Not your mama’s biscuits and Gravy…

My latest culinary obsession is New Southern Food, the love child of traditional Southern ingredients (pork jowl, crawfish, grits, butter beans) and modern cooking techniques (molecular gastronomy, anyone?). The writer Josh Ozersky, in an article in Time, dubbed it “lardcore,” saying “it’s meticulous, it’s ballsy, and it doesn’t care what you think of it.” (http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,2027672,00.html) Already popular throughout the southeast, New Southern is headed North with a vengeance not seen since Robert E. Lee. Of course, the dissemination of this idea should receive a considerably better response from the North than the one Lee was advancing.

Now, it’s no secret that I have a love affair with Paula Deen, who is a classicist when it comes to Southern cuisine (her empire was built on fried chicken and mac ‘n’ cheese, for cryin’ out loud). I have also long followed the writing of Pableux Johnson and credit him with educating me on the New Orleans culinary scene. He has never steered me wrong with a restaurant recommendation, introducing me to the delightful food of Chef John Besh at August some time ago. (Mr. Johnson works with the Southern Foodways Alliance, an organization that studies, educates and celebrates all things culinary and Southern. He also has a kick-ass blog: http://bayoudog.com). And a few months back I discovered that I could make damn good grits for a native New Yorker (see my earlier post on Ree Drummond’s Creamy Bacon Cheese Grits). But all this is traditional Southern.

                                             John Besh's August

My interest in New Southern was piqued when I read a New Yorker article  (http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2011/10/31/111031fa_fact_bilger) about Charleston Chef Sean Brock who has championed the reclamation of traditional Southern foods that were in danger of being lost forever. From cultivating seeds from the 19^th century to breeding Ossabaw pigs, Chef Brock is bringing new (or is it old?) life to Southern cuisine. And you know, I can find no fault with a fellow worshiper of the pig! This is a chef who seriously loves vegetables, so much so that he has a veritable garden tattooed on his arm. And, in the style of frugal homemakers throughout the South, Chef Brock pickles and cans whatever produce he cannot use immediately. He is as locavore as locavore gets and his restaurants, McCrady’s and Husk, both in Charleston, are definitely on my must-eat-there list. 

Chef Sean Brock with an armful of veggies

McCrady's Husk 

So you can understand my excitement when a friend recommended we try Gravy, which bills itself as “the first New Southern restaurant in New York City.” In a town where Southern fare usually means soul food or barbeque, Chef is Michael Vignola, formerly of Michael Jordan’s The Steakhouse NYC, is trying his hand at the New Southern style to mixed results. To dip my toe in the pond, I made a reservation for Restaurant Week, the low-risk way to experiment with restaurants in a town where there are well over 20,000 eateries. Upon arrival, it was clear that the well-meaning hostess didn’t quite grasp the logic of seating a dining room for smooth service or the importance of checking coats in a small space. And speaking of that dining room: the décor is a quirky blend of city slick, rustic and Mad Men mod, which I assume is the designer’s vision of New Southern but there was something slightly disjointed about it.

 Mod lounge at Gravy

 brick walls, hickory tables and geometrics, oh my!

Since we are both food fanatics, my friend and I shared each course. We started with the Market Soup, which on the evening we dined was Butternut Squash with Bourbon-soaked Raisins, and the Market Chopped Salad. The soup had good sweetness with a bit of spice on the finish and the raisins were a fantastic twist. However, the salad was underwhelming, sorely in need of a touch more buttermilk ranch dressing and a liberal seasoning (a little salt and pepper goes a long way, folks).

We followed up with Black Garlic Braised Pork Butt, which was served in a pulled-pork style (minus the bun), accompanied by marinated arugula and topped with a citrus grit cake and mirliton relish. The pork was flavorful with hints of barbeque and Asian spice, but the grit cake was underdone and a bit bland. The unusual choice of relish is a nod to Creole cooking, as the mirliton is a common ingredient in holiday dishes in Louisiana. Also known as a chayote, this gourd is native to Mexico and has a very mild flavor and potato-like texture. You generally don’t see a lot of it in NYC restaurants, so that was an interesting surprise.

We also tried the Corn Flake Crusted Chicken (stuffed with Andouille sausage and cheddar cheese, I would have ordered it, but it was only a Restaurant Week lunch option), uh, I mean, the Scallops & Honey Grits. The scallops were perfectly cooked: grilled to a golden brown and melt-in-your-mouth tender, finished with a “Lobster Barbeque Jus” and corn relish. This dish exemplifies the New Southern twist on traditional fare; the smokiness of barbeque added to a very classic sauce. The grits were heavenly. And really, I am so obsessed with grits right now that it was almost all I cared about! Which is why I was thrilled that the entrees were accompanied by Gravy’s Signature Grits 3 Ways. “Honey, Porky and Cheesy” was how the runner described it (who by the way is the best thing happening in that restaurant). Cheesy was definitely the favorite, reminiscent of a delightful risotto of distant memory, the blend of cheeses hard to pin-point but so creamy and delicious that it hardly mattered. The aforementioned honey grits were breakfast the way you always wanted it, but at dinner. Porky let me down, sadly. There was something a bit grainy and sour about it which was surprising given how perfect the other two varieties were. 

Scallops & Honey Grits

Desserts were merely good, not outstanding. We had Mississippi Mud and Pecan pies, the pecan being the better of the two. The Mississippi Mud was not ‘muddy’ enough. I expect richness in that style that was missing; it was more of a brownie than anything else. The Pecan Pie was served slightly warm, but the crust was not very flaky. Overall, the dessert menu was uninspiring and, while Southern in spirit, did not seem very original. In contrast, the cocktail list was full of delights. In addition to classics, like the Sazerac, Mint Julep and the Hurricane, there are Gravy’s signature creations, such as The Debutante, Garden of Good and Evil, and Marie Laveau, after the famed voodoo priestess. The Pimm's Cup brought me back to the Napoleon House in New Orleans, which is high praise indeed. Gravy’s bar is beautifully put-together and its bartenders were attentive and skilled.               

Service otherwise could use some refinement; the weak skills of the front waiters barely counter-balanced by the attention of the back servers (that great runner, a busman that was always on his game). To wit, I would love to tell you that the biscuits and honey butter that are served when you arrive are delicious, but I can’t, since our waiter failed to provide them and we got so busy with our meal that we didn’t press the issue. There was a general air of confusion among the service staff and there didn’t seem to be much managerial direction. I joked to my dinner companion that if I were still in restaurant management, I would poach the runner, busser and the bartender and let them keep the rest!

Gravy has promise and with a little tweaking may prove that the South can rise again, culinarily speaking. In the meantime, I’m calling on Sean Brock and his cohorts to consider bringing a little more Dixie to the Big Apple.