The Democrats Potlikker to Profiteroles

By Mimi Sheraton/Atlanta

If they can tear themselves away from the platform debates, delegates just might discover something they can all agree on: Atlanta has become a diverting place in which to eat. As it has blossomed into a cosmopolitan city, it has spawned restaurants that serve more than the down-home fare associated with the South. Even so, visitors should first sample the native cuisine. That includes such obvious specialties as crunchy fried chicken with livers and other giblets, fork-tender country-fried steak, braised pork chops, fried catfish and black-eyed peas. To these are added local esoterica like potlikker, a bracing broth that results from cooking pork with greens and is best accented with a dash of Tabasco. Small wonder that to some this is known as soul food.

Rewarding pickings can be found at Paschal's, near downtown, a coffee shop and restaurant that has been a meeting place for black politicians since the early '60s, where the fried chicken is at its crackling, greaseless best. Also dependably authentic are Mary Mac's, a huge and casual midtown restaurant, and the seedily relaxed Thelma's Kitchen, which is within walking distance of the Omni Arena. Careful eaters, however, should avoid two hyped, touristic embarrassments: the schmaltzy, pricey Pittypat's Porch and the dank, depressing Aunt Fanny's Cabin.

The best specimens of barbecued beef, chopped pork and baby back ribs are at Aleck's Barbeque Heaven, a tiny tumbledown shack that slices up lean, tender meat flavored with counterpoints of woodsy smoke and black pepper, complemented by a thin, brassy sauce unmarred by sweetness. Runners-up include the Auburn Avenue Rib Shack, in the historic black downtown area of Sweet Auburn, and Harold's Barbeque, the site of the best-quality meats, the most comfortable dining room and, sadly, the stickiest, sweetest sauce.

For a taste of the real Atlanta, every delegate should "drop a dog at the Varsity." This sprawling landmark is where the pillars of society line up with hoi polloi for chili-topped hot dogs, cayenne-zapped onion rings and a cool, thick orange frosted. And to see local journalists at play, conventioneers can go to Manuel's Tavern, the spot for cold beer, spicy Buffalo chicken wings, lusty chili and burgers.

Although Atlanta is hardly on the cutting edge of innovative cookery, it does have several elegant and creditable outposts of haute Continental cuisine. At the top of the list is 103 West. It is discouraging at first glance, gussied up with enough faux-everything kitsch to make one wish for a machete to clear a path to a table. However, once one is seated, delights appear, marred only occasionally by a lax waiter or an overdone duck. There are sublimely puffy lump-crabmeat cakes and tender veal chops with morels. Not to be missed: profiteroles filled with foie gras. The kitchen also serves an original version of pot-au-feu for which the succulently moist, tarragon- scented chicken arrives with leeks and angel-hair pasta, not in the traditional bowl with soup but on a plate mantled with a cream-and-chicken- stock sauce.

More sophisticated and restrained is the Hedgerose Heights Inn, where the chef-partner, Heinz Schwab, executes stylish versions of his native Swiss dishes, along with delicate nouvelle inventions. His most celebrated dishes: his version of the Russian meat-filled turnovers, known as piroshki, which he nestles on an herbaceous bearnaise sauce; roast breast of pheasant with Swiss chard and a mellow stew of apples and pears; and roseate medallions of venison with wild mushrooms and a cream-lightened game sauce. Only the spaetzle are too dry, and the classic Swiss potato pancake, roesti, lacks the , characteristic crispness. Nearby is the stunning Milanese postmodern setting at La Grotta. Avoid its overly creamy concoctions and bizarre combinations of meat and shellfish in favor of more traditional pastas and simply sauteed veal or fish dishes.

For those eager to stay close to the convention area, one option is Bugatti in the Omni Hotel, which offers decent, if second-rate, Italian food in a comfortable setting. Far better is Nikolai's Roof, atop the Atlanta Hilton. Despite an annoying 6:30 and 9:30 seating policy and an altogether corny menu recitation, the sparkling little supper club offers winy hot borscht, herbed rack of lamb, roasted guinea hen in a lemony olive sauce and a gently sweet banana-almond souffle. Asked why there was not more Russian food on the menu, the waiter answered, "The Czar Nikolai ate only French food." Smart man.