F the GF at Red Rooster Harlem

I try to be gluten, dairy, sugar and most alcohols free. If I’m not, my body beats the crap out of me. But sometimes the beating is worth it.

So when the waitress at Marcus Samuelsson’s Red Rooster Harlem asked us if there were any food restrictions, I sweetly looked up into her face and said, “Nope. Not here.”

Red Rooster Harlem, NYC, NY

Cocktails: I had the Obamatini because @santana_dna says vodka is good for me. (Totally what you said, right?) Black pepper infused vodka with pineapple, lime and grapefruit. The reason I lean towards fangirl for Chef Samuelsson is his ability to bring together flavors that wake you up. As my husband said, “This one’s going to open up your throat chakra.” B had the Harlem Mule made with scotch and their home brewed ginger beer. Kinda love the scotch substitute.

Deviled eggs with po’ boy hummus, Red Rooster Harlem

Food: So many delights and since I’m not a food critic no sense in me getting into them all. What dishes rolled my eyes into the back of my head? The chicken and waffles (oh I went there alright) and the grits. I wanted to submerge myself in a bathtub of those grits. Born and bred in the Northeast, my sense of grits is when polenta and cream of wheat have a cranky baby. Clearly I do NOT know grits. But this mana from Heaven tasted like corn that had been massaged lovingly with heavy cream since a wee seed. So good I felt like we should give the food a more regal name. Maybe ‘grana’.

I’ve never understood chicken and waffles until last night. Previously I thought it was a Southern leftover concoction. Oh how wrong I was. Crispy coated with a hot maple-chili sauce, nestled lovingly on a fluffy blueberry waffle with strips of pickled onion delighting the top. Every forkful was accompanied by the voice in my head saying, “oh this is going to so hurt” and yet I kept eating. The hot, sweet, buttery crunch was perfect with the tart crispness of a South African chenin blanc. Ow ow ow... worth it.

Finally I pulled the pin and ate the banana pudding doughnut. Hoosband had to talk me off the “this would pair amazingly with a bourbon” ledge. Super grateful he did. But bite for bite it was a decadent way to cripple one’s self. #redroosterharlem