Soul Food Refined, So Fresh & So Clean

Originally written for Flossin’ Media

Soul Food – sweet potato pie, collard greens and cornbread – began out of necessity. Slaves salvaged available food scraps, transforming the “bad apple,” brown-spotted and bite-marked, into applesauce fit for a baby. Even now, we (black folk and down white folk) would eat the worst part of the pig, the snout, if you threw some hot sauce on it, as comedian David Chappelle once joked.

Pig snout for dinner isn’t the most appealing of images, but it does belong to Soul Food’s history, from the slave ship to the plantation and into the slave master’s house. Soul Food has been nurtured in our mother’s kitchen, sold out of the home then out of a come-as-you-are, “get it and get” restaurant.

Soul Food has grown but not without its growing pains; the evolution hasn’t stopped. With all the expectations of elegant dining, Soul Food is now gourmet. It’s upscale and fancy in cities like Harlem, New York, at the legendary Sylvia’s Restaurant, established (since 1962) by the business woman who now sells her canned goods, sauces, soups and spices on grocery shelves across the country.

Soul Food is global, in London (Ashbells) and Australia (The Soul Food Café). And reflecting the needs of any twenty-first century herbivore, Soul Food has gone vegetarian, in Chicago at Soul Vegetarian East, one link in a chain of Soul Food Vegetarian restaurants from the Midwest to the East Coast and all the way to Ghana, West Africa.

You ever not go to a restaurant because you think it’s too pricey or visit a restaurant only reserved for your mom’s birthday? That’s the level that Soul Food is playing at now. You drive to the restaurant and don’t park your own car because, at Brownstone on Main in Cleveland, Ohio, valet parking is available. You’re escorted to a table by a maître d. If a table isn’t available – and if you’re at Magnolia Restaurant in Detroit – you’re asked to wait in the bar. Looking around, you notice how the clientele isn’t…well, that the restaurant isn’t full of just black folk. If you frequent Sylvia’s Restaurant, one of those Soul Food eating non-black people might be our 42nd president, Bill Clinton.

The menus boast flavors of active imaginations and Southern and Caribbean influences. Sides of collard greens and yams are served with Salmon Croquettes and Cajun Duck Breasts. Diddy’s upscale Justin’s Restaurant and Bar, located in Atlanta and New York, asks you to choose between the Louisiana Seafood Gumbo or the Crabmeat Stuffed Blackened Catfish.

The amenities also extend after the meal. At Magnolia, their second-floor doors open every Thursday night for spoken-word poetry, old school Rhythm-and-Blues on Fridays and Jazz on Saturdays. “I wanted to do something really nice,” explained Magnolia owner, Steve Radden, “where people go and get dressed up, [which] kinda hurts me in a way because it’s like a destination spot. It’s not a spot where people come and eat every day because it’s a little pricey.”

With all the niceties (the cotton napkins, the valet parking, the club upstairs, etc.), you have to expect to pay more. Main dishes, including sides, cost about one-third to three-times as much more than at a non-upscale Soul Food restaurant, which is an obvious source of complaint. When customers review Soul Food restaurants online, specifically for city guides, a reoccurring complaint is the high price. Another reoccurring complaint is the service.

Just before lunch at Magnolia, a young woman left with the quickness after asking to peruse the menu and its prices. “I could eat the same food at home,” the woman stated as she walked back to her car. She was in the minority. During my two-day visit, Magnolia received a steady flow of patrons. As always, like at every Soul Food restaurant on a Sunday, the “after church” contingent was present.

A higher price for Soul Food isn’t the only problem confronted by a restaurateur. How do you make gourmet Soul Food, with its presumed sophistication, as relatable as your mom’s Soul Food? At Magnolia, while waiting to be seated, a sharp-dressed couple studied a menu with the veracity of a student cramming for an exam. They couldn’t decide what to order; it was an internal tussle between eating what you’ve known all your life and trying something new you might hate. A maître d was asked to break the tie.

At Magnolia, for one couple, the difference between what you’ve known and something new is all in the packaging. Cheryl and Lawrence Smith are Detroit natives, parents of two and have been married for twenty-four years. The Smiths bring a veteran palette. “Soul Food was introduced to both of us through our own upbringing. We both came from families that ate soul food as a way of life and still do,” described Cheryl.

"The only difference between eating at Magnolia’s and our mother’s home cooked food was the presentation,” explained Cheryl. She enjoyed the fried catfish. "It had a light batter and there was no sign of grease. The fish was well-seasoned.” Of course, the meal came with sides. “Mixed cabbage and greens together,” continued Cheryl, “the taste was so good, seasoned extremely well.”

I approached the couple after their meal for an on-the-spot photo, which must have given Cheryl the “willies.” She gave me a boy-you-must-be-crazy-my-hair-is-a-mess kind of look. I asked Lawrence, a man who clearly takes his Soul Food seriously, about the idea of eating Soul Food in a fancy restaurant. “I think it’s time,” he replied without hesitation. I then told Lawrence about Soul Food restaurants in Europe. He gave me the same look of surprise his wife did but his shock quickly turned into acceptance.

“We can only say there should be more Soul Food restaurants in this category,” concluded Cheryl. “The service was professional; the restaurant is clean and to us considered a five-star restaurant. The prices are reasonable and what more can we say other than and more importantly the food is to die for.”

From the worst beginnings of any story ever devised by a writer, Soul Food has been refined, so fresh and so clean, but it’s not entirely unrecognizable. It’s still Soul Food, but you’ve never had it this good.