I had a bit of an Imelda Marcos moment and walked out of the store with four pairs but I promise they were all very much needed). As I’ve said before, it’s exhausting being unemployed.

Nothing much to write home about on the journey up to Atlanta other than the miserable weather and the largest beef sandwich (not a euphemism) I have ever witnessed. In the ever-continuing American Fast Food Chain Exploration Experiment, today’s subject was Arby’s. For those unaware of this outlet, they advertise hot sandwiches. The house specialty is the hot roast beef sandwich so that’s what I ordered. Admittedly I had the large version but I wasn’t expecting the monster that was passed over the counter. I physically couldn’t get my enormous gob around it and had to remove a good handful of beef before dislocating my jaw to begin consumption. At less than $5 a pop, the meat isn’t exactly top grade but it’s tasty enough resembling doner kebab meat in both appearance and flavour. Without 10 pints inside me, it was OK. With a skinful, I’m assuming it would be heaven. Perhaps their strap-line should be, “I’m Drinking Arby’s”.

Having played the role of Angry White Man for the majority of the day, I thought it a good idea to give Kate a break from me for a while and go pound out my anger running the streets of Northern Atlanta. Now, everyone knows that San Francisco is full of steep hills but, as I found out ten metres into a 4.75 mile run, so is Atlanta. At times I thought my lungs were going to explode but I finished having swapped my anger for hunger. Time to eat. The website for my cooking school has a great resource that we haven’t taken enough advantage of – it’s a map of the US locating all the restaurants run by FCI alumni. Despite the co-owner of Repast looking like an over-serious serial killer on the web-site, we set off for the ten mile drive. Unfortunately, just one mile down the road, we passed a sushi place set in a discarded train carriage (I think this is the third discarded train carriage we have eaten in on this trip) called…wait for it…Orient Express. More importantly, it was mobbed so something good was happening inside. This meant we skipped the FCI alumni place but it also meant we missed potentially being killed by the chef. Orient Express turned out to be three restaurants under one roof (hibachi, sushi and Chinese cuisines) which is usually a bad sign as being good at one doesn’t automatically transfer to being good at the rest given they are completely separate cuisines and, despite what you’ve heard, they don’t all look alike. But, good news for us, the sushi part seemed to be run by bona fide Japanese…well, except for the Mexican lad who did nothing all night except spread rice onto dried seaweed papers. We took a seat up at the prep counter which meant we got the free show watching CJ and his pyjama’d buddy prepare their works of art all night. And what fine fodder it was. We started with some steamed, salted edamame (soybeans) and gyoza (pan fried dumplings) and then a selection of sushi rolls (spicy tuna with avocado, soft shelled crab spider and an atom bomb) and sashimi (yellow tail and scallop) which were, without exception, outstanding. And the presentation, as I hope the pictures convey, was stunning. I think they saw me taking photos and hammed it up a bit by adding vegetable carvings to everything but that’s just fine with me. Perhaps, going forward, I should tell people we’re food reviewers from the NY Times who are very open to edible bribes. My only minor gripe was that the yellow-tail was so cold that it lacked a little flavour but that was probably a result of our frighteningly short plate-to-belly time.

Tomorrow we get to explore Atlanta proper with an action-packed itinerary of hiking, touring CNN and Coca-Cola and checking out the Martin Luther King Historic Area. I was never that active when I had a job…