With so much buzz surrounding Marcus Samuelsson’s opening of Red Rooster, I couldn’t wait to get myself a seat. As the food world knows, Marcus Samuelsson is the Ethiopian born, Swedish chef who, at the tender age of 24, was named executive chef at the upscale Aquavit, and received three stars from the New York Times -- a history-making accomplishment. A Harlem resident, Samuelsson wanted to open a place closer to his New York City stomping ground. Red Rooster, it seems, is that joint.
Just off the corner of 125th and Lenox Avenue, the bright (red) awning of Red Rooster announces arrival. For my first foray into Rooster territory, I opted to catch up with a dear friend over brunch, a meal that got my salivary glands going after glimpsing the menu online. Entering Red Rooster, the space is inviting. A large front bar is peopled with patrons, either waiting for a table or chowing at the bar. Beyond, a floor-to-ceiling bookcase stocked with bottles, glasses, assorted knick-knacks (clocks, vases, globes), literature by prominent African American writers like Maya Angelou, and of course, roosters of various sizes and shapes separates the bar area from the actual dining room. The restaurant's artwork is a showcasing of local talent spanning different mediums from painting to photography to sculpture. The open kitchen in the back of space, lit up in promise, adds to the feeling of warmth. Adding personality to the room is Red Rooster’s “house band” -- two singers, one male, one female, shoulders twitching in musical unison -- signing gospel classics like “This Little Light of Mine,” into somewhat muted microphones.
Though the room and the menu were tempting, the execution of Red Rooster’s promise needs a fair amount of work. While all new restaurants can be briefly forgiven service issues, it took almost fifteen minutes for tap water to fill our glasses. Drink orders (hot tea) remained unfilled for about another fifteen minutes, and it wasn’t until well after our entrees arrived that an orange juice met my lips in thirst. In this wait period, the gentleman next to me (and his leather jacket) was the victim of a mishandled burger dish that ultimately wound up on the floor, while the couple on my other side seemed destined to go hungry indefinitely. All ominous signs.
When our brunch order was finally taken, it was with warning from our server. He strongly advised against the shrimp and grits ($15), but waxed poetic about the nuggets and toast ($15) and the wood oven baked egg ($14), which everyone in the place seemed to be enjoying. Order in, we waited, and while the service was horrendous, the perfectly moist corn bread ($4) with an orgasmic honey butter and tomato jam did the trick, sending our taste buds soaring to happy places. Maybe things were looking up…
The main plates came with the aforementioned O.J. and I was giddy at my selection. The nuggets and toast were a play on chicken and waffles. In this instance, French toast subbed in for waffles and sat drenched in a sweet maple syrup. But while the French toast was gooey and delicious, the nuggets suffered at the hands of the kitchen, arriving dry and more than a little overcooked. My partner’s oven baked egg was equally confounding since our server described the dish as, essentially, a poached egg. But the beauty of a poached egg is in first crack of the runny yolk, no? At Red Rooster, there was no drippy yolk, and the eggs were well past the poached phase. Accompanying the egg was a choice of mac and greens, chorizo and onion, or tomato and mozzarella salad. We chose the mac and greens, which proved to taste quite good only the portion was cold through the center. Rather than send it back (imagine the wait time...), we opted to focus on the other side dish we ordered, a sweet potato hash ($6). Except that plate never showed. Our waiter remembered this as he delivered our bill "Aw, you wanted the hash, right?" Right. Then, he disappeared. Problem was when he returned it wasn't with a piping hot comped hash. Or even an apology for the lapse.
Desserts weren’t presented to us, merely glossed over with a “you don’t all want dessert, do you?”, and it’s a shame because the doughnuts and the warm apple pie sound delicious in hindsight. However, by that time we, too, were overcooked.
While I assumed that my visit to Lenox Avenue would inspire a rave review about how Red Rooster is churning out comfort classics beyond compare and Samuelsson has another first-rate establishment on his hands, that’s not the case. Sometimes the best laid plans don’t work out as we want them to, and for Red Rooster, a focus on the details of its service and its kitchen is needed in order to truly excel.
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