Review: Southern in St. Louis

It’s 11:30 p.m. on a Saturday, and I’m craving hot chicken. I visited Southern – the new casual restaurant next to Pappy’s Smokehouse in Midtown – several times and fell for the addictive spicy-sweet deliciousness that defines hot chicken, but this night I have it bad. So bad that I consider, for a second, cooking up my own version before accepting that I can’t replicate exactly what I crave.

There is fried chicken, and then there is hot chicken – also fried, born in Depression-era Nashville, Tennessee. The story goes that a girlfriend of Thornton Prince was so fed up with his late-night carousing that when he came home one morning, she made him his favorite fried chicken, only spiced up with enough punishing heat to render it inedible. But he loved it, proving the old adage about how best to serve a dish of revenge. Prince’s Hot Chicken Shack soon followed, and the north Nashville joint is still going strong.

Then there’s Southern, Rick Lewis’ new venture featuring Nashville-inspired fried chicken. Lewis made a name for himself in 2012 when he transformed South City’s Quincy Street Bistro from a lackluster bar and grill into one worthy of landing him a 2014 James Beard Award semifinalist spot as a Rising Star. Earlier this year, Lewis left Quincy Street to partner with Pappy’s owner Mike Emerson on Southern.

Lewis gets close to true Nashville hot chicken without ripping off the city’s iconic fare. Rather than soaking chicken in a spicy buttermilk brine and dipping it in a mixture of milk and eggs laced with hot sauce, as is typically done in Nashville, he marinates his hot chicken in a spicy, acidic mixture (beer, vinegar and lemon juice) then dry-rubs the pieces with more spices. It’s all then dredged in seasoned flour and deep-fried.

At this point it is very good fried chicken. And indeed, Southern calls this version “original,” with its lightly crisp, tender skin and above-average seasoning. But hot chicken requires a final, defining step. In Nashville, that means slathering the fried bird with a paste made from fry oil, melted lard or butter to which heat and spice are added, often at incendiary levels. At Southern, it means a dunk in a corn oil-based sauce made mild, medium, hot or “cluckin’ hot,” depending on the amount of chiles and cayenne pepper added, resulting in chicken glistening with a burnished red-orange crust.

Lewis takes it one step beyond delicious, sprinkling each piece with his own spice blend that relies heavily on celery seed, paprika and a smattering of sugar. The result is that regardless of heat index, the bird’s flavor is never lost.

Building those complex layers of flavor is the secret to great hot chicken. Even the scorching “hot” and four-alarm “cluckin’ hot” versions weren’t all about heat. The first bite of the latter hit with a bit of sweetness, lulling me into false confidence for the second bite. That’s when the capsaicin-induced sniffles kicked in, and my brow beaded with perspiration. Fiery pungency hit all my pain and pleasure centers simultaneously before subsiding into a smoldering, pleasant afterglow on my lips and tongue. And then I couldn’t stop.

Southern also offers a General Tso’s version that I wish every Chinese restaurant could emulate: sticky, sweet and spicy, dark with hints of rice wine and juiced up with whole dried Thai chiles.

Chicken plates come with a slice of Companion white bread to sop up any residual spicy oil, a couple of crisp house-brined pickle slices and two sides. The seven available sides are no afterthought either, including creamy mac-n-cheese with smoked Gouda and cheddar; greens simmered in salt pork just past al dente; and cold, crisp, tangy vinegar slaw as welcome as an ice cube in hell. Cooling off with a bottle of Excel soda or Kaldi’s sweet tea isn’t a bad idea, either.

Yes, Southern has more than chicken (God, that chicken!). And you should try the sandwiches when hot chicken is out of the question, like when you’ve had it five days in a row. Southern’s Cubano is quite good, stuffed with ham, crispy-edged Pappy’s pulled pork and Gruyere for a nuttier, richer taste than plain ol’ Swiss. Add fried pickled green tomatoes to a BLT, slather it with spicy mayo and The Dirty South tastily rises again. Thanksgiving is next month, but Southern can’t wait with The Gobbler: honey-brined smoked turkey, greens, onion, seasonal jam (peach when I was there) and even a touch of dressing. Don’t miss the deviled eggs, if for no other reason than the adorable teeny, star-shaped slices of pickled okra on top – that and the superb creamy yolk-and-pimento cheese filling.

Dessert came in the form of house-made banana pudding and cobbler, salted caramel fudge chunk brownies from Pint Size Bakery and ice cream sandwiches from Sugaree Bakery – all of which looked great, none of which I ate (God! That chicken!).

Lewis has tastefully outfitted the interior of the former Brinco’s Mexican Grill & Cantina to reflect both himself and a rustic Southern motif without going overboard on kitsch. While there are only 55 seats, tables turn briskly. Service is fast-casual: Order at the counter, find a seat and wait for the server to yell your name before delivering your order on an aluminum tray.

Lewis uses the same approach at Southern that still packs them in at Quincy Street Bistro, even after his departure: simple comfort food made from scratch served up in a casual, convivial space. One afternoon, as Lewis was greeting customers, he spotted a woman he knows and asked, “Back for more, huh?”

“I lasted three weeks,” she responded. Yeah lady, I know the feeling.

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AT A GLANCE

Where
3108 Olive St., St. Louis, 314.531.4668, stlsouthern.com

Don’t Miss Dishes
Hot chicken to match your heat tolerance, deviled eggs

Vibe
Fast-casual without the rush, featuring a soundtrack ranging from Motown to Neil Young to Grouplove.

Entree Prices
$9.50 to $13.50

When
Wed. to Sun. – 11 a.m. to 4 p.m.