The Comfort Zone
Though the guy I was hanging with Sunday night was adorable, he once confessed that his faulty memory was due to the trailer fumes he inhaled as a young'un. His ideal meal is a slice of pizza or greasy burger washed down with dozens of Diet Cokes. So it hardly surprised me when he offered to drive me to the Cobble Hill section of Brooklyn and try Gravy. The decor was faux Adirondacks, a cutesy '50s diner with wood-paneled walls, kitschy knick-knacks and a working fireplace. It was all very trailer-like.
The entrance to Gravy is not immediately apparent, since it is one of a quartet of eateries owned by Kevin Erickson, Jason Clement and James Mamary. Trout, the outdoor bar/restaurant around the back just opened for the summer. It's style is rustic, Hemingway-esque, with manly accoutrements like fishing poles, boats hanging from ropes and a hand-carved trout hanging over the entrance. Pacifico is the moderately priced Mexican restaurant around the corner on Pacific Street. Then there's La Rosa, a modest pizza place next to Gravy. A large cheese pizza is $13.
Flipping open the plastic coated menu in Gravy, we noted a shortage of choices. All the easier to make a selection, although no meat loaf or mac and cheese was to be found. To expand their entrée selections, Gravy has daily "blue plate" specials: fried chicken ($12) on Monday; black-eyed catfish ($13) on Tuesday; open-faced turkey sandwich ($10) on Wednesday; roasted chicken breast ($12) on Thursday; fish and chips ($13) on Friday; chicken fried steak ($14) on Saturday and prime rib ($19) on Sunday.
The pulled pork sandwich ($9), slow-cooked barbecue, was tender and sauced just right, as good as any I've tried in Memphis. It went quite nicely with a thick chocolate milk shake ($4) topped with whipped cream. An unabashed meat-lover, I ravished the blue plate special of the evening, rare prime rib. It was tender and bloody, the edges a bit overcooked. A mushy baked potato stuffed with Velveeta-like cheese garnished with bacon shared the plate. Nice idea, but the tater was overcooked too.
The red velvet cake ($5), Gravy's signature dessert, is sweet, but unfortunately dry. Other desserts include key lime pie, carrot cake and ice cream. They serve amusing cocktails for $8, like the Big Mak: a heady concoction of Maker's Mark, Chambord and fresh blackberries on the rocks. The wine list is very limited, but it won't break the bank. I tried the Goats Do Roam, a South African red ($6 a glass) instead of an Australian Shiraz ($33 a bottle) or unfashionable Merlot ($20).
Gravy does rustle up a hearty down-home breakfast, with a good range of grub: red flannel hash, biscuits and gravy with sausage, Denver and "Texican" omelets, chicken fried steak with eggs and also stuff for the Yankees-house-made granola and French toast with fruit. Then there are the sinful pleasures: greasy spoon sides like sausage patties, bacon, kielbasa and cheese grits. The price is right at $7.50.
If Gravy really wanted to evoke retro-diner comfort food, they should offer a few more Southern menu items and desserts. That said, dining was pleasant-the food was good and the restaurant was clean, even groovy. The waiters were clueless but a sophisticated wait staff is not required for meat and potatoes.
When the bill came, my date plunked a $20 bill down. "Is that enough?" he grinned. Since I like my dudes skanky, I pulled out my credit card and paid the damage. We sped off into the night in his SUV.
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