Cast Iron

I was playing chess with my six year old niece (wise beyond her years, annoyingly over-uses the word “actually”) and she asked me why I “lost my restaurant”. I wished I could have told her that I drank up all the profits or the food was terrible, but nah. I had to explain to her that I lost my business partners unexpectedly and I did my best to make it work, because as anyone tells a six year old, it is important to always do your best. I explained to her that sometimes you want to do something with someone and if your plans unexpectedly change, sometimes it makes it hard to want to do it. She understood all of this with few questions, and made a pretty solid attempt to take my queen off the board. She asked me if her Aunt Sarah loved the restaurant as much as I did, even though I had not mentioned at this point that the restaurant was the object of my affection. Aunt Sarah did, and luckily for me, she loved me for loving it, even though I was always disappointed that I couldn’t caramelize every piece of zucchini exactly the way I wanted to (which is why we never served it). At the time of our closing, I was indifferent to the fact that my love of food and cooking had dissolved. I may have been indifferent because I wasn’t ready to move on, I was so far in denial that I had convinced myself that my actions were inconsequential and my had always been an unrequited one. I wanted to pretend that I had completed the entire arch of my career, and that it was time for me to start the process over doing something else. I took my niece’s queen with my knight, as I continued to explain to her why my wedding ring was tattooed to my finger. My brother, who works hard AF making movie magic all day, came home and I started making us dinner. It was a simple affair, some roasted chicken and vegetables, some herb yogurt, some citruses, some brown butter bagel crumbs, some finely sliced jalapeños, some salsa verde, roasted shallots tossed in fresh banyuls, ribbons of cucumber, fennel fronds I found walking around, roasted baby pimentos, and some very carefully caramelized zucchini. I guess it wasn’t that simple after all, but love rarely is.

I recognize that Cast Iron's cheeseburger was a well loved menu item and that for it to be removed without any warning was inconsiderate. Our burger was listed in the top 100 dishes in Atlanta last year, about which I am both appreciative and humbled. At the end of 2017, we had to make some tough decisions, and when the dust settled our burger was no longer available. Many showed their support for this restaurant since day one by ordering that burger, and I'll always appreciate that.

Great News! For the next several weeks, we'll be serving bacon cheeseburgers!

Not so great news: at the end of those weeks, Cast Iron will be closing its doors for good.

on returns.

We’re taking our insurance agent’s advice and staying off the roads today. We will reopen tomorrow like nothing ever happened.