Fullsteam Brewery

I clearly do not get out much anymore, for what caught my attention as I slowly drove in the dark along Geer Street behind the outfield wall of the old Durham Bulls ballpark and headed uncertainly toward Rigsbee Avenue was a colorful neon sign that read--what did it read? Fullsteam? That was where I was headed, after all, and I knew that Fullsteam, which I had never been to, was in the vicinity. I stopped the car and took a harder look at the sign. "Motorco," it read, looking rather snazzy, its multichromatic luminescence brought into exorbitant relief against the general darkness of the evening, and in that moment it symbolized for me all that has been developing in Durham over the past few years--putting a place of entertainment where a place of business had been. The patrons in Motorco--I could see them through the large windows of the illuminated bar--looked young, and I thought in that moment that cities are for the young. They are for the young because the young have not had time to see them change. Motorco will always be there! Or so I imagine is the thinking, subconscious as it may be.

To say that Fullsteam is a place of entertainment occupying what was once a place of business is not entirely accurate. After all, the brewery is a place of business, and not that different of a business than the business that used to occupy the building. As I usefully discovered on Endangered Durham, Fullsteam occupies the back half of a building that used to house an RC and then a 7-Up bottling company. So beverages are in its blood.

I was surprised--pleasantly--by Fullsteam. Rather than a cramped, it is a cavernous space with enormously high ceilings and a polished concrete floor. The space is divided into two areas--four really, when you include the very front section of the bar, which has a ping pong table and four or five pinball machines, as well as a floor-to-ceiling panel consisting of controls that were once used to operate an electric bus system, and the room in which the brew kettles do their thing (it bears repeating that this is a bar and brewery). The main room contains eight or so wooden picnic tables, spaced generously apart, and a stage in one corner (on the night I was there, Chapel Hill guitarist Justin Johnson was performing). On the other side of the main room, and separated from it by a wall and glass doors, is the bar proper. The bar has seating for around eight people.

There were a dozen or so beers on tap, including several beers brewed, of course, on the premises. Fullsteam also serves food. On Thursday night there were barbecue sandwiches and tamales. Both were delicious. Indeed, the barbecue sandwich was one of the best I've had and reminded me very much of the barbecue I grew up eating in Memphis.

Fullsteam has an excellent website that explains the brewery's unusual--and exciting--mission. I can't wait to go again.

Fishmonger's

With all the wonderful new restaurants that have appeared in Durham over the past few years, it is sometimes easy to overlook the ones that were already in business long before the Piedmonts and Federals and Rue Clers opened their doors. Such is the case with Fishmonger's, which has been serving Bull City diners since the early years of the Reagan presidency. It took a visitor from out of town (indeed, out of the country) to notice the oyster special they had on Friday night and to suggest going there for dinner. I am happy to report that the raw oysters, briny and fresh-tasting, were spectacular. According to our waitress, the oil spill last April had disrupted the oyster trade so much that these were some of the first oysters Fishmonger's had gotten this season. I preferred the raw oysters by leaps and bounds over the fried, whose breading was too heavy for the delicate flavor of the oysters. On that note, why anyone breads oysters in anything other than Zatarain's Fish-Fri I'll never know.

We also had the Frogmore stew, which, as many readers will know, is not a stew at all but a combination of shrimp, potatoes, sausage, and corn-on-the-cob boiled in seasoned water. At Fishmonger's, the seasoning is Old Bay. The flavor was delicious--the corn was especially scrumptious, and I took much pleasure in sucking the juice out of the cob, as if it were a crawfish head--and there was just enough boil in the bottom of the bowl to sop with a piece of bread.

Dame's Chicken and Waffles

Disregarding the absurdity of placing Durham on a par with London, Bull City residents can be proud that the New York Times has listed Durham as one of the forty-one places to go in 2011. I'll return to the list at the end of this post, but for now let me report that the city that the Dukes built was chosen for its downtown food scene, which over the past four years or so has undergone a miraculous efflorescence. The article mentions Scratch, Revolution, Rue Cler, and Parker and Otis (although the last is proximate to downtown rather than in downtown proper).

Readers of the Times who decide, yes, Durham really is a place to go in 2011 should of course eat at all of those fine restaurants; but they will have an incomplete experience if they miss another downtown eatery, Dame's Chicken and Waffles. Put simply, Dame's "classy hen," a fried chicken cutlet atop a waffle, is the best meal one can have in Durham. I will even venture to say that it's as good a meal as one can have in London.

The waffle alone is worth the trip. In fact, it was the best waffle I've had in any restaurant. That the cutlet--actually a whole boneless chicken breast--tasted like New Orleans turned a good meal into a great one. The crust was firm and spicy, and the cutlet came right out of the fryer.

The waffle, which in its misshapen grandeur was nearly the size of the plate, came with maple syrup and a small scoop of vanilla-almond cream butter, both served on the side. The waffle is so big, you will want to ask for an extra serving of each.

At Dame's, one can order chicken wings or drumsticks or quarters; but I recommend the cutlet: one can cut through it and to the waffle underneath and put both on the fork together.

The buttered grits that came as a side dish were good too and far better than the miserable fare that nearly every other restaurant shamefully offers. (Note to my fellow Southerners: Do not, under any circumstances, allow Yankee friends to order grits from any restaurant in the South, and certainly from no restaurant in Durham. Do them, and me, a favor: buy some authentic stone-ground grits [the Crook's Corner grits, which are available at Parker and Otis, do just fine] and cook them yourself at home.)

Quite surprisingly for a downtown restaurant Dame's is open seven days a week, and is open to as late as 10:00 on Friday and Saturday nights. For their hours and menu, visit their website.

Back to the Times's list. What is most significant about it is that it recognizes Durham as its own place. I suspect that even five years ago the Times would have been incapable of thinking of Durham as something other than one of the population centers that make up what essayist Joe Queenan once called the "faceless, amorphous Raleigh-Durham." That, at least in the eyes of one of the world's newspapers of record, Durham has succeeded in claiming its own identity is reason to be proud indeed.

Stitches Tailor Shop

I have never understood why being "comfortable" means looking like one just rolled out of bed. I hear this from men who dress casually when they go out in public--and by casually, I don't mean chinos and a polo or collared shirt (which is what casual really means), but shorts (elastic band, no belt), a T-shirt (always untucked and usually with a childish image on it), and tennis shoes, sandals, or worse, flip-flops. That kind of deshabille is especially thoughtless when the man is in the company of his appropriately attired partner or spouse. Have you seen these couples in the grocery store on a Sunday morning? La femme is wearing a blouse and skirt; l'homme, in contrast, has raided his five-year-old son's dirty laundry. Whenever I see a man in public dressed worse than Macauley Culkin in Home Alone, I often think of something that the one-time Raleigh resident and comedian David Sedaris said about male U.S. tourists in Europe: they look like they've shown up to mow somebody's lawn.

But some men do grow up, and when they do, they not only wear slacks rather than shorts, but they take their slacks to a tailor to get altered. And for grown-up men--and grown-up women too--there's no better tailor in Durham than Linda Laws, the owner of Stitches Tailor Shop. But don't take it from me. Two months ago, I brought two pairs of pants to Linda to alter. While I was in the dressing room, I heard someone else enter the shop. When I stepped out of the dressing room, there was Coach K, pair of slacks in hand, sitting on a chair, waiting his turn.

Stitches is in a small white building at 2500 Hillsborough Road, just east of Durham Tire. It's set far back from the road, so it is easy to miss. It's open Monday through Friday from 10 to 6. A pair of pants will cost around $20 to get altered.

The Biggest City in North Carolina

I first encountered this phenomenon when I lived in Madison, Wisconsin, the phenomenon that renders the largest city in a state practically invisible to those who do not live in that city. When I lived in Madison, nobody--and I mean nobody--ever thought of visiting Milwaukee. They didn't know what they were missing, for Milwaukee is a wonderful place.

I've encountered the same phenomenon in North Carolina. Nobody in Durham--and I mean nobody--seems interested in visiting the largest city in the Old North State. Wilmington, yes; Asheville, yes. But the home of the Levine Museum of the New South? When I suggest a day trip to the city where Mert's Heart and Soul--the best soul-food restaurant in the state--can be found, I'm usually met with blank stares. "What would we do there?" is a typical response.

I don't know how long it's been since you've been to the home of the Mint Museum, but I'm here to tell you it's worth a visit. The several square blocks around the historic Dunhill Hotel is an urban center done right: attractive new buildings and even a few old ones nicely preserved here and there. Most of all, it feels like a big city--heck, it is a big city--and if you are like me, you occasionally need a big-city fix.

During the weeks preceding Christmas, the best attraction within twenty miles of the NASCAR Hall of Fame is the light show at the Daniel Stowe Botanical Gardens. This year, there were over 600,000 lights; the crew began installing them in late September and didn't finish until Thanksgiving. And this is a light show done with taste. There was a stand of crepe myrtles with lights arranged to look like snowflakes and ornaments; it was one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen.

Danny's Barbecue

It's funny, the way the place in which one grew up gets hard-wired, as a friend of mine used to say, into one's system. Last September, on a visit to Memphis, my hometown, I went for a walk through some woods along the Wolf River, a tributary of the Mighty Mississippi. I couldn't really explain it--perhaps it was the particular hardwoods that grow in that area, or maybe it was the feel of the swampy bottomland that lies adjacent to the river--but as soon as I stepped into those woods, I said to Rebecca, who was visiting the city with me, "Now this is what woods are supposed to look like."

I had a similar reaction the moment I stepped into Danny's Barbecue last night on Highway 54 in Morrisville: "Now, this is what a barbecue restaurant is supposed to smell like," I said to Rebecca, who was again with me. It did not surprise me, therefore, that the barbecue was, just as I gathered from the photographs on the restaurant's website, much like the barbecue one finds in Memphis. Danny, the owner, is from Florida, and he says his barbecue is just like the kind he used to eat in the Sunshine State. My point is that this is not traditional North Carolina barbecue. The meat is cooked in a wood-fired smoker, for thirteen hours, and served with sauces--a sweet tomato-based, a spicy tomato-based, a mustard-based, and a vinegar-based--on the side. Tender and moist, the pork we had was coarsely chopped and delicious.

I just learned about Danny's a couple of days ago, doing a simple Internet search for barbecue restaurants in Durham, so I was astonished to find out that the restaurant has been in business for over fifteen years. "We're in Bob Garner's books," Danny told us after we had finished our meal. I have those books; how could I have missed them? But sure enough, Danny's is in them; I checked as soon as I got home.

"Next time try the turkey," said Danny, who wore a red sweatshirt with the words "Bah Humbug" across the front. "Next to the pork, it's our most popular item. In fact," and here he turned to the kitchen and kindly asked them to put together a small sampling of his turkey, beef brisket, and ribs. (As if I weren't already making plans to come back!) I took the sampler to a couple of friends of mine, who both pronounced the food "fantastic." One of them, after she finished the meat, ate what was left of the sauces with a spoon.

Danny's has several side dishes, including field peas; that alone wins several points in my book. They were excellent, although the Brunswick stew was disappointing, as it had virtually no meat in it. The baked beans were a dark brown and sweet and delicious.

Much to my delight, Danny's plates come with Texas toast. As great as the barbecue and field peas were, I most enjoyed tearing off a piece of the Texas toast and sopping it in the baked-bean "juice."

For dessert, I had to try the banana pudding. For those of you who care about these things--and I do--it was topped with whipped cream rather than a meringue. I prefer a meringue topping, but the pudding was nevertheless some of the best I've ever had.

For diners used to the all-you-can-eat feeding troughs at the buffets that impair the American character (not to mention the American waistline), Danny's will seem a shade pricey for the amount of food that comes on a plate: four ounces of pork, a slice of Texas toast, and two side dishes were over six dollars. Danny's has three locations. The one closest to Durham is on Miami Boulevard, near the Durham Freeway, but it is open only during lunch on Monday through Friday, serving, Danny proudly reported, over three hundred diners a day. The other two are in Morrisville on Highway 54 and in Cary.

Is Durham a Good Barbecue Town?

Here is an irony: North Carolina is considered a good barbecue state, but it has not a single good barbecue city. (Lexington is too small to count.) As a recent post on the BBQ Jew explains, no North Carolina city made the list of the top barbecue cities in a poll conducted by Travel + Leisure magazine. But I did not need a poll to tell me that. I knew already that neither Durham nor Raleigh--nor Greensboro nor Charlotte nor Winston-Salem--is a good barbecue city. To be sure, there are good barbecue restaurants in each city; but not one is a good barbecue city.

What makes for a good barbecue city? For one, there needs to be lots--I mean lots--of barbecue restaurants. Durham, with a population of over 200,000, has, what, eight? The Q-Shack, Bullock's, Dillard's, Hog Heaven, Backyard Barbecue, Ole NC Barbecue, Danny's, and Dickie's, which is a chain restaurant. Am I missing one or two? And only one of them, Bullock's, has a high profile. For a city of Durham's size to be a great barbecue city, I'd say at least two dozen barbecue restaurants are needed. We certainly have that number or more of taquerias. In fact, if Durham is anything, it is a great taqueria town.

For another, a good barbecue city would have two or three barbecue restaurants, each with its devoted fans, that are in an ongoing friendly rivalry with each other. Philadelphia is a good cheese-steak city in large part because of the longstanding rivalry between Pat's and Geno's.

It could be argued that the Triangle is a good barbecue area. The barbecue at Allen and Son in Chapel Hill is as good as I've had anywhere, North Carolina or otherwise. Backyard Barbecue is the best in Durham; in Raleigh, the Pit is my favorite. Those three together make a formidable group. Too bad they are not in a single city.