2/15/2008 4:21 PM
For a smalltown, Arkansan boy, unbuckled from the Bible belt, now living in the big, "sexy" New York City, there is nothing more comforting, especially on a cold, drizzling evening, than heading into a warm, restaurant to gobble down some good ole southern cooking. You must know what I mean. If you are not from the south, picture these homemade delicacies: mashed potatoes smothered in dark gravy, baked macaroni in creamy velveeta cheese, barbequed red ribs, fresh lima beans, fried chicken legs, cornbread full of kernels, hot fried green okra, sweet candied yams, buttermilk biscuits lavished in white gravy, pork chops done just so, buttered corn steaming, sufferin' succotash, yes, everything that might be bad for the body and heart yet so DEFINITELY good for the soul. And in the Big Apple, if you have a hankering for southern cooking, it rightly comes in the form of "soul food" at some of the best soul food restaurants in the Northeast. You just have to find them.
Now I have lived in New York for over 11 years (I know, I can hardly believe it myself), so you can rest assured that I have sought out many, many Southern & Soul Food restaurants in the city. Let's see. . . In Harlem, I've been to Miss Mamie's Spoonbread Too to have banana bread pudding as my entree, Dinosaur Bar-B-Que, where I always leave way too full, burping and teetering on sweet iced tea, and Manna's Soul Food & Salad Bar, just like any other salad bar, except all the fixings will have no trouble putting meat on your bones. At Astor Place, Acme Bar and Grill has the BEST fried okra in town, although not nearly as good as my grandmother's of course. In midtown, there's Virgil's Real BBQ, frequented by corporate types of all sorts, and in the Village, you can get the absolutely best southern breakfast at the Pink Teacup. Just off of Union Square, I head to Chat-n-Chew, and on the Upper West Side to Rack and Soul or Shark Bar, which offers the most delicious southern cuisine while dining in a very posh ambiance. I COULD go on, but I think you get the idea. Yes, I have ventured out and about to find my comfort food and have not been disappointed in the least. (No, it's not home, but it's pretty darn close!)
So when my friend, Nathan, and I made plans to have dinner together on Wednesday night, I was surprised that when he suggested we go to Sylvia's, one of the most famous Soul Food restaurants in Harlem and in the city, I realized that in all the time I have been here, I had never been there! I mean, they call Sylvia "The Queen of Soul Food" for grits' sake!
The rain that had continued all day had died down considerably, it was only misting a little, so we walked the blocks across 125th Street instead of catching the bus. There "she" sat on Lenox/Malcom X Boulevard between 126th and 127th with lights all aglow, inviting us to come on in and have some supper. We went in and sat at the bar to wait for Nathan's partner, Leslye, and ordered the fried catfish fingers, which were quite good. It's EXTREMELY hard to find GOOD catfish in the city. Absolutely nothing can compare to the amazingly tasty catfish you can get at an Arkansas fish fry, where people from all over the community pop by a farmer's shop and lunch on freshly fried catfish and homemade hushpuppies. (My mouth is watering just thinking about it, and I've already eaten!) Once Leslye got there, we sat at a table near the front and ordered. The place was packed with people, including the famous Sylvia herself, who sat off at a side table, dressed in a jacket covered in the Sylvia's logo, ate smothered meatloaf and collard greens and observed her patrons, occasionally having her picture made with a fan. She watched the tables so closely, I wondered if she was trying to determine what the looks on our faces meant as we took big bites. I had the fried chicken, buttered corn, and macaroni and cheese, along with their special sweet iced tea mixed with lemonade that they call an "uptown". Overall, it was pretty good, but I must confess that I have had much better in the city. No offense, Sylvia. Still, the home cooking, along with great company, certainly made me smile and think back to Arkansas, gratefully remembering all the good things and good food.
Unfortunately, once I arrived at my apartment and raced through the door down the hall to the bathroom pulling at my belt, I was also able to reminisce about the first time I had to have a spoonful of that pink stuff that I thought tasted like bubblegum.
Is home where the heart is or where the stomach is moody?
