The night at Restaurant Eugene began with amuses of pimento cheese sandwiched between itty-bitty black pepper macarons and a demitasse filled with grapefruit agua fresca seasoned with olive oil and sea salt. Next came cornbread with the airiest of house-churned butter. There was that ephemeral first-run, soft-shell crab, brought in from the Georgia coast only hours before, fried to an airy crispness and napped in sauce Louis. On it went: sweetbreads with a mustard jus, truffle-crusted flounder with a sweat garlic cream, rib-eye with bordelaise. The dishes were decadent, rising to art form in presentation. The service was impeccable. And how did the car just magically appear when we stepped outside at the end of the night?

Then there was that visit to Bacchanalia in late March, the last week of service before it closed to move to its new home on Ellsworth Industrial Boulevard. The four-course prix fixe saw the appearance of Anne Quatrano classics, like crab fritter and coddled egg. There were odes to springtime — delicate fennel fronds over flounder crudo, gorgeous red-and-white striped cross-sections of Chioggia beets on local Capra Gia goat cheese atop a spring onion pancake. The meal was a celebration of the bounty from near here, capped with Bacchanalia’s parting gift: a loaf of bread that you select as you pass through sister store Star Provisions on your way out the door.

With the rise of fast-casual concepts, long-standing, high-end gastronomic destinations like Restaurant Eugene and Bacchanalia might seem dated and irrelevant. I don’t think so. Through ambitious tasting menus that champion local flavors, highly curated wine lists and remarkably informed waitstaff, these restaurants display a commitment to excellence. They are reminders that dining is an experience. Their gift to us is the special memories they help to create. It’s why we go there to celebrate anniversaries and birthdays.

But these restaurants do far more than make us feel like kings and queens for one night. As aspirational restaurants, they foster the next generation of chefs, sommeliers, servers. What will Atlanta’s dining scene look like in the years to come? No doubt it will include the minds currently at work at Bacchanalia and Restaurant Eugene.

— LIGAYA FIGUERAS

Two nights before my wedding, my husband and I went out to dinner with a few family members. It was our moment of calm before the swarm of out-of-towners and hoopla. We went to Sotto Sotto.

Our last restaurant outing before delivering our first child was to Sotto Sotto. Given that the baby was pretty much cooked, I’m certain I sneaked several sips of wine.

And a couple of weeks ago, when my mother-in-law was visiting from Texas, we went again. There was no big event looming this time. It’s just that Sotto Sotto is our perfect place — and has been for so many years now.

The weather was lovely and the glass doors to the light-swagged patio were thrown open. Our server was the picture of cool, expert elegance. Our daughters crayoned masterpieces on the table’s white butcher paper and hogged the Strozzapreti. They fit right in, despite the white tablecloths and wine goblets bigger than their heads.

Our crisp-skinned lemon chicken with garlicky wilted spinach was perfection and so was the earthy Risotto al Funghi and the three creamy nubs of Bufala mozzarella, enrobed in jewel-colored peppers and the most aromatic of anchovies.

I’ve never had a night at Sotto Sotto that wasn’t like this — reliably and simply exquisite.

Which makes me realize that Sotto Sotto is both my family’s special occasion place and the place that makes every occasion special, be it a life passage or just a splurgy Sunday night.

— ELIZABETH LENHARD

La Tavola sits just steps from the Virginia-Highland intersection at the heart of the neighborhood where I landed as a squeaky-clean college grad in 1982. Back then, the space was home to a restaurant called Capo’s, makers of a rich Fettuccine Alfredo and a famous chicken breast stuffed with cream cheese and finished with a sauce of brown sugar, Dijon and pecans. (Vivan los ’80s!)

La Tavola is a different story.

The restaurant where St. Cecilia’s Craig Richards solidified his reputation, it’s a cozy room where bright, flavorful cooking shines. I visit this trattoria again and again for executive chef Brian Moll’s luscious tagliolini with mushrooms and pecorino; his house-cured charcuterie; the killer wine program.

You can get traditional veal meatballs with marinara and a terrific Bolognese, but you can also swoon over risotto with whipped marrow; simple roasted fish and some of the most intelligently nuanced seasonal vegetables in town. (How about cauliflower and romanesco with bagna cauda; roasted carrots with kumquat agrodolce or roasted fennel with preserved lemon?)

Moll cleverly marries old and new, in a way that makes me feel at home and keeps things interesting, too.

— WENDELL BROCK

Part coffee shop, part diner, part bakery, Westside’s West Egg Cafe has hosted an army of brunchers for 13 years. It’s survived the bubble and the burst while serving one of the best (all-day) breakfasts in town. My go-to is the Blue Plate: scrambled eggs, biscuit, country ham and skillet taters. Pro tip: The bar carries a small but tight whiskey selection.

Then there’s Wisteria, which helped to redefine Atlanta fine dining as an early adopter of the farm-to-table movement some 15 years ago. This Inman Park institution is Southern comfort with white tablecloth service. Get the crabcakes and mountain trout. The bar’s list of simple classics includes a solid daiquiri, but if I’m feeling scotchy, it’s always the smoky penicillin.

But I can’t leave out the Colonnade. When I moved here in 1995, it was the first restaurant recommended to me. The people-watching and old-school martinis alone are worth it. I’m a sucker for the shrimp cocktail, fried chicken and lengthy lineup of Southern vegetables. Mac-n-cheese is a vegetable, right?

— BETH MCKIBBEN