Southern Comfort

One Saturday night, the special "smothered pork chops" indeed arrived overwhelmed by a thick gravy, but that was the only thing providing flavor for the thin, dry little choplets. The next morning I brought my goddaughters in for brunch (which was slightly more expensive), where we encountered dry scrambled eggs and cold wedges of hash browns. Still, the bacon was hot, and a gravy rich with ground sausage enveloped golden biscuits. But if you want breakfast after church, get there early: At 2 p.m., servers replaced the breakfast offerings with sliced roast beef and ham.

Day or night, the highlight of any all-you-can eat buffet is dessert. There's not much of a selection at the Cornbread Café; I suggest ignoring the rubbery sugar-free Jell-O and the canned chocolate pudding and heading instead straight for the hot stuff. Bread pudding here is soft and creamy under a crackly baked-sugar crust; and peach cobbler cooks under a slightly chewy shortbread crust, with peaches jazzed up by punchy spices. A big scoop of ice cream costs extra.

Other soul-food buffets around town might have better food or more variety (the Peachtree Buffet or Three Friends come to mind), but there's something so appealing about the Cornbread Café. Maybe it's the youthful servers, who are attentive and sweet -- even the teenaged girl who watched me eat three portions of bread pudding and gasped, "I guess they don't feed you at home."

I guess they don't! I also don't get the kind of musical selections played at this restaurant at home or anywhere. One night it was faux classical (including the "William Tell Overture"), another night it was Ray Charles and, during Sunday brunch, a brassy gospel choir. That morning's musical message was as comforting and filling as the restaurant's food. The fare may not be as miraculous as manna, but if you're on a budget and want a meal that will see you through an entire day (or, depending on how much you eat, several), the Cornbread Café may be the answer to a prayer.