Shrimp and grits at Ferguson’s Country. Photo: Dave Fitz
It was 11 a.m. on a damp and blustery Saturday, a nor’easter was bearing down on New York, and a line had already formed outside Kirbee’s, a new Texas-barbecue spot in Williamsburg. Despite the unfortunate weather, many people weren’t carrying umbrellas; some weren’t even wearing rain jackets. Everyone had left their apartments in a daze with one thing in mind: plates of authentic smoked meat and, more important, the sides that go with it. Poblano-laced green spaghetti, pinto beans stewed with bacon and hot dogs, cole slaw, and — of course — cheesy grits.
Anyone who lived in New York circa 2007 will remember there was a time when it seemed like every restaurant in town offered warm bowls of smothered grits, or platters of country ham, or a moonshine cocktail served in something like a Mason jar. The restaurants of the time had names like Seersucker and Char No. 4. I was 5 at the time, so the only mac and cheese I was eating was likely to be Annie’s from a box, but while these sorts of down-home destinations have almost all closed, some new spots that follow in their comforting, reassuring bootprints are starting to pop back up.
“We wanted to bring not only the feeling of community but nostalgia as well, the feeling of being in an amusement park as a kid,” says David Yun, who just opened Good Time Country Buffet, with partners Yong Min Kim and Steve Choi, in the East Village. (Perhaps you’ve seen the lines to get in stretching down the sidewalk before opening.) During service one recent evening, Yun says he walked by a family sitting in one of their many booths and overheard them say, “Now this brings me back to when I was younger.”
Nostalgia also plays a big part in the new menu that chef Noah Ponjuan designed for the Musket Room. He grew up in Baton Rouge, eating shrimp and grits, boudin, and fried okra. When he serves his black-truffle cornbread, caviar-topped hush puppies, or pork belly with red-eye gravy and, yes, grits, what he really wants New Yorkers to feel while they’re eating it is that they’re being cared for: “The point of food is to nourish, not impress,” Ponjuan says. “Food is meant to show love and affection in some way.”
The food of the American South is, first and foremost, delicious, but it is also built around community, feeding as many people as possible. Gabi Mann felt this was lacking in Williamsburg, where she and her partner just opened Ferguson’s Country (Fergs for short) to help fill that gap. Since the doors opened in September, it’s been a steady flow of people from the neighborhood, just looking to check out a new spot with wooden planks covering the walls, Dolly Parton on the jukebox, and favorites like shrimp and grits and biscuits with chicken on the menu. No absurdly long lines, and no stress over getting a reservation on Resy.
Back at Kirbee’s the other weekend, there was a similar sense of camaraderie wafting alongside the wood smoke in the air. Johnny White, a pitmaster and one of the owners, walked back to the gingham-topped tables to check in and to ask if everyone was doing okay. Again and again, the answer was a resounding “yes.” There was a storm building outside, but everyone in there was warm and happy.
