Jimmy's Diner

To say that Jimmy’s Diner is ersatz would be a compliment. The lonesome interior of Billyburg’s newest greasy spoon—shabby barstools, tattered screen door, graffiti-covered bathroom—might have been there long before the battered trappings could have been considered ironic. To some extent, the middling reputation established by owner Josh Cohen at Park Slope’s Biscuit BBQ continues here—fried chicken, touted on the menu as “Brooklyn’s best,” wasn’t. Its oily skin lacked the necessary craggy texture and addictive crunch. The dessert menu exhibits similar false claims, such as a “money-back brownie”—a generic square that made us want to reclaim the $2 we’d spent on it. There is the occasional stroke of genius: The seasonal veggies from upstate’s Honey Locust Farms that accompany a barbecued chicken platter (Jimmy’s tries to source all of their produce locally), and the brilliant Williamsburger, which tops a juicy patty with a crisp latke and tart applesauce. Fried deviled eggs are similarly inspired: The creamy, spicy yolk filling, encased in a jacket of rich batter, stands in stark contrast with the usually tired church-picnic nibble. The spot doesn’t have a liquor license yet, which is fitting: Like any proper diner, Jimmy’s isn’t a destination, but it is a fine place to dry out after a night of drinking.