Toast of the town

It’s in a place that I used to think of as the back end of Chamblee, that former row of dusty junk shops you might happen upon if you got lost while looking for a Chinese restaurant. The street was quiet and old, a nothingburger sandwiched between the robust commerce of Peachtree Industrial and the yum zone of Buford Highway.

Yet, now that this building and its block have been rehabilitated and new construction has replaced its crummier neighbors, I realize this street — Peachtree Road! — isn’t the rough edge of Chamblee, but rather its heart.

As soon as you enter what’s now the restaurant Southbound, you’ll see what I mean. The dining rooms soon fill, and the diners — dressed comfortably in shorts, ball caps and golf shirts — aren’t hot new restaurant chasers but rather neighbors, happy to have their town center again.

Getting to this point took much longer than expected for owners Dennis Lange and Mike Plummer. Bringing a 130-year-old building back from the brink of dereliction isn’t an easy-peasy endeavor. Nor did they shortchange their vision as they paved a private parking lot, set up a real patio and built a massive bar extending through the length of the main room.

The upstairs (gorgeous, the place you want to have your wedding reception) was originally earmarked for private parties but now seats the overflow crowd on weekend nights.

Once construction was finished, the fire marshall and water department further delayed the opening. Chefs who had originally signed on took other jobs. The liquor license took its good time, so Lange and Plummer opened for lunch-only two months ago. When they could secure a stopgap beer-and-wine license and put at least a few bottles behind that grand bar, they started serving dinner nearly a month later. Yay.

True to its name, the menu at Southbound has a gentle Southern accent. It is divided into the now-requisite sections of bar snacks, small plates, large plates and shareable protein hunks. But, really, all of it could go under one section title: good things you want to eat.

Simple, seasonal, local, honest: There is plenty of variety, but nothing that reads like fuss. In fact, I have found after two visits that the less this kitchen manipulates the very good provisions that come through its door, the better it performs.

At night, the chef is one Ryan Smith. I say “one” because there are at least two in Atlanta restaurant circles, including the former Empire State South chef. The lunch service is overseen by veteran chef and local ramen maven Mihoko Obunai. (My disclosure: Obunai, who was on leave during my visits to Southbound, is a neighbor and family friend.)

Whatever time you eat, the trick is to zero in on the fresh vegetables of the day, available as side dishes or in the kind of bounteous veg plate that is the South’s gift to the world. There may be a fresh corn succotash with a hint of bacon, crisp fried okra, or a slurpworthy salad of shaved raw summer squash with carrots, radishes and sprouts in tangy vinaigrette.

The kitchen pays attention to the international harvest of nearby Buford Highway, and with any luck you’ll encounter a tangle of green and purple long beans tossed with herbs and shallots.

You can smell the wood grill from the semi-open kitchen as soon as you enter the restaurant, which puts you in the mood for a nice chop or steak. I haven’t yet tried the table toppers, such as a $48 porterhouse or a whole bricked chicken. The juicy wood-grilled chicken breast I did try would have been been great had the skin been less wiggly and the wing bone less sproingy. But the just-past-pink flesh tasted fresh, particularly when it shared a fork with the perfect green salad served alongside.

Wood-roasted rabbit seemed like a misbegotten effort, cooked down with mushrooms to a salty meat sauce for doughy ricotta dumplings. A dish like this needs a more delicate touch.

I get the impression this kitchen needs a tweak here and there to improve its execution. An appetizer portion of pork schnitzel with chanterelle mushrooms was welcome one night; the raw center of the pork, alas, was not. An overstuffed panini came with rubbery mozzarella, and eggplant had the unfortunate texture of wet foam insulation. Eggplant sometimes needs that extra step (salting, soaking overnight in milk) to render it creamy.

But after trying a terrific smoked short rib — a honking, full-bone behemoth — with homemade spaetzle, mustard greens and a grain mustard jus, I have every confidence in the potential of this kitchen.

Dishes like this beg you to explore the wine list, which is a thing of real beauty. Lange retained Eric Brown, who runs Le Caveau Fine Wines just down the street. As with the selections at the shop (my favorite in the metro area), the list here favors naturally farmed and fermented selections that show off a whole wide world of terroir. Slovenian sauvignon blanc anyone?

The beer list is still evolving, but when there’s Stone Ruination IPA and Westbrook One Claw on tap, you can see that good things are coming.

There seems to be one more hidden treasure in this restaurant, and that’s the pastry department. There isn’t a lot of choice, and not everything sings, but either Smith or sous chef Bethany Colvin is a terrific pie maker. Both a barely sweetened double crust peach pie and a pitch-perfect lemon chess pie (not too sweet, sour or rich) provided just the final taste I want from an honest Southern restaurant.

After every meal here, I’m always tempted to go hang out at that long, boisterous bar and appreciate the good vibe of this crowd and the old bones of this building. As Lange said, “It’s a little diamond that’s been sitting in the rough for a very, very long time.”