BREAKFAST FOR DINNER. That comforting combination of biscuits, grits and eggs at suppertime was the soul fuel behind the opening of the Flying Biscuit Cafe back in 1993. When owners Delia Champion, Cynthia Moore and Missy Speert opened the doors to this eclectic-cum-electric little eatery in Candler Park, they started a bit of a phenomenon in Atlanta.

Becky Stein/SPECIAL (ENLARGE)
You can't go wrong with the fried green tomatoes with goat cheese.
Becky Stein/SPECIAL (ENLARGE)
Those wonderful biscuits and love cakes, topped with salsa, feta cheese and onions, are as flavorful as the original Flying Biscuit's since original owner Delia Champion helped train the staff on recipes.
Becky Stein/SPECIAL (ENLARGE)
The décor, which has a custom-painted ceiling and blimp, isn't anything to scream about, but be sure to dig into the muffins (below) or the hot chocolate bread pudding. -------------------- The baked goods are a good way to end a meal — if they're available.
Becky Stein/SPECIAL (ENLARGE)
Becky Stein/SPECIAL (ENLARGE)
The baked goods are a good way to end a meal -- if they're available.
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For one thing, the restaurant served (and still does) the kinds of food Southerners were used to eating in, but not out — fluffy, cat-head biscuits, fried eggs and grits, meatloaf and mashed potatoes. For another, the menu didn't serve red meat in its offerings of retro redemption — black bean cakes and a "virtuous vegan pie" made with corn tortillas and veggies were things most Atlantans associated with the local health food store, not a dinner out.

The concept caught on like brush fire, and soon the tattered-and-tattoed Biscuit, with its worn wooden floors, flowery oil cloth table covers and cherub-painted menus, was the inner-city hub for local media and politicians, as well as the neighbors in the neighborhood. It expanded, then in 2000 a sister restaurant opened in Midtown.

Last year, Raving Brands partnered with Champion to franchise the concept. Local blog posts went crazy with criticism, and we all wondered how an idea as granola-crunch crazy as the Biscuit could possibly be successfully duplicated across the Atlanta landscape. Location, after all, is everything.

Local franchisee John Slocum and Q100 "Bert Show" radio personality Jeff Dauler, operating under Let's Go Back, LLC, have teamed to put five franchises in place.

The first opened in Buckhead on May 14 on Northside Parkway, a location that offers up its own sense of singularity. It's hard to imagine the Pano's and Paul's crowd chowing down on veggie scrambles and black bean love cakes.

But chow they do, especially at lunch when this newly minted franchise is at its busiest. The flowery printed tables are packed with folks enjoying bites of bean cakes and turkey bacon and cheddar chicken sandwiches as if they'd been waiting years for them to arrive.

The spot, inside a strip mall that includes a Harry Norman realty office and a Houston's, is beyond disappointing. I don't think I was expecting the grungy charm of the original, but a strip mall store front just doesn't cut it, even though obvious effort has been made to add the hippy-does-homey touches of Candler Park. No amount of orange and purple paint and rolling pins hung from the wall can hide the cold sparseness of the space.

But the food has been indiscernibly duplicated. It's almost uncanny how much things here taste like they do in Candler Park. For her part, Champion has been on board from the beginning with standardized recipes and training, spending a month with employees prior to the opening.

The biscuits, always made with butter and cream, are as hot and fluffy as always, served with almost every dish, along with a tiny Solo cup of the restaurant's signature cranberry-apple butter. Even dishes like the turkey meatloaf, which I've never liked anyway, I dislike just as much here: the loaf is gummy and thick, with a weird, broken horseradish gravy that tastes like vinegar. The "pudge" — a family recipe for red bliss smashed potatoes, was sorely in need of a shake from the salt shaker.

But the love cakes are a muddled mix of black bean heaven, topped with a wickedly righteous tomatilla salsa, a sprinkle of feta cheese and diced onion. The cheddar and bacon turkey burger is every bit the hangover cure here that is at the original, too — a thin slice of turkey burger loaded with turkey bacon, lots of melted cheddar cheese and a smear of tart red pepper mustard. Ditto the shrimp and grits, though the creamy grits are, well, just too darned creamy without enough grit.

Baked goods are about the only area where Biscuit "B" comes up short — not that these goodies aren't as well-made, there just aren't enough of them. I need a fix of Reese's Peanut Butter Cup cookies from time to time, and each visit here the cupboard was bare of them. Still, it's hard to hate a slab of hot chocolate bread pudding made gooey with biscuits and swimming in an old-fashioned cream sauce. Or a chocolate-cream cheese muffin.

Frankly, I hate the assembly line idea behind franchises. If food was meant to be the same everywhere, we wouldn't all own ovens and cars. A franchise of the Flying Biscuit Cafe is like a Hollywood remake of "Casablanca" — why would we need more than one?

But successful duplication is at the heart of capitalism, and though this dining double lacks the Chelsea Morning charm of Candler Park, the grub is spot on.