Restaurant experiment: Amy Ruth’s

Amy Ruth’s

113 West 116th Street between Seventh and Lenox Avenues

New York, NY 10026

212-280-8779

amyruthsharlem.com

A full day on the slopes merits a hearty post-sporting meal, dontchathink?  Especially when 90% of your time was spent falling down. 

What better to accomplish this need that with southern cooking?

I would suggest a burger, but hey, soul food works nicely too.

Amy Ruth’s, a noted Harlem institution, was doing brisk business but didn’t have thirty minute waits or anything.  So Immanuel, Lily, and I were seated in the smallish main dining room and handed big paper menus.  A plate of crumbly fresh cornbread was placed on the table; we gobbled down that stuff in record time.  But there were no refills on the CB.  Lily was disappointed. 

I chuckled at “Kool Aid of the Day” but not at sweet tea being priced at $3.50.  Lily and Immanuel opted for the Reverend Al Sharpton: fried (or smothered if you prefer) chicken on waffles.  Food twins.  Lily did order a side of collard greens however.

As for yours truly, I ordered the Flores Forbes & Jim Nelson: fried chicken which came with two sides.  I was ecstatic to spot fried okra as a choice, so of course I picked that and then cheesy grits.  It was incredibly tempting to order the Ludacris: fried chicken wings.  I refrained.  Isn’t that hilarious?  “I’d like the Ludacris.”   

The fried skin, aka heart attack, was phenomenal.  Mmmmmmm.  The white meat was an iota on the dry side.  Being critical of fried chicken seems wrong, coming from someone who simply adores KFC.  But KFC is yummy! 

The fried okra was odd as the veg was not chopped, and the coating was thin, more like tempura okra.  I’m a fried okra veteran and have never seen this before.  Huh.

Also bizarre-seeming was the concept of syrup on chicken.  I am proud to declare that I gave it a go, and it was actually pretty good.  Now, syrup in cheesy grits, that’s a no go.  Had a little pouring accident. 

To my dismay, I was too full for dessert which broke my heart.  And the other two were too full too, and therefore I couldn’t mooch off them.  Wah, no red velvet or peach cobbler for me.

Restaurant experiment: Miss Maude’s Spoonbread Too

Miss Maude’s Spoonbread Too

547 Lenox Avenue between 137th and 138th Streets

New York, NY 10036

212-690-3100

www.spoonbreadinc.com/miss_maudes.htm

It was a dark and stormy night….  Bad cliche, but it was true.  Wayne, Greg, and I braved buckets from above to get to Miss Maude’s and were welcomed to a cozy little haven on Lenox Avenue.  There’s something warm and inviting about the place, with curtained faux windows and kitchen implements on the wall that would look more appropriate at some dead president’s restored house.  And I discovered an funky connection related to the founder of the restaurant’s family.  Good so far.

Greg ordered lemonade and drained the thing in no time flat.  I guess we can safely assume that it was palatable?  Complimentary cornbread was also palatable.  I always hated cornbread when I was younger, and as an adult, I realize that I had only been fed inferior product and that cornbread can actually be readily edible, especially with just the right amount of sweetness.  The three of us all went with chicken: Wayne fried, Greg BBQ, and me smothered.  Then I kept sneaking glances at Wayne’s FC and wish I had ordered my chicken crispy.  I have that malady in which other people’s plates look better than yours.  As for my chosen sides, the fries were fine with a toss of salt, but black pepper in the macaroni and cheese?  No, please, no!  As I’ve stated in a prior review, the cheese should be the diva, not a spice.  A peach cobbler was shared at the end, yay!  Peachy sweet.  I wanted red velvet cake but was vetoed. 

More like a case of wanting to like a place more than I actually did.  I was stuffed at the end and had to grab nearly half my meal to go.  Two for the price of one!  Our server was awesome though: so friendly and sweet and not in a fake way either.  Genuinely so.  That’s such a rare quality in New York; I’ll take it when I can.  She helped make the meal.  The clincher was when she offered us an amuse bouche of spoonbread since we didn’t know what it was and inquired about it.  Just imagine.  If grits and cornbread had a child, that child would be spoonbread.  As the website says, “Put a little south in your mouth!”  That’s a slogan I live by.

Restaurant experiment: Mara’s Homemade

Mara’s Homemade

342 East 6th Street between First & Second Avenues

New York, NY 10003

212-598-1110

marashomemade.com

It was Wayne’s birthday, so a gang of us invade Mara’s Homemade the other night to help celebrate.  The first thing that you noticed was a smell, not of welcoming vittles but of something less savory.  I liken it to a couple of steps above mildew, a damp odor.  The woman who I assumed was Mara put down some candles which helped dissipate the smell to the relief of all.

Mara’s offers up Cajun plates and Arkansas BBQ with heaping helpings of southern hospitality.  Following my rule to avoid BBQ, I went with Cajun dishes: okra gumbo with crab and shrimp, and a side of fried okra.  Yes, I like okra.  The fried okra was fine, with a thick coating that was crunchy and maybe even garlicky.  The gumbo was not really my thing, and I will admit that I am not a Cajun cuisine connoisseur, but it was too peppery for me and that’s because I am a spice wimp.  I tried a crab leg of an appetizer some folks ordered, and it was buttery garlic goodness.  The large menu offers something for everyone, even alligator.

However, I know my sweet tea, damn straight, and this made me feel like ordering it was a regretful experience.  There is such a thing as too sweet.  It’s like the kitchen poured a pound of pure cane syrup into the small ball jar mug.  Ew.  If you can find sweet tea in NYC, it’s usually not up to snuff. 

Mara’s Homemade has the atmosphere down pat, with southern sports playing on the flatscreen, napkins in yellow and green, blinking Christmas lights, a light purple wall: all Mardi Gras colors all the time.  The birthday boy even got some beads to wear but didn’t have to flash anyone to get them.

Restaurant experiment: Lookout Hill Smokehouse

Lookout Hill Smokehouse

230 Fifth Avenue at President Street

Brooklyn, NY 11215

718-399-2161

lookouthillsmokehouse.com

My rule of BBQ in NYC is to not eat BBQ because it’s way better and tastier and cheaper back where I come from.  I usually end up disappointed.  With that in mind, my roommate and I headed to Lookout Hill Smokehouse for their burgers.  We both ordered the Angus burgers with fried onions, the latter which reminded me of green bean casserole because they were small fried onion bits.  You have to order your sides separately, so I ended up with $4 of fries, luckily a generous portion.  Good fries.  I got blue cheese on my burger, and damn, the cheese sure was blue.  It’s not a huge meat patty but satisfactory.  My roommate requested mayonnaise, and it came with rosemary.  He ordered the macaroni and cheese which came with rosemary.  That’s rosemary overkill.  Who puts rosemary in mac and cheese?  The cheese is supposed to be center stage, not an herb.  At least I didn’t order that.  No fried okra as a side.  Boo.

The meat is sold by weight, just like Fette Sau up in Williamsburg, and the bourbon selection looked respectable, if you’re into that.  The decor is John Deere meets sleek modern cabin.  Outdoor seating would have been lovely if it hadn’t been 1000000 degrees outside yet again.