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| - People on and off of Yelp often claim that I never eat at home. If they only knew me from reading of my gastronomic exploits, they'd appear to be correct. For example, last Friday night, a then culinarily-challenged Kay needed to do some running around in the 15236 zip code, and knowing that the good old Bill Green Shopping Center houses an Atria's franchise, we decided to dine there before "putzying arahnd" in the dollar stores of the South Hills as us 'Burgh folk say.
This newest (?) location is rather glamorous, making it the opposite number of its homier Mt. Lebanon progenitor. One might think Michael Buble could waltz in at any moment for drinks and caviar on crackers. Instead, fare made famous by larger, nationwide chains comprises the gist of the menu. Expect steaks, pasta, meatloaf, burgers, sliders, and nachos to challenge your decision-making skills while putting in an order.
Kay and I began with an order of Pot Roast Nachos. The bed of sturdy, crunch-mad tortilla chips were garnished with jalapenos, sour cream, tomatoes, cheddar jack cheese, scallions, and of course were topped off with that luscious, steaming shreds of the exquisitely braised beef. Our serving was so greathearted, it could have made for a shareable, pizza-like meal in its own right combined with my fine, bountiful ranch-dressed Cobb-ish "House" salad (hardboiled egg, cheese, croutons, diced tomatoes, greens, and bacon were on the plate) and dessert.
Alas, I was unable to finish my full rack of Baby Back Ribs, something I probably had no business ordering at a chain restaurant, an act that and will likely incur the wrath of the barbecue orthodoxy.
I have to apologize to the Southern Death Cult for committing yet more heresy, but it must be said that the sticky, honeyed pork pulled off its bones without coercion while hickory whispered in the winds. Perhaps it wasn't the zenith of BBQ, but damn, if this is the worst, then God owns a smoker and uses with regularity, holding massive cookouts for all the dear departed souls in Heaven.
The dessert we double-teamed was a "Chef's Whim" or "special" or something along those lines titled the Chocolate Mousse Crepe. Fluffy, grey, cocoa-infused foam filled thin, slightly crispy and tortilla-esque pancakes that were embellished by the standard whipped cream. hot fudge laces, and caramel streaks. Filling the crepes with mousse smacked of excess. Spooning the mousse from a goblet or tall glass with chantilly to roof it would have been an exercise in simple, pleasurable elegance. Nonetheless, no one heard us grumble over this more than acceptable confection.
It took me a good number of years to consider Atria's, and now I'm left considering a visit to all of their restaurants. After all, this crabcake lover's gotta see if they truly are "The Best in the 'Burgh" as stated in the bill of fare. I almost asked for that in lieu of the ribs too...
P.S. Keith, our server, was class personified and made no missteps during our dinner.
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