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Though good, the food at Red Rooster was never its primary draw. Chef Marcus Samuelsson’s Harlem restaurant made its bones as a hearth around which New York City could gather, the proverbial melting pot in microcosm. All of that remains true. What’s changed? The world.
Now in its 16th year, Red Rooster finds itself in an almost unimaginable reality; the arc of justice seems longer, more asymptotic. Red Rooster is not, and ought not to be seen, as a token for any ethnic cuisine or racial identity, or a locus of socio-political issues. It is a restaurant: a place to go and forget about the world outside for a little while. Still, it can’t be entirely extricated from its context. Since RR opened, many more excellent, upmarket Black-owned and operated restaurants and bars have sprung up, and they have Red Rooster to point to not just as a trailblazer but proof-positive that the wide spectrum of American Black food is far from niche. Rather, it is the U.S.’s most significant and enduring contribution to global gastronomy (music too, but I digress) and will absolutely draw a diverse crowd. Mr. Samuelsson launched his flagship in Manhattan’s historically Black enclave, Harlem—not the most convenient place to get to if you’re not already nearby—a neighborhood that was (and still is, but to a lesser extent) ignored by restaurateurs and Anglo culture vultures. It says everything that, after 16 years of receiving mostly pretty-good-but-not-great reviews for its cuisine, the place still packs its dining room for dinner nearly every weekend.
Speaking of its dining room, Red Rooster buzzes with energy: loud music (live nightly), the sound of people enjoying themselves. The service is excellent—friendly, attentive, happy to answer questions and make suggestions—as long as they’re not overwhelmed, which is liable to happen anywhere, but especially during RR’s weekend brunch rush. If you want the utmost from your experience, maybe go at a different time.
In my memory, The Yardbird (fried chicken) loomed over the menu. It’s relegated to an upper corner now, but it still almost haunts the place. You won’t regret ordering it—crunchy and salty with moist meat, playing in perfect harmony with RR’s sweet-vinegary collard greens—but it isn’t the best in the city. If you’re at a restaurant packing star power, fried protein isn’t exactly a chef’s showpiece. For that, see RR’s Shrimp & Grits with a tomato/okra strew: toothsome, well-seasoned shrimp; creamy grits with a lactic bass-note; everything nudged into balance with that acidic tomato stew, plus breadcrumbs for texture. The desserts (a banana pudding and a small apple pie) are good but not spectacular. Having said that, I’d get them both again in a heartbeat.
The cocktails here are very good. The Brownstoner (bourbon, elderflower, cherry liqueur) is assertive and complex, using the base liquor’s sugar as a springboard for tartness and fragrance. The Yes Chef (vodka, mint, ginger beer, honey, lemon, pineapple, spice) is crushable, each element embracing the others.
It has never felt more important, at least in this elder millennial’s lifetime, to celebrate Black culture and cuisine, to joyfully support Black excellence. At Red Rooster, you will do just that. If you want to avoid a wait, make a reservation. To be perfectly clear, this place is not an educational experience, and there’s no hint of pedantry. Guests can expect warm environs, sturdy cocktails, and tasty food. It doesn’t push boundaries but satisfies handily. You’ll have fun here. In today’s world, that matters.