Atlantic Station In The Snow: Doc Green's Gourmet Salad's Review

We got the girl onto just about the last flight out of Atlanta on Saturday before they started grounding everything. (We heard later that over 1,000 flights were canceled). Besides not wanting a crestfallen, writhing-in-agony child around if the Christmas present flight to D.C. to see her best friend was canceled, we had big husband/wife plans. Well, big for us, I guess. Visit the boy-child at Ga Tech, then hole up in a cheap hotel for two nights and wait for the girl to get back from D.C. on Monday.

Hell, just watch TV and play Scrabble. (We are somewhat serious about our internecine Scrabble bouts. We liken them to war.) This was a good plan. Well, before I got sick, spent all of Saturday night rolling around with a terrible cough that about a solid pound of Sudafed wouldn't touch and then all day Sunday couch-bound with disagreeably colored stuff running freely from my nose and a chest that burned outwardly on every breath, along with the OTC stomach that comes from eating Tylenol and Sudafed like they were Skittles. Yes, I was a joy. That's why my wife ended up at the Super Target before game time on Sunday. To get away from the awful whininess of a man wronged by his own frailty. But we won't talk about that. No sir, we won't because then I'll I've to go through again in my head why we need a new fireplace screen and T shirts with little hearts on them (getting ready for Valentine's Day, I was told.)

Before all of that, but after getting the girl onto one of the last planes out of the Great Atlanta Blizzard, we met the boy-child at Atlantic Station for lunch. At Doc Green's Gourmet Salads. In the snow:

Food:

We aren't strangers to Doc Green's. The last time we ate here, I was trying to do the mental gymnastics of whether or not my kid was foolish enough to get his girlfriend preggers and if he did, what would my stance be? So, sometimes, being a Dad screws around with the enjoyment of the meal. Besides, their logo guy almost chides you to stop worrying about so much and just ride the big Kahuna of college life:



Indeed, Doc Green's catchphrase is Healthy As You Want To Be, so if you really don't feel like being all that healthy, throw another handful of the buffalo chicken strips on top of your salad. This is a Ron Paul kind of place. Anyway, you troop up to the counter and order what you want from the menu and you watch with an eagle eye as the kids behind the counter make your salad, sandwich, or wrap to order. I ordered a Thai Chicken Wrap and a cup of Turkey Vegetable chili. My wife ordered the Dr. Asian Sesame Salad. I don't really get the whole Dr. before every salad name but that's how they do it. My Thai wrap came with a spinach wrap, grilled chicken, crispy noodles, crisp romaine, tomatoes, cucumbers, mandarin oranges, almonds and asian sesame dressing. They weren't kidding about the spinach wrap either. It was bright green:



Here's what I discovered--the Thai wrap was too cute for me. It's more of a girlfriends out to lunch and talk about cute little heart T shirts for sale over at the Super Target kind of wrap. I got up and snagged a bottle of A-1 sauce to give it some sort of flavor so I wouldn't have to feel like I was going to the spa later to get my eyebrows and back of my neck hair waxed. I added Texas Pete to the Turkey Veggie chili to give it a little bite since it was acting a lot like soup. My wife was quite merry with her Dr. Asian thingie--but she likes to SPRAY her salad dressing on too. There is no accounting for that. When they make a Bleu Cheese salad spray, let me know.

Decor:

You walk into Doc Green's and it's like a gussied-up Subway. Order in one place, go around a gentle bend in the counter and pay the guy. It's bright and airy and there are plants hanging from the ceiling and on all the flat counter spaces. Some of them actually look edible, maybe with a Thousands Islands dressing or some of that crumbly feta cheese.



Service:

This will likely make or break a Doc Green's franchise. No one wants to watch a skeezy looking guy make a salad. The two guys behind the counter making the salads had the personalities of telephone poles. I suppose if I was making Dr. Asian Thingie Salads all day and I had to check with my probation officer after work, I might be a little sour too. But, really, thinking back on it, I definitely prefer a lack of personality moreso than an excess of personality--particularly if its an unattractive personality. The guy, possibly higher up on the Doc Green's food chain, taking the money had those Chinese tats on his forearm that are supposed to mean something like I Am Superior Death or Tiger Strength Is Mine, but actually probably say something stupid in Chinese like, This Is A Girl Arm--if I was a tattoo artist and an American guy came in wanting Chinese symbols on his body and he was a doofus, I might play a prank on him so if he ever really went to Shanghai, he would be thrown into prison right off the plane.

Cost:

It's reasonable for gourmet salads, I guess, at Atlantic Station (Life Happens Here--home to the first Eco-Friendly Early Care and Learning Boutique and other assorted nonsense) with tip and drinks, for four of us, we skated out for $40. As far as unspoken costs, I watched out the window as several husbands pelted their wives with snowballs and the wives not even trying to look amused. My wife leaned over to me and said, "You don't want to do that to me. There will be a terrible cost." I believe her. That cost can stay hidden.