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La Petite Maison
6510 Roswell Road, Sandy Springs
404.303.6600
Aria
490 E. Paces Ferry Road, Buckhead
404.233.7673
It’s February and most of us will be looking to score that romantic Valentine’s Day reservation. Some of you will seek exotic intricate foods to help rev the feral engines while others are perfectly content with ambience even if the fare is just, well, fair.
If the latter applies to you then La Petite Maison is probably a good option. The snug dim lit dining room comes complete with frilly French accents spoken by clumsy, inattentive servers who rely on their charming tongues to smooth over painstakingly slow service.
Don’t worry if your French isn’t as good as your server’s—if you can find him—menu items are listed in French, but explained in English. And it’s a menu riddled with standard-issue French options prepared with the skill level equivalent to that of an ordinary home cook. Salad niçoise with chunk tuna lacks swagger and gets lost in its own blandness. Thinly pounded veal (escalope) milanaise arrives dry and lifeless and about as nondescript as a bag of breadcrumbs.
We did however discover a couple items worth hanging your hat on. Pommes frites are blissfully crispy and a crusty homemade dessert of almond frangipane—a classic French pastry—served here with apple cider to wash it down.
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Warm lobster cocktail at Aria
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But most entrées lack the finesse a $20-plus restaurant dish demands. For example, a thoughtlessly sourced grilled ribeye topped with a scoop of pesto béarnaise is certainly edible but, like most offerings out of this kitchen, doesn’t possess any real distinct qualities, the stuff that brings a discerning diner to return. Even bread tastes fresh off the supermarket shelf.
Tables along the kitchen wall are awkwardly close to each other. “Our food was just mediocre,” said the elderly woman sitting at the table next to us. “How was your food?”
“The same.” I replied.
“Well, we expected more,” she quibbled. “And the service is just awful …we won’t be back.”
Being me, I returned 3 more times over a 2-week span. No chance I will become a regular, though I’m not nearly old enough, nor am I remotely rich enough to run with this crowd.
We had much better luck during a return visit to Aria. What’s not to like about Aria? The food is always solid, very solid, and the place itself is seductively provocative, heck, it’s borderline porn, from the mysteriously dark bar—so dark you’ll swear it was built for the exhibitionist—to the bizarrishly kinky light fixture that hangs over the dining room and has the appearance of some sort of disturbing space-aged flying semen alien. Does anybody have a clue? …anybody? I’m guessing it’s an LSD-induced erotic dream captured in memory, then, for some odd reason, turned freaky restaurant light fixture.
But the ambience isn’t the only thing heating up libidos at Aria; chef Gerry Klaskala’s fare can be every bit as sexy as it is flavorful. Buttery warm lobster cocktail arrives in a martini glass over silky, earthy truffle potatoes and braised broccoli puree. The satin-like claw meat almost quivers in the flickering candlelight.
Klaskala isn’t afraid to experiment with ethnic flavors. Well-sourced and flawlessly prepared cod wears a velvety, only slightly spicy penang sauce and plump jumbo scallops are served with Thai spiced lobster risotto and crispy shoots of ginger.
Pastry chef, Kathryn King, ends the night with a citrusy tangerine panna cotta that is light and refreshing—almost hypnotic in its simplicity.
Dining room’s of this caliber are too often plagued by stuffy pretentious service. But not here, servers are exceptionally knowledgeable but in a down-to-earth casual way, and attentive without being intrusive.
It’s good to see that this restaurant still remains in good standing among the best in our city in terms of both food and service. And it’s just plain fun to see that Aria remains second to none by way of kinkiest ambience.
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tom@atlantacuisine.com
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