BY CARLA WALDEMAR
Revival
4257 Nicollet Ave. S.
Corner Table
4537 Nicollet Ave. S.
Nighthawks
3757 Nicollet Ave. S.
4 Bells
1610 Harmon Place
Eastside
301 Washington Ave.
We’re newly stuffed with turkey—our iconic Thanksgiving center-of-the-table. But for the rest of the year, it’s chicken—specifically, fried chicken—that’s a cherished Minnesota meal, whether it’s at Grandma’s table or, these days, the domain of a bold-name chef. Sure, those masters of the commercial kitchen could be playing around with foams and gels and other foibles among last year’s trends, but many of the best of them have decided to return to our Sunday dinner roots.
And we diners are cheering. Maybe we’re tired, too, of the deconstructed, gastro-finessed dishes that require a glossary (and credit card with astro-limits) to partake. We’re eagerly tucking in our napkins and going for the Gold-N-Plump. (Sorry: These chefs are actually choosing non-mass-market, steroid-free, cage-free birds—ones with actual flavor.)
The South has risen again. Revival is the new home of some of the very best Southern home cooking north of the Mason-Dixon, right here in South Minneapolis (4257 Nicollet Ave. S.) It’s the new venture of South Carolina-born hero of the kitchen Thomas Boemer, who also helms Corner Table, just down the road.
This round, in Corner Table’s former, and still-cramped and tiny site, he’s celebrating the fare his grandma taught him. Leaning over the diner counter stools we finally nabbed (the long wait for a table itself makes it wise to pack a lunch), the chef recalled his born-again moment, when fried chicken evolved for him from more than a bucket from KFC. “Well, don’t just sit there,” Grandma directed her kitchen crew of one: “Help me.” Result: one of the city’s most exciting dining ops of 2015.
Mountains of the aromatic bird are the kitchen’s best-sellers (two pieces $7.50; half bird $15; whole $27)—chicken as the Good Lord meant it to be eaten: buttermilk-brined, then emerging virtually grease-free from the hot-hot fryer, with a crisp, ethereal negligee of batter yielding to juicy, firm-tender, full-flavored meat. Anoint it, if you wish, with choice of house sauces—one smooth and hot, the other broadcasting a vinegary tang.
Nighthawks, not far afield in miles nor cooking mantra at 3757 Nicollet, marks another shift toward home cookin’ by a chef noted for more avant fare. From Haute Dish, his popular site in the Warehouse District, to haute diner, this boundary-breaking chef does his bit to improve the city by putting a personal spin on classic Midwestern mealtime icons, starting with the henhouse. Grab a table or, better yet, a bar stool close to the action, then prepare to lick your lips (and fingers) over the kitchen’s classic chicken, fried sublimely, County Fair style: moist and tasty within its coat of batter (two pieces $7). We chose the bacon-maple syrup-Eggo version, built upon a waffle. (How Southern a combo is that?) Or, on Mondays, go for the blue plate special chicken dinner, clearly intended to feed an entire church supper throng.
Then head to Loring Park’s new 4 Bells (1610 Harmon Place), where the carillon of the nearby Basilica is ringing (in my opinion) for the kitchen sacrament created from a lowly bird. Sitting at the counter next to a pair of ladies whose heap-o-chicken we admired, we couldn’t help inquiring. “This is only the half order!” they gawped over the pyramid of fowl. It’s super-moist and rich with flavor under its dressing gown of perfectly fried batter. One of the very best in town, we decided, upon ordering our own platter ($17 half; $29 whole). It comes with a unique quartet of sauces: honey butter; a creamy pan-juice gravy, rich with flour; a fruity Delta sauce; and a smackin’ hotter number.
Eastside, a brand-new café near the Guthrie at 301 Washington Ave. S., serves a cosmo crowd of theater-goers and condo dwellers. But what are these rarified palates craving? Fried chicken on a pretzel bun. An afterthought, we expected—a sop to the timid. But no: Our portion surpassed the offering we’d anticipated—supremely juicy meat in a crispy coating, glorified with a robust, sweet-smoky barbecue sauce, sweet pickles and red onions and a heap of skinny, skin-on fries.
So, what’ll it be, come New Year’s Eve? Champagne and caviar—or a brewsie and a drumstick? I know what I’ll be ordering …
