Dante's Down The Hatch Review: Fondue, Crocodiles, & A Russian Call Girl

Our first night in Atlanta, (the night before the GaTech/UNC game) we ate with my son and his girlfriend. Anytime I'm with them, I wonder if they've had the What If? conversation--the one where they have a plan for if she gets pregnant (or from the other perspective--he gets her pregnant). I tell myself every single time that I'm with the two of them that I really need to have this conversation with him to see what he's thinking. Would he stay with her? Would he be involved, possibly marry her? Would she keep the baby? Would she abort it? Would she abort against his wishes? What if he wanted to abort it and she didn't? What would my rights be (probably none).

This was incredibly exhausting to think about over salads at a goofy, libertarian restaurant called Doc Green's (Healthy As You Want To Be!) but as usually is the case, thoughts of unplanned for events faded as they argued about him stealing a piece of chicken from her salad and whether or not she should buy a pair of Ug boots. (Could these two KIDS even get pregnant?) I shuddered.

So my wife and I decided to forego another dinner after the game the next day and decided to foray out on our own. She had a recommendation from a friend of hers for Dante's Down The Hatch. She told me about it and I recognized early that it already had three distinct pluses going for it and I haven't even heard of the place before:

1. Fondue. If I could get away with it, I would dip my wife in chocolate and...well, that's not exactly what I mean, but I like dipping stuff.

2. Crocodiles. Small pieces of raw meat. Large carnivorous lizards. This is very attractive to me.

3. Pirate ship with a jazz band. For people, like me, who are easily amused and have short attention spans, this combination is irresistible--swaggering swashbuckling and Diane Krall-like sophistication make for a heady concoction. It almost made me giggle in anticipation.

Food:

We both ordered the Mandarin Fondue. Not to be picky or anything, but I didn't get the Chinese connection, even though the menu said it was developed by Hsu (the chef) and mixed the fondue traditions of the Orient and Europe. It was 8 oz. of Tasmanian beef, marinated pork tenderloin, garlic rubbed chicken breast, and lightly breaded shrimp. Veggies included squash, mushrooms, and green peppers. A guy came over, after we ordered, with the fondue pot and fancy Sterno can on a tray. He said he was something--like the Pot Master or Fondue Chieftain--I didn't quite make it out. He told us not to touch any part of the pot, the flame-maker can, or the tray. It was HOT. Of course, with someone like me, that's just like Brer Rabbit begging not be thrown in the briar patch. As soon as The Pot God's back was turned, I was all over that thing, because it was hot, because the fondue pot was filled with face disfiguring hot oil and because if a guy can get actual fire on his table to fool around with and its not a swishy, stupid candle, he is a happy man--a man with self-worth. It helped that there was plenty of Amstel Light available too.

The plates with our pieces of meat and vegetables came out and my wife had a small stress attack. As I happily speared meat and dunked it into the scalding hot soy-based oil, she struggled with the whole idea of how to go about organizing how to eat. This was labor intensive eating. Like eating steamed seafood--if you don't get bloody doing it, then it's no good. She couldn't decide to eat all veggies first then the meat, or vice versa (which is how she eats--one flavor or dish at a time). Then there were four sauces to dip into--a remoulade sauce, teriyaki sauce, a horseradishy sauce, and fruity salsa sauce (with a hint of pineapple, my fave). She finally ended the overload of tastes and sensations by sticking to the teriyaki sauce and alternating the meat with the veggies. I think OCD folks should probably avoid Dante's--with all the fire and sharp pokey sticks around, it might not end well.

And here was a neat trick: The plate of meat and veggies wasn't a standard-sized plate--it was in-between a salad plate and an entree plate in size. But by slowing the process down, taking up to 2 minutes for each piece of meat, the meal lasted longer and by the time everything was dunked, we were both full. This slower pace to eating gave us plenty of time to talk--and more importantly the time to listen--to the couple sitting next to us.

Decor:

Dante's has a pirate ship in the middle of the restaurant. For an extra $10 per head, we could have requested a table on the ship where the jazz band was playing. We chose to eat on the wharf which is what the rest of the place is called. Our table was in a tiny alcove with just enough room for two tables that would hold two people each. Our part of the wharf sat over the pool of water that boasted two crocs. They weren't big, but they were real. We heard one of the hostesses tell one of the guests that you couldn't feed or put anything over the rail or you would be kicked out. There went my idea of feeding the crocodile a piece of chicken with remoulade sauce.

Beside the two crocs underneath us, there was a real live human crocodile next to us. With a date. Who we figured out later, had to be a Russian call girl. Our fondue pot was already bubbling by the time they arrived, sitting right next to us. The girl was tall, slender, blonde hair to her shoulders, lacy top, tight skirt, and as my wife noticed, the exact shoes that Dorothy wore in The Wizard of Oz. He was dressed like business guy casual--jacket, no tie, blonde hair combed to one side. We were so close we heard almost every word. We could even hear their thoughts. Especially his. I can't even count how many time we almost choked and shot teriyaki sauce through our noses listening to them.

--He told her that he was only drinking water because he had to get rehydrated from drinking so much the night before. He drank at least 38 glasses of water and asked her, wonder in his voice, if she noticed that he hadn't used the bathroom all night. He said that meant he knew his body.

--She tried to tell a joke to him but butchered it. She had a harsh accent that made her inflections hard to understand. So she pulled out her Blackberry to show him the joke. She put her fingers over the address line of the email so he couldn't see what evidently was her real name. My wife theorized that it might have been the name of the guy who sent her the joke which she didn't want him to see. Either way, this caused consternation in him and he peppered her with questions about why she hid part of the Blackberry screen. She wouldn't answer him and eventually excused herself. She went to the bar and stood for a moment talking to the bartender. From his vantage point, he couldn't see her. We could. She talked a minute then returned. Five minutes after that a waitress approached her and gave her a Goody's headache powder.

--At one point, he leaned over and got handsy with her and she said, "You've heard the expression, you can't rush a Russian?"

We groaned, finished our cheesecake and paid our bill. After we took a tour of the rest of Dante's we passed back by them and he was moving his hand up her skirt. I asked my wife, what happened to "You can't rush a Russian?"

Service:

There were enough guys in striped sailor shirts running around that we didn't lack for anything. Dante stopped by and we talked to him for a minute--a garrulous gladhander type of guy, he schmoozed us and after we made the Savannah connection he told us that the guy who owned the Barbra Negra in Savannah did his ship. We made the Montessori school connection and he said none of this would be possible without his mother studying under Maria Montessori and going to Montessori schools. So basically, I told my wife later, Montessori makes you stark, raving nuts.

Cost:

I guess somebody has to pay for the crocodile kibble. For the couple of Amstel Lights I had, the two Mandarin Fondues (about $25 each) and two desserts, we got popped for about $80. But I ponied up without a qualm. Where else could I get fondue, crocs, pirates, jazz, and a Russian call girl--all in one night?

We even discussed our own personal chocolate fondue on the way out. Just for a few seconds. But we talked about it. Heh.