Restaurant Review - The sunny side
Eclipse di Sol updates the concept of welcoming neighborhood restaurant
Eclipse di Sol?
Cafe Diem, God rest its boho soul, was one of the first places friends took me to hang out when I moved here in the mid-’90s. The food wasn’t memorable, but the gritty, Euro-coffeehouse timbre of the crowd bred a casual sense of community. You could claim a table for the evening and disappear into conversation or solitary musing. And the cafe fit right into Poncey-Highland’s ribald, burgeoning groove.
I’ve never warmed to Cafe Diem’s well-received reincarnation, Apres Diem, in Midtown Promenade, though plenty of other people obviously have. Its patio overlooks a dispiriting parking lot, and every time I sit there it only makes me long for the vibrant perch on North Highland.
Neither was I much impressed with Rue de Paris or Muse Art Cafe, the Gallic-minded replacements that took up residence after Cafe Diem’s demise. Their thin crowds made it clear that the neighborhood was ready to graduate from the berets and cigarettes concept. Something lighter of heart, perhaps, but still light on the wallet and stomach, too.
Enter the latest occupant: Eclipse di Sol, James Erlich’s sister eatery to Buckhead’s Eclipse di Luna. Now this - this, people, is a neighborhood restaurant with some spark.
Come October, when the weather cools, I’ll have a better grasp of Eclipse di Sol’s interior. I can tell you, from a few cursory peeks, that the bar stretched along the far right side of the room is flanked with high stools and looks like a cheering place to unwind. Capricious depictions of the sun and moon embellish the apricot-hued walls.
But for now, the only folks breaking in the newly remodeled room are those who wilt without air-conditioning. The rest of us have sardined ourselves onto the covered patio to bask in triumphant camaraderie. A definitive Poncey-Highland restaurant space has found renewed glory.
Thankfully, Erlich didn’t repeat Eclipse di Luna’s tapas format here, since A) Pura Vida just a few doors up proffers some of the finest tapas in town, and 
no offense to Pura Vida, but I think we’re all finally winding down on the tapas mania. His other savvy move was to hire Patti Roth as Sol’s executive chef.
Roth, late of downtown’s Luxe, has one of my favorite culinary sensibilities in town. Her approach to pairing ingredients is precise yet playful, particularly when it comes to acidity: She knows just how to splash in citrus or other sprightly, intriguing components to offset what might otherwise be a leaden or flat mishmash.
In fact, you can taste Roth’s sensibility at work before you even take a bite of food. On the lower half of the “Libations” list of summery staples - caipirhna, margarita, a truly minty mojito - you’ll find some unusual concoctions. Grapefruit and rosewater martini? Yes, indeed. It’s not too sweet, not too sour, and the subtle amount of rosewater doesn’t make it reek of cheap perfume. It’s everything that an apple martini is not.
Lemon dissipates the sting of a mint julep, and blackberry and lemon balm similarly temper an otherwise straight shot of bourbon. These are drinks for adults. Who came up with them?
“Patti,” replies the manager, Jeremy Holmes, when I call the restaurant to ask. “She even brings the mint in from her own garden.” Why am I not surprised?
And if hard liquor isn’t your thing, don’t think you’ve been neglected. The vast, two-sided document of a menu offers a solid page of other beverages, including draft and bottled beer, wines by the glass, and every spin on coffee you could hope to imbibe.
Your thirsts thusly quenched, you can turn your attention to the chow. The first thing you might notice is how many different ways you can design a meal. Everything from eggs and sandwiches to heavier-duty appetizers and entrees are offered all day. The second thing you’ll absorb is how affordable it all is. The sandwiches each cost $6.50, and the entrees don’t climb above $17 (several are less than $15). We’re talking real neighborhood restaurant prices, gang.
And the clincher? Many of the dishes have such understated elegance that it feels like an outright bargain to eat here.
Maybe you feel like composing a meal of small plates. Peruse the appetizers and begin with the warm, toothy fava beans tossed in a lemony vinaigrette and swaddled with shavings of parmagiano reggiano. Pair it with cured salmon accompanied by lithe slices of cucumber, vodka and lemon-spiked creme frache and fluffy, grilled pita. Bring a little depth to the mix with the wild mushroom turnover, an unexpectedly buttery creation mingled with the mellow scent of roasted garlic.
If your appetite is more substantial, go for the pig. Roth can roast a pork shoulder to downy tenderness. It was a tad dry the night I tried it, though the juices from unctuous braised collards moistened it and the collusion worked as a whole. I would certainly order it again for dinner, as I would Roth’s Cuban sandwich/panini hybrid for lunch: The same roasted pork is layered with prosciutto, Swiss cheese and racy house-made pickles on properly toasty focaccia. Nice.
In the mood for seafood? I prefer the delicate preparation of seared salmon scented with lemon balm and served with peas and spinach to the prosciutto-stuffed trout. The ensemble of fish with white bean ragout and wilted arugula looks lovely, but it comes off oddly bland. It needs to be tweaked with one of Roth’s signature brightening twists.
I’ve stumbled across a few other missteps - scallops over a cauliflower “couscous” bathed in an unappetizingly sour cole slaw sauce. A handsome yet timid lamb sandwich left me hankering for Alon’s robust version. Gummy ricotta ravioli advertised as being served with spring vegetables, which apparently means a scattering of the same fava beans from the appetizer roll call.
And, sadly, I’m not much piqued by any of the desserts I’ve tried thus far. Chocolate Explosion features two ho-hum lobes of ganache-covered mousse that purr rather than explode. The Key lime tart is puckery, but a crumbly avalanche of graham cracker crust overwhelms the filling and meringue.
A raspberry-hibiscus ice cream sandwich sounds appealing and very Patti Roth, but the restaurant’s freezer has apparently been on the fritz for the last month and wasn’t available the couple times I requested it. A selection of berries, melon and orange segments is no consolation prize. It just reminds me how depressingly pallid most of the fruit available to us has become. At least the mixed-berry granita alongside the sad specimens was refreshing.
OK, wait. I seem to have gotten off on a negative track, and so many other admirable dishes have yet to be mentioned. Back to the savory stuff: I might begin my ideal Eclipse di Sol meal with a custardy crab cake soothed by the vanilla in its orange fennel salad. Then I’d plow through supple slabs of hanger steak, barraged by a cloudburst of pomme frite slathered with malt vinegar aioli. And though it’s more suited as a side to the pork shoulder, I’d have to order a side of dreamy mac and cheese with its crunchy, cheesy lid.
And did I mention the restaurant serves breakfast items, day and night? You can fall out of bed after a Saturday night bender and head to Sol for a sturdy fried egg sandwich with smoky (if slightly flaccid) bacon. A restaurant where I can get jolly on grapefruit and rosewater martinis and then return for a hangover cure late the next morning? Now that’s my idea of a model neighborhood restaurant.