Yardbird Southern Table & Bar

Once upon a time, before tha age of COVID, Swine Southern Table & Bar, Yardbird's sister restaurant, was arguably the brightest star in the pork specialty firmament. It stands to reason that the chicken version of this southern table and bar would be just as resplendent. Sadly, Swine is no longer with us, but Yardbird doesn't disappoint. Reservations are a must because waiting is considerable if you don't have one. Not one table is empty for more than five minutes. As soon as one party leaves a table, another swoops in to take it.
     It's an attractive place full of attractive people. Both staff and patrons have that cosmopolitan look about them, and they contrast well against the rustic yet polished farm decor. Our server, Lisa, was the perfect combination of polite, efficient and knowledgeable. A quick survey of the tables puts me in that Miami Beach mood- very European, lively and sophisticated, a tourist's heaven.

     I ordered a Southern Peach from their cocktail menu, and John picked the Sam (Adams) Seasonal, a pale ale he characterized as "brunch appropriate". That's the most eloquence I've ever gotten out of Hubby on any beer. Compared to his usual "It's good. I like it" grunt, this was almost lyrical.
     My libation came in that most delightful of vessels, the mason jar, and contained Wild Turkey, fresh lemon and thyme, white peach puree, and sweet tea. I'm not a member of the Church of Tea, a fact that shocks most people I know, but when the substance is presented like this, I could easily convert.
     If you only order one thing at this restaurant, it has to be their biscuits. You can stop looking for heaven. It's right here in these fresh buttermilk biscuits and their friends, maple butter and homemade spiced apple jam. Not only are these biscuits without equal, but the seasonal jams at these two establishments are pure spreadable love.

     In the interest of widening our experience, John ordered the most popular item on the menu, the Chicken N' Watermelon N' Waffles, and I chose the shrimp and grits. The names of these dishes belie what they represent. John's pick was a platter of delicately fried chicken, blocks of chilled watermelon, and a stout, Vermont sharp cheddar waffle in the company of some bourbon maple syrup. I've now been spoiled for any other waffle.

     

     My pearly grits were creamy, savory and lumpy in all the right places. The colossal shrimp were cooked to a perfect crunch, and everything waded in a Pabst Blue Ribbon jus that promoted this popular southern dish to a high-ranking culinary delicacy.

     At this point, the belly was full, and I was on a high that only an exceptional meal can produce for me. I was just as fired up about dessert as I was at the beginning of the meal. We ordered the Hickory Smoked Chocolate Coffee Cake served with house-made coffee ice cream. The cake was a compact pound cake with large chocolate chunks and drizzled with chocolate sauce. The ice cream is a smart addition for a couple of reasons. The cake is very dense and screams for something soft or liquid as company. The coffee ice cream has a solid, definitive flavor redolent of good gelato. What's not to like?

     Southern food in a most sophisticated interpretation, all elements used to their highest potential- that is the gift offered to patrons by this restaurant. Down home cooking with class.

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