Art of the Meal

Once upon a time, Tybee Island was just a sleepy little beach for Savannahians. Only a few hardy souls lived there year-round, gathering around the Breakfast Club's sizzling grill on winter mornings as if it were a pot-bellied stove in Maine.

Every job has its pitfalls. And it doesn't take long to learn the related code words: For real estate, perhaps it's a "unique opportunity." (Translation: "Snakebit location.") For sales, it's "creative financing." ("Bankrupt customer.") And for restaurant critics? "Continental menu," "Oktoberfest" and "charming inn" all set off flashing yellow caution lights.

It's Saturday night, and Tamarind Thai Cuisine is jumping: Even at 9 p.m., there's still a wait for walk-ins, but our reservation clears a path past the framed photos of guests like Tiger Woods and Vijay Singh.

I've always wondered why Atlanta doesn't fully exploit its potential as a riverfront town. Other cities have bars and restaurants right on the banks of its lazy streams and rushing rivers; yet, despite the Chattahoochee's bucolic setting, few restaurants offer a perch to contemplate the swirls and eddies.

>If you live nearby, the Blue Ridge Grill is simply a neighborhood hangout. But when those neighbors include the governor, one of the richest women in the country (Anne Cox Chambers), and varied denizens of Atlanta's well-heeled Tuxedo Road, you begin to understand that the perfume curling through the parking lot is a heady mix of hickory smoke and noblesse oblige.

We Georgians have the world in a state. This northwestern corner, along the winding two-lane called Plum Nelly (for plum out of Georgia and nelly into Alabama), is a cloud-misted tip of the Appalachians, which slopes downward into Atlanta's lush Piedmont, and all the way to sea level at Savannah.

It's a quiet, homey street, except for the swarm of valet parking near a squat structure with a purple neon panel. The former residential loft sports a ranch house-style picture window in front, revealing a troop of bandanna-wearing chefs madly whisking and sauteeing.

Who could have guessed, when Harold's Barbecue opened in 1947, the Hembrees' family concern would outlast such ironclad traditions as the Talmadge dynasty and Rich's Magnolia Tearoom?

The Ritz-Carlton's Dining Room is our choice for enabling the fantasy of a perfect holiday dinner, one in which sumptuous surroundings cosset you, like a gem in the satin folds of a Faberge egg. It's a leisurely repast that begins as you walk through the lobby, as Christmasy as the set of The Nutcracker Suite.

If you had a list of don'ts for a successful restaurant, you could just about describe Oscar's. Wildly innovative concept in a moribund location? Lunch that differs dramatically from dinner? A fresh, contemporary design next to... a wig shop? Check, check and check.