How many Atlanta restaurants have to be knocked silly by the backswing of our anticipation before we all learn these words by heart: soft opening? I dont mean two days of family-and-friends gatherings before the press release goes out, I mean a month or two of getting it together before anyones even heard of the place.
In Miso Izakayas case, the hype was hardly the fault of the owners. Unlike a certain pizza place that comes to mind, the restaurant had no propaganda machine whirling in advance of its opening. In fact, Misos opening reminded me a little of a slasher flick. We stalked this poor restaurant. So excited were we at the prospect of an intown Japanese pub, we trolled Edgewood Avenue for months, reporting on signs of construction, drooling at the doorway, whining about the delays. And then, in February when Miso did finally open, we pounced. Despite that the izakaya (which basically means place to drink) had no liquor license, we rabidly burst through the doors, an army of foodies, critics and bloggers, and declared boldly that it sucked.
Continue reading the review of Miso Izakaya.
(Photo by James Camp)
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Okay, soju, seju, shoju, sochu, shochu. So many different spellings for basically the same distilled spirit. Prevalant in Korean and Japan, this is a liquor/spirit/fortified wine that can be spelled in many ways. Unless you want to go to the Japanese or Korean characters that would be necessary to spell this item correctly in the native tongue, it's just sort of a waste of time to try to spell-check it and correct others. I'd rather just drink the product than wonder how it might be spelled in English, frankly.