Cafe Big Something

I was on my lunch break the other day, looking for a good place to eat in Atlanta. I decided that rather than going to one of the many chain restaurants, I would support one of my city's local businesses: The newly established Cafe Big Apple, located just outside the Midtown train station.

Despite the soft spot I have for locally-owned businesses, I was thoroughly disappointed with Cafe Big Apple. It's main problem is that it seems to suffer from an identity crisis; the place just can't figure out what it is.

As I walked into the restaurant, I thought I had a pretty good idea of what to expect, as the windows advertised foods like hamburgers, fries, pasta, and pizza in big, painted letters. But I guess I should have known better after looking at this:

Now I don't know what a "Phily Steak" is, but I guess it doesn't matter, since all but two items on the front windows were absent from the actual menu. It consists mostly of sandwiches, wraps, some breakfast items, and, for some reason, build-your-own burritos. I went up to the counter and ordered a turkey club, which, to the Cafe's credit, was speedily prepared by a friendly worker. As I moved down the counter, I passed a dessert case which had, among other things, this tasty treat:

My problem with this is that they don't tell you exactly where they found the cake, or under what circumstances. Was it in the back room when they bought the building? Were there some leftovers in a cake factory? What if it was dropped by some hobo living in the subway station? I decided to go with a brownie instead. I don't trust found food.

As I moved down the counter, I passed boxes of candy, aspirin, and cough drops. And at the end of the line, right next to the register, there was a big plate of unripe bananas. Seriously! It was next to the cookies and above the Skittles. They weren't on the menu, and there was no other fresh fruit to be seen. I guess the demand for bananas is high these days.

So I made my purchase and turned around to see a buffet-style counter with a big sign emblazoned with the words, "Hot Food." Indeed, it was hot, but the food didn't really fit in with the rest of the fare. There was a container of fried rice, another with mandarin chicken, another with some kind of spinach and cheese casserole, and yet another with beef ribs.

So we've got a combination of a deli, Mexican restaurant, coffee shop, mini-mart, Old Country Buffet, Chinese restaurant, and if you count the old issues of ESPN Magazine and Entertainment Weekly, a waiting room.

But what you really want to know about is the quality of the food. It's okay. I mean, it's fresh, it tastes decent, and has the nicest presentation you could expect from a small diner, but the sandwich I ate was really no better than something you might find at Arby's. So humbug to entrepreneurship!

So there you have it. If you like a variety of average food and nonsensical signs, you'll like Cafe Big Apple. Otherwise, I'd head down to the Panera Bread a few blocks away, or maybe the street vendor at the bus station. At least you know he'd have some interesting stories about all the cake he's found.