Charles’ Southern Style Kitchen
On the outside, I am a pasty white woman.
On the inside, I am the unholy spawn of portly, dead “Gimme a Break” star Nell Carter and Food Network host Paula Deen, a southern cooking maven whose “Butter is Better” cuisine and “Ah luhv y’all” demeanor makes me secretly yearn for a third grandma.
(Not that the other two couldn’t/can’t cook … but they couldn’t/can’t.)
(Sorry, passed-on Grandma! Sorry, alive Grandma!)
(Back to the point.)
In other words, I like to eat. I’m good at it. I practice a lot.
My favorite fare, even moreso than Thai (spicy!), Japanese (subtle!) or Ethiopian (goat is delicious!) is Soul Food (caps necessary!).
Soul Food makes me crave lard. It makes my mouth brim with drool. It makes my digestive system wish it could live on its own, free of my brain’s calorie-counting tyranny, so it could gorge on Soul Food whenever it damn well pleased.
In fact, if my stomach was a lady, I imagine she would laugh heartily, sing loudly in church choir and call everyone “Honeychild.” Her favorite place would be a rocking chair on the front porch of a stately Alabama colonial, with a hand-held floral paper fan providing all the breezy shade her estate’s weeping willows couldn’t quite muster. She would hold a doctorate in anthropology, but still wear a straw hat and ask all the neighbors to call her “Miss Tummy.”
But most of all, my stomachlady would cook Soul Food – often, and like a motherfucker.
She’d specialize in perfectly-seasoned fried chicken and creamy macaroni and cheese casserole. She’d sauté collard greens just right and cook barbecued ribs of such quality that Satan himself would choke out, “Good job, Miss Tummy. No hell for you today,” through mouthfuls of succulent meat. She’d bake cornbread to gritty, chewy magnificence, and whip up steaming vats of oxtail stew that if they were people, you’d elope with them, even if it meant no bachelor party.
Alas, Miss Tummy doesn’t exist. But there is an alternative.
Located smack dab in Harlem at 151st St. and Frederick Douglass Blvd, Charles’ Southern Style Kitchen has single-handedly derailed at least two of my most semi-successful diets. Approximately the size of a regulation baby crib, it holds eight or so tables, complete with checkered tablecloths and neato plastic cup utensil holders. The Soul Food buffet is unlimited, as are the all-you-can-drink lemonade and divine satisfaction reaped from scarfing 14 pounds of yams.
Best part? Lunch is $10. Dinner’s $12.
If you or your stomachlady cook like either of my grandmas and have an unquenchable craving for mounds of meat, starch and the sporadic vegetable, head to Charles’.
You can tell them Miss Tummy sent you.
Charles’ Southern Style Kitchen
2841 Frederick Douglass Blvd
New York, NY 10039
(212) 926-4313
Cross Street: 151st Street
Directions: D at 155th St
posted by Kris at
10:31 AM
1 comment(s):
Miss Tummy says, "Thank you, Honeychild!"
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Kris, at
6:42 PM
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