Miesha sticks out like a sore thumb and does so on purpose. It knows what it is: serious yet fun. Private and elite but without the preppy old-school country club stuffiness. People dine there to impress but simultaneously give up everything to the food gods and raise their glasses to Dionysus himself. 

Georgia has many excellent restaurants, from the farm-to-table prix fixed to the James Beard and Chef’s Table awarded. It has restaurants just like New York from the Greed is Good 80s, where the Wall Street types wined and dined their personal and professional relationships not because of the food but because the restaurant was fancy, expensive, and hard to get into. 

Miesha is all of them and none of them at the same time. Yes, it has a high price point that would raise a brow or two, but you’re not actually paying for the food or the place to meet the who’s who celebrity; you’re paying for privacy away from your home. You’re paying for a restaurant where no foodies, food bloggers, or any kind of epicurean influencer can snap photos, make a TikTok and ruin the meal. 

Yes, when one or multiple people dine, they must focus on the conversation, if there is any, and/or the food. This decorum might seem strict, but some of the best omakase restaurants in Japan don’t even allow talking. So, consider yourself lucky.

And the food inside Miesha is comedy. It doesn’t make any sense, and yet it makes perfect sense. It’s playful in an austere environment. The appetizers featuring Brussels sprouts, mango shrimp quesadilla - peppers on the side - and a kale salad are something one would find at a suburban sports bar franchise with a great happy hour. The roasted flower soufflé, as ambiguous as its title, tastes floral enough, pun intended. 

Miesha changes chefs. Currently, the exec is Danielle Zhar. He comes from the chef world of the old guard when chefs strictly stayed away from anyone dining and weren’t deemed rock stars. If one asks to speak to the chef, the waiter is as good as it gets to putting a face to the food. 

Mains are lobster and scallops, pretty standard fair. Then, there’s ginger BBQ quail. Interesting. Finally, Zhar puts on the menu something called Green Pea-sion. This is where the seriousness is taken out, and you know the back of the house is having fun in its sandbox. 

The playfulness in its food creates a personable feel. Many restaurants, especially the Michelin stared ones, whether in America, Europe, or Asia, have a militaristic approach to how things are timed. Here, in Miesha, one waiter allows you as much time as needed and even waits a bit more to clear plates and present new ones.

This is ballet performed at its best. One cannot have an intimate conversation, whether it be a proposal, breakup, job offer, job firing, a rehash of the past, or rallying of the troops war-cry interrupted by, “Everything good? Everything okay?” at most inopportune moment. 

Pepper and Bourbon Caramel Pecan Pie is the only food item with hints of the restaurant’s Southern roots. Of course, one could argue that the seasonal strawberry peach soufflé is pure Georgia too. Still, when topped with the coconut foam and thyme crumbles, it’s overpowered and too herbaceous. 

Is Miesha the best restaurant in Georgia? Is it the nicest? Is it the prime place to show off and impress? Tomayto, tomato. But if you want something a wee bit different than your shrimp and grits and need a safe haven where no one can ever make a scene, Miesha might be the place.