There's a special margarita concoction bartender Caroline Mask makes at the Shed at Glenwood, a new restaurant inside Glenwood Park, yet another urban/suburban development, this one just off Bill Kennedy Way near Cabbagetown.

Becky Stein/AJC special (ENLARGE)
Dining room at the Shed.
Becky Stein/AJC special (ENLARGE)
Tempura vegetables with red pepper aioli
Becky Stein/AJC special (ENLARGE)
Whole roasted fish with garlic greens.
Becky Stein/AJC special (ENLARGE)
Roasted local beets, orange, sweetgrass, goat cheese and white balsamic
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Development or no, this one is a looker, and the Shed is as shiny and bright as a newly minted penny. It has all the right bells and whistles and catch-phrase ingredients to make it the talk of the neighborhood — a hip, sparse interior with a vaulted ceiling that makes it impossible to hear the person next to you when there are more than four people dining; a beautiful side patio (that's much more quiet, though these days a bit toasty); a gorgeous chef's counter where diners can sit and watch the expedition kitchen buzzing away.

It's also got an owner and general manager trained in the Here to Serve Restaurants group, Cindy Shera, who's hired one of her brethren from that family, Daniel Atwood, to helm the kitchen. Atwood cut his culinary teeth at Murphy's and helped open Woodfire Grill. He's been the Executive chef at Prime for the last two years-plus. Their menu? Farm-to-table, of course, changing often. The attitude? Relaxed, come-as-you-are.

And it has that margarita, a beautimous bevy of tequila, the Shed's secret mix of pink grapefruit, red plum, lime and house-made triple sec and a splash of lemon-lime soda. Hot and tired, my first sip was like being hit by an ocean wave.

Atwood's menu actually does change regularly, and from week to week there were several alterations — deep-fried softshell crab with a bright-tasting spinach and arugula salad was perfectly crunchy, but only for a few weeks. Over the course of my reviews, crabs have gone from the season and therefore are gone from the menu, a heartening happening. Enter chili-glazed duck breast, a little tough, with Asian flavors and an excellently made cole slaw of mixed cabbages.

"Small plates" have been rechristened "sharing plates," though I experienced no discernible difference in their size. A new kitchen has kinks to work out. The name game didn't alter the beet salad, which is perhaps the best beet salad ever. In history. Sure, I know. How good could a beet salad be? Especially when it's the beet-and-goat-cheese combo so prevalent on menus these days?

Good enough to change the way I thought about beets. And goat cheese. Life in general. Roasted local beets, red and gold, tossed with white Balsamic (yes, there is such a thing and it tastes good), orange segments, and the freshest goat cheese from Georgia's own Sweet Grass Dairy, all topped with micro greens. It's not served cold; it's not served hot. It's .... Magically room temperature.

There are raw, or better termed "cold bar" selections, and it's always fun to slurp back a dozen oysters or so, but both shrimp and scallop ceviches lack pizzazz.

From a list of "large plates," Atwood's skill beyond beets quickly becomes apparent: he's very good with whole fish (a snapper was glorious on the plate, head to tail, stuffed with lemon, rosemary, thyme and oregano). And he could batter and deep fry the sole of a shoe and make it taste good. Tempura vegetables, though mostly julienned red bell pepper, are wonderfully crunchy, and the flavor of the vegetable manages to push through batter and frying fat. This is most evident in the sliced spears of fried okra, a glorious thing no matter who's in charge. The only way it could be improved here is if Atwood would add a handful of cornmeal to his otherwise perfect batter.

There's a flip side to everything, and the Shed is no exception — a huge, Fred Flintstone-portion of pork shank is tender, but virtually flavorless. Braised short ribs over creamy grits with buttery rapini suffer a similar fate. Who needs meat when Atwood's side dishes can make up a veggie plate (something the menu should offer, but doesn't)? Build your own with crunchy, buttery-seasoned creamed corn, truffled fries and some darned good greens.

Dessert offerings of yogurt with medjool dates and orange blossom honey and strawberry shortcake are acceptable — even interesting — but hardly exceptional. Consider me smitten with the current profiterole craze — they seem to show up on everyone's menu these days — and what's not to like about puffy pate a choux filled with vanilla ice cream and smothered in rich, dark ganache? I'm in.

Shera has done her work training her staff, a group of go-getters who, though a little green, seem content and dedicated.

The Shed may come off initially as just another "been there, done that, got the T-shirt" kind of place, but in reality there's lots more pith here than platitude.