A shot captured in Belly, in Virginia-Highland. Great scones and olive-oil bagels that satisfy despite being as unlike a real bagel as possible and still be terrifically tasty. I hadn't been in since joining the ranks of the mighty 9%. The nice, worn communal table remains but the store has turned teenager (to paraphrase from a favorite poem) in an old-fashioned way. Maybe it's the luck of the light or ghosts of Fleeman's Drugstore, but this little patch of intown Atlanta has a sweetness not related to its goods sold.
A few weeks ago, after lunch at Super Pan Latino (disappointing, but I have only myself to blame for risking a "pig's head" sandwich)
pal Jen and I strolled back to her house and were caught by Belly's facade. Jen's got a thing for those Maryjane candies while I recall the giant orange circus peanuts with fondness. What else? Boston baked beans, chikstiks, those peanut butter and slivered sugar candies. Oh, it was worth the stop and nothing like a jawbreaker to wipe the taste of pig head off the tongue.
These huge jars filled with candy sit mid-store. There are more on benches in front and behind and even more ranged along waist height and in the shabby chic cabinets. In fact, I had to look hard for any gourmet savories before spotting some oils and coffees.
Still, it's a friendly place for sitting and who doesn't miss penny candy?