Buford Highway: El Rey del Taco

Buford Highway is the Chinatown, Little Italy, Tiny Tegulcigalpa, and whatever else Atlanta needs it to be. The real estate is cheap and savvy restauranteurs have snapped up the strip-mall fronts and filled them with delicious, ethnic eats that can't be found anywhere else in the metro Atlanta area. I love driving up and down this street, stopping at Lee's Bakery, and just making a mental note to check out the Pizza Patrons and Pho 24s that I pass. I intend to check them all out later but for now...

Buford Highway and some trucks.

El Rey Del Taco

I love Mexican food. And sometimes, I speak Spanish, although I find it funnier to speak it with an American Southern accent because, why not? But I couldn't call myself a true Buford Highway believer until I sampled the delights of El Rey Del Taco. 

Roughly translated, the name means The Best Cheap Tacos You'll Ever Eat. If you asked a native Spanish speaker to translate it, they might come up with something boring like "The King of Taco" which is not really what this is about. Situated in a wild strip mall that is also home to a ping pong bar, El Rey Del Taco slathers up delicious and insanely cheap food at all hours of every day, including Mexican Fourth of July.

J had talked about this place for weeks. She usually does that. Mentions a restaurant but we don't go there for a long, long time. She will continually bring it up in conversation, especially during our vanilla, white-bread-people sex. "Oooohhh... you're just.... Ah!... you're... just... ohhhh El Rey Del Taco." I felt cheapened by this comparison to my love and a taco until I was lucky enough to visit El Rey Del Taco.

The handicapped spot is open because these tacos are said to cure people.

I ordered a michelada using the Mexican PBR Bohemia as a base. That was my only mistake. Little did I know, I'm not too keen on Bloody Mary's made with beer. Or tons of limes. Or whatever else was in there besides tomato juice. It was extremely limey. Tart, in layman's terms. But whatever, it had alcohol in it so I'm not saying it was terrible. Just... you know, no soy mexicano.

The menu has a lot of stuff you'd expect to see at a Mexican restaurant: tortas, enchiladas, quesadillas, nachos, ensalada, bistec, and more refined flavors like cheeks and butts. Probably some wieners thrown in for good measure.

I blushed and decided to avoid all of the weirdness and dove straight into the taco section of the menu.

Goat. Beef tongue. And pork tacos. Side of beans and rice that were more expensive than the tacos, even with the handmade tortilla option... Either way, I thought I would order more because let's face it, tacos are for babies and toothless grannies that handmake tortillas in the back of a taco shop for gringos to write about online.

Beef tongue, goat and chorizo. Not sure which is which.

Chico, was I wrong! Not only was I full and satisfied and porked and cheeked up, but I didn't even finish my michelada (cause it was gross) or the beans! They were good, but I hadn't reached that point in my relationship where I was okay farting in front of J.

I had a moment to survey the bright colors of the dining room and in my taco coma, investigate my surroundings a little closer. On the table there are two different house sauces. The red, and a deceptive, friendly-looking green. The red one tastes like you'd expect. Blood. Not really. It's hot enough and peppery to add a little kick to your taco experience but it doesn't destroy your tongue. Now that's out of the way, the green sauce is a killer in disguise like Michael Moore. It has a sharp tomatillo flavor but adds fire and hatred to any dish you're smothering. Tread lightly with both sauces at the same time and your butt-tacos will shine. Bright like a diamond.

I went back two weeks later with my sister. There was an old guy going from table to table selling fresh churros. The smell was heaven in baked cinnamon bread form. He skipped us because we were gringos. I wanted to tell him "No no! Hablo espanol like a champ!" but then my tacos came out and I got down to business. 

Returned with the infamous Andrew the week after and had more porks and cheeks. Now he's obsessed with this place and gets all weird if I don't get The King of Tacos with him on Sundays. Ah, well. I live to break hearts.

Ammazza. Don't Go There... or Do...

When I was in kindergarten, my best friend Geoffrey and I would spend our afternoons at his house pretending to be Westley from The Princess Bride and loading up his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle van with Hook action figures. We knew everything about the snapping turtles and crayfish that lived in the creek in his backyard and ate a lot of Chuck E. Cheese pizza when our parents decided that creepy robots made for great babysitters. We knew nothing of pizza. I've eaten a lot of pizza since. Atlanta has some decent 'za for a city that is not Chicago or New York but I don't want this to be another Atlanta food blog and I really don't want to dog on a place when I think it could be good. Let's just say as a Neapolitan pizza joint, Ammazza has some serious competition.

Not pictured: Inconvenient, long-term construction projects on Edgewood Ave.

Ammazza

A few weeks ago, J invited me to crash one of her friend's birthday parties. We spent a few hours playing volleyball in Piedmont Park with Dio blasting on a boom-box. And then we wasted some precious time and money that could have been spent on Korean karaoke having lackluster pizza at Ammazza over on Edgewood Avenue. This street is home to my favorite vampire haunts. But so far, I haven't ate up any noteworthy grub on this stretch of concrete and my experience at Ammazza hasn't changed my opinion that Edgewood is a pit of despair when it comes to dining options. And no, I haven't tried Illegal Foods yet because Turtles In Time takes up too much of my damn time.

Table numbers.
The reason so many 16-year old girls use their parents' credit cards.

Ammazza is located in a beautiful brick commercial building on the Inman Park end of Edgewood Ave. The decor is urban chic. Concrete floors, dark wood, and sexy lighting help offset the sparseness of the space. You order at the front counter bar and get a number to place on your table. Ah, the new and wonderful trend of casual restaurants to eliminate the pointless hostess station.

The website for Ammazza claims they want to ball-out with good beer and good 'za. The beer list does have some really great brews on it, both local and international. My biggest complaint on it is that almost every beer on the list is $3 more than I'm used to paying for the same damn beer a block down the street. Great you have craft beers! But I'm not happy paying Buckhead gas-station 6-pack prices. Cut some of the beers off the list, or rotate them monthly so you can pass us some savings and watch your customers' beer consumption sky rocket.

The pizza menu is all Neapolitan or NY-style pizza. I'm okay with this. I've been to Naples a couple of times. I loved it. The pizza was amazing and I kind of understand the hype of New York pizza but aside from folding my pizza, I try to stay away from the oily mess of grease and tradition that is a NY pie.

Ammazza's pizza is easily identifiable as pizza but I'm not sure if it falls into either the Neapolitan or New York camps. It has a crust, cheese and toppings, -staying with me here? The meat toppings are provided by The Spotted Trotter and are F'n A. The cheese, veggie and herb toppings are all fresh and delicious. I don't remember what kind of pie we ended up ordering because we sat with a large group and everyone ended up sharing like an epic Ninja Turtle Feast. (I would've been Casey Jones, not because I hate Raphael, but he's a mutant turtle and can't really get the girl, just FYI.)

Ammazza's 'za

The Ammazza website talks about the special process they use for creating their pizza dough, which is pretty typical and shouldn't need to be talked about but-IT'S THE WORST PART OF THE PIZZA! It looks like DiGiorno crust that has been burnt a little bit in their wood-fired ovens and was really dry and bland tasting. I'm a crust-eater because I love carbs and one day hope to assume my natural-state of being an obese American. But I couldn't finish this crust. It really is a crucial part of a great pizza that most people overlook. I want it crunchy. I want it blackened by real flame. And if it's not thin crust, I want it to have just a hint of a gooey center, like a baguette served right out of the oven. Ammazza, ya'll please look into this and we can be best friends.

The Scumbag Steve of pizza crust.

So. Ammazza. Great beer list. Not great beer prices. Exceptional pizza toppings. Not a bad topping made it to my mouth. A wonderful flavor on the main body of the pizza. Terrible crust issues. I'm willing to give it a few more chances but it made sense as to why it wasn't packed out on a Saturday night-

BECAUSE THEY'RE MISSING THIS!!!

Creative Loafing Atlanta just published an article on Ammazza's archnemesis, Varuni Napoli.

http://m.clatl.com/atlanta/grazing-varuni-napoli/Content?oid=11460541

I hate that the CL writer whines about the charred crust and says has become the new pizza cliche. Naw, that's how you make good pizza in a real oven. CL hates on everything but I still love 'em.

Grindhouse Killer Burgers Kills It

I am an American and love hamburgers. Any rumors you have heard about me being vegan are untrue. From Vortex to Ann's Snack Bar, I've eaten me some cow. Grindhouse Killer Burgers is my current favorite, go-to burger place.

I forgot to snap a burger selfie before I ate the whole thing...

Grindhouse Killer Burgers

J and I started going here right after we first met. She knew the burger beast that was inside of me and insisted that I had to try it. It had 'killer' in its name so I figured I'd at least be amused.

With two convenient locations and two not-quite convenient locations, Grindhouse serves up delicious dead cow, killed turkeys and veggie burgers. You'll find the usual fries and onion rings as side items, but they also have fried pickles and Chomp & Stomp award-winning chili. I know, it must sound like it truly sucks, but I truly love Grindhouse. 

We always visit the Piedmont Avenue location. It looks like a converted gas station with a patio where the pumps were located. Dark wood paneling and lots of tile and chrome. Oooh! Sexy burger pin-up girl art everywhere and a projection of old sci-fi on the wall nearest the bathrooms. And while it is difficult to stay focused and scarf down juicy meat pleasures with all these distractions, I was determined to do it. Because these burgers are delicious. 

Pictured: The hallway to the toilets.

The Piedmont Ave. location has dogs. At least one.

I was a Grindhouse-addict after one bite.

The Grindhouse Menu can be a little intimidating if you're trying to find the perfect customization options (Choose a meat/non-meat patty, single or double and then add a lot of stuff to it). The number of possible combinations is... a lot. Let me suggest that you stick to their house burger styles. This way you n00bs don't hold up the line for the rest of us. 

I started with the Dixie style burger because I've lived in the South long enough to develop an unhealthy obsession with pimiento cheese and sometimes, when I'm really drunk, may start singing If Heaven Ain't A Lot Like Dixie, because...why not? Anyways, you can read about the ingredients on the menu but it was...well, imagine a mashup of Burt Reynolds from Deliverance (before he breaks his leg) and Clint Eastwood from all of his movies mixed in with Burt Reynolds from All Dogs Go To Heaven. I devoured it in seconds. Sipped on J's boozy banana cream shake, took the seasoned crinkle-cut fries to task and then got super depressed that I had already finished the burger. 

The burger is quite majestic in its natural habitat.

After several visits, I've gone down the list of the house burger styles. The only one I'm on the fence about is the Apache style. When I ordered it, the green chiles were rubbery and undercooked. Maybe overcooked. I don't know, I'm not Apache. Either way, everything else I've had at this Grindhouse place has been amazing so I'm willing to give it another chance. Plus, I've got about 400 points to Belly my way to a free t-shirt so... I've got that going for me which is nice.

Do yourself a favor and hit up Grindhouse soon. Monday nights around 8pm it's BOGO1/2OFF burger time, which is a perfect opportunity to give this place a go.

Stop gaslighting me!

Inaugural post!

This is probably where I should explain the reason for and my vision of gaslightATL. 

I used to love reading Thrillist, lying on my couch, alternating between a bubbling glass of Goody's and a neat bourbon for the hair of the dog. Months of articles proved to me that the staff writer assigned to Atlanta is most likely gleaning his reviews and list ideas from Creative Loafing and Yelp and is probably a closet racist that doesn't want Atlanta to use MARTA. I felt like my city was getting shafted. Is my city - OUR Atlanta - not worth the time for a paid staff writer to explore and enjoy?

You need to be in on the secret. The Atlanta that makes you want to live here, I mean really live here. I love this place and want you to too! Sure, this city has an identity crisis, terrible traffic, a state government that loves to screw us and the most average sports teams in their respective leagues, BUT this is why it's great. We're all a bit crazy. This city, this state, this region, this country and this world seem hellbent on making every one of us insane so I say let's embrace it and have a good time.

Dearly beloved, we're all being gaslighted.