This week, I take up my slack and hit you with six New Place entries, proving that I am, in fact, getting a dose of Atlanta from something other than the stretch of 78 between Midtown and Stone Mountain. (Also, to prove that I am eating something other than QT hot dogs.)

A couple of weeks ago, when it was just 12 days old, we sampled the Avra Greek Tavern on Juniper street, across from Spice. You used to know the building as Salt, they tell me. The wife and I went for our second of two first anniversary dinners* and spent more than we probably should have, even with the wussy but tasty wine we selected. At the waiter’s suggestion, we treated their Small Plates menu like a kind of Grecian tapas and ordered a tableful of burning cheese, olive-and-feta-packed salad, dolmades, scrunchy-sized calamari and a quail. (Seriously, quail’s on the menu and was ordered for no other reason than that I found it amusing to have the small carcass of a game bird brought to me on a plate like an executed puppet.) All of this was capped off with a dessert of shredded phyllo and sweet, sticky syrup that was bizarre and wonderful. Service was great, the outdoor seating was comfortable and spacious and the food was awfully good. If I can scrape together some pennies, I’ll certainly go back and, now that I’ve sampled some of the other standards, order something with lamb. The kebabs are served with panache.

*Read it again. It makes sense. We used our first wedding anniversary as an excuse to go out and spend money on food, and we used that excuse two nights in a row.