A little bit of soul

After spending a good portion of my Saturday afternoon watching the Food Network, learning about the origins of fried chicken and witnessing Battle Catfish, I had a bit of a hankering for some good soul food. We read in the paper earlier in the week about a place called the Purple Plum in Oakland, which was described as having the healthiest soul food on this side of the Bay. Our growling stomachs told us that it was time to make a little journey.

After getting a little bit lost and circling back the way we came, we found the Purple Plum. Eleanor and I had actually driven by it before on a hunt for biscuits one morning, and I remember commenting on how cute it looked and that we must visit there when it was open for customers. I guess it was our time, er, my time, since Eleanor's in New York for the week.

Susie, Quressa, Q's cousin Thelma, and I were greeted by a very nice bartender, who was the only one who greeted us or who was nice to us. No host or hostess was around. And, when we caught the attention of various wait staff, we were told that someone would be right with us. Sure. We waited and I was impatient, just about ready to storm out and head to the Everett and Jones. (Gosh, can you picture me storming out? It would be quite the quiet storm.)

We decided to wait it out and that drinks would help pass the time. I ordered the Peach Plum Passion Love Who-knows-what-else Martini, which was a mix of plum wine, plum sake, sake, and peach puree. It was sweet and fruity, very refreshing. Susie ordered something with raspberry in it, which was also made of sake and very good as well. (I was getting more ideas for summer cocktails.) I couldn't figure out why the people at the Purple Plum decided to feature sake as their alcohol of choice. My afternoon TV lesson on soul food mentioned nothing about sake.

We still waited. Finally, a waitress noticed us and told us that the table we're waiting on is just about done but they're having some sort of celebration and they didn't want to rush them so would we like some bread if we were absolutely famished? Sure, since we were absolutely famished. Not a bad call on our part. The bread came in a basket wrapped with a napkin and very warm. There was cornbread, rolls, and a dish of butter. The cornbread was delicious, flaky and dense with a great texture but not too greasy. The rolls were equally impressive, so light and airy and tasting of fresh eggs. And, my god, the butter. The butter. I'm not even a big fan of butter. I'll try avoiding it when I can, but I couldn't resist this one. It tasted like it was churned in the back by some poor child boy just churning his heart out to make us good butter. It was creamy and cool, spreading easily across the bread and roll and melting just as easily. I spread on some butter and then spread on some more. I ate that whole dish up and had no regrets. It was, really, butter from the gods, and this is coming from an atheist.

So, the meal. If the bread and butter could be that good, what would my actual meal taste like? I was about to die--I was so hungry and anxious. I ordered the apple cider glazed pork chop with ginger candied sweet potatoes and sautéed greens. And, yes, it was one of the best meals I've had in a while. The pork chop was juicy, lean, and tender, covered with grill marks set at the perfect angle to one another. The sweet potatoes were just as marvelous, a nice consistency, thick, and honey sweet with just a hint of ginger in the background. And, the sautéed greens were delicious as well, with flavors reminiscent of something my mom makes but I knew my mom would never add bacon to her greens as they did there. I was so full on bread, but I couldn't not clean my plate of all that deliciousness.

When the waitress asked if we wanted dessert, we all shook our heads in silent unison. There was no way more food could have been stuffed into us. We waddled out of there happy.