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| - Atria's is currently running its Oktoberfest promotion, something I wasn't aware of considering this was my first trip to any of its franchises. How ironic is it that my first Atria's experience happened to be at THE first Atria's, the one founded 82 years ago?
Kay and I have whizzed by what I'll refer to as Atria's Prime far too many times to be forgiven, especially considering that we've resided in its zip code for well over a year. Some weekend errands that took us up and down this South Hills corridor left us with excuses no more. We had to lunch here.
A chipper lad acted as a valet, parking the Kaymobile safely. I doubt the other chain-ish Atria's offer this, but do not allow it to put you off if you're worried about dining casually at a casual price point. Our t-shirts and jeans were not frowned upon at the least, and my wallet wasn't left gasping when it came time to settle up.
A hostess led us to an upstairs dining room that overlooked bustling Beverly Road. From the looks of Atria's Prime's exterior and interior, I felt as if I had been invited to a Thanksgiving dinner as the guest of a wealthy relative I didn't know. And in these Victorian-ish environs...I just felt like a burger. In spite of Oktoberfest, and the not entirely common dishes being offered for a limited time, I required nothing more than a burger.
Kay's enthusiasm over the special menu did little to dissuade me. Even tasting her splendid Sauerbraten entree, luscious braised beef, doughy, nutty spaetzle, tangy cabbage and all, failed to fill me with envy.
I was too into that burger, man.
Every Atria's has one burger on their bill of fare: The Award Winning Cheddar Burger.
This bull of a burger carries with it no fancy or out-of-the-box accoutrements. Mayonnaise, mustard, coins of sour pickle, shredded lettuce, tomato, and onion are all that come with it, and they are placed neatly UNDERNEATH the cheddar-robed patty (not only does this prevent a mess, but it also keeps the bottom half of the burger bun cool), which in my case was ordered medium-rare, something their chef achieved with the steaming, gushing precision of a champion grillmaster. The bun glistens with butter. The most perfectly actualized housemade potato chips, sliced longways, THE ideal way, come with (or fries or cole slaw if you must...blah) this unassuming masterpiece (I asked for a ramekin of their fresh buttermilk ranch dressing to dip the chips in and was a very thankful I did so).
What? They're selling soft pretzel sticks and bratwurst this month and next you're telling me?
Kay insisted on starting with the salted bread batons, and I thought I was at Olive Garden. Not that I hate the OG or their breadsticks, but they lacked sufficient chew factor to make them memorable. Docile is how I'd describe them. With spaghetti and a salad is the only way I'd have them again.
The bratwurst was brought to our table on a complimentary basis to commemorate our first visit by the chef himself, his forehead happily beading water like a car's windshield in a rainstorm. That he ran upstairs to give us some of the German sausage in gravy for free and speak with us for a moment was heartwarming. Kay loved the bratwurst. I thought it to be a tad bland and rubbery, but I won't gripe about it much since I felt honored to have sampled it at no cost.
Hungry minds can be kindred. Hence our simultaneous decision to have the Black Forest Cherry Cake for dessert. Each cornerstone of vicious,delicious, maliciously moist cake was filled with a tart, grisly cherry compote, and iced with a cadaver-white, cocoa shaving-laced buttercream frosting. Chocolate sauce outlined the body, a tuft of maraschino cherry-garnished whipped cream to held off some of the depravity, and a snowfall of powdered sugar to reminded us of dark days to come. A more fitting cake to celebrate the Season of the Witch there isn't.
To paraphrase the Atria's motto, it ain't bad to eat here.
P.S. Our good-humored waitress Kimberly provided nimble, top-notch service.
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