There are few restaurants that still seem as dynamic and interesting as the day they opened, 10 years later. Aria is one of the few. The night I visited with my husband, Will, was a Monday – a night traditionally slow for restaurants, particularly those rarefied establishments that fit into the “fine dining” category these days. Aria, however, was buzzing, with every table packed and the bar filled with well-heeled patrons sipping cocktails.
Chef owner Gerry Klaskala takes it in stride, but with a discernible hint of pride. “We are in awe that we have regulars who have dined with us hundreds of times keeping us busy,” he says. “Even after all the years, we are still one of Atlanta’s best kept secrets. We don’t advertise, so the only way you would know of Aria is if someone told you.”
The meal started with appetizers, naturally. The parsnip and leek soup, delicately perfumed with ginger and parsley, had a texture so velvety it felt like butter on the tongue. The decadent foie gras (decidedly un-politically correct, these days, but it seemed only right to give it a whirl in such elegant environs) was seared with sweet Georgia peaches and a peppery arugula vinaigrette. Both were flawless. Will ordered the lemon ricotta ravioli (a long standing favorite of Aria regulars), layered delicately with a garden-fresh vegetable ragout and topped with salty Parmesan. I, typically the expert orderer in our family, felt an unfamiliar twinge of food envy, but he was kind enough to share.
Our main course was a dizzying parade of carnivorous magic – though, the restaurant is happy to accommodate vegetarians and there are plenty of tasty options for those who prefer a lighter, seafood-focused meal. The center-cut filet mignon was one of the largest I can ever recall seeing on a plate, surrounded by perfectly seasoned sugar snap peas, fingerling potatoes, shiitake mushrooms, crisp snap beans, and accented with a tangy tarragon shallot sauce. Something that may have gone unnoticed – had our expert server, George, not recommended it – was the menu staple of a Painted Hills Ranch beef short rib, positioned over a creamy chanterelle mushroom risotto. It was perfectly cooked – so tender that it fell apart at first touch, rendering the knife next to the plate utterly useless.
As for the wine list, let the knowledgeable staff guide you. They won’t steer you wrong and pairings are surprisingly affordable.
Klaskala is careful not to call his style of cooking “farm to table” (“To me, [the term] is so ’80s,” he says, since he has been working with farmers long before it was trendy to say so when defining a restaurant’s cuisine) or “seasonal,” as the menu changes nearly nightly, based on what’s freshest and most exciting. Rather, Klaskala says, “we like to say that our menu cartwheels through the season.”
Sometimes dessert feels like an afterthought – simply a way to add an extra few dollars to a restaurant’s check average and satisfy patrons’ indiscriminate sweet teeth. Aria is not one of those places, the pastry kitchen helmed by Kathryn King. She’s one of the visionaries of the Atlanta pastry scene, and one would be remiss to visit without indulging in one (or more!) of her desserts. Try the toasted lemon pound cake with juicy ruby plums, pink peppercorn ice cream (trust us, it’s delicious) and lemon cream or the warm chocolate cheesecake with a crispy walnut crust.
When asked how he named the restaurant, Klaskala tells us he scoured the encyclopedia for a term that embodied his vision for what his little slice of Buckhead would be. “What got me was the definition of aria, ‘a solo with accompaniment,’” he explains. “That was who we were to become: individuals performing alone but working as a group to create something special.” And, 10 years later, the definition still applies. Bravo!
Visit the restaurant at 490 East Paces Ferry Road NE, Atlanta. 404/233-7673. aria-atl.com.
Pictured, from top: Amuse of seared scallop, orange segments. Oak grilled lamb chop, caramelized onion and potato puree, natural jus (photo by Jeff Moore). Chilled lobster salad, green apple, fennel, creamy tarragon sauce (photo by George Sanchez). Hammock hollow farm salad greens, watermelon radish, shallot-balsamic vinaigrette. Warm chocolate cheesecake (photo by George Sanchez). Interior shot of restaurant (photo by George Sanchez).
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