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S= oul Kitchens
by Peter Lilienthal
T= his feature has not been edited or updated since its original publication. (February 2004)

Big E’s Soul Food
1831 Nicollet Ave., Mpls.
612-870-7685
Entrées $4.50– $20. 11:30 a.m.–11 p.m. Monday̵= 1; Saturday; 10:30 a.m.–2 p.m. (brunch) and 3–9 p.m. Sunday. Wheelchair accessible.

Soul City Supper Club<= br> 1833 Nicollet Ave., Mpls.
612-872-4830
Entrées $8–$19. 5:30 p.m.–2 a.m. daily. Wheelchair accessible.

The term soul food tends to mean diff= erent things to different folks. To some, it connotes Cajun or Creole cooking= . To others, it suggests barbecue and smokehouse preparations. To purists, it represents Southern cooking—the foods and flavors that evolved fr= om slave cooking on colonial plantations. More often than not, when a restaurant proclaims that it serves “soul food,” what you’ll find on the menu is a blurring of these different visions. That’s certainly the case with a pair of next-door eateries on Eat Street in Minneapolis. = Still, they are far from being joined at the hip.
The more ambitious of the two is Big E’s Soul Food, where Eric Austin, who grew up in Ind= ianola, Mississippi, and traine= d at the Culinary Institute of America, is chef-owner. Austin describes his “neo-soul” food as a combination of the best of French and Creole styles with Southern roots. Translated, that converts to an extensive bill of fare that runs the gamut from firecracker shrimp étouffée to whiting served with fried green tomatoes to p= ork chops smothered in bourbon-apple brown gravy.
In the style of the great barbecue shacks, Big E’s functions more= as a take-out than dine-in place, although Austin would probably despair the analogy. The five tables seat a maximum of only sixteen diners. Fortunately, the food travels and reheats well.
A standout is the Big Easy jambalaya. This rendition of the classic tomato-sauced paella is abundant with thick slices of andouille sausage, chunks of grilled chicken, and tender pieces of pork, shrimp, crawfish,= and okra. It delivered a wonderful depth of spicy flavors. Another great combination is Hoppin’ John. Although the genesis of the name is a matter of some debate, there’s no denying that the mix of black-e= yed peas, bacon, Creole vegetables, Carolina rice, and cayenne sauce, paired with slices of delicious pork tenderloi= n, will set your taste buds jumping. Ditto the unusual okra poppers—golf-ball–size fritters served (seasonally) with a spicy tomato dip.
I thoroughly enjoyed the well-crisped and fresh-tasting, cornmeal-duste= d, deep-fried catfish fingers. I preferred them to the higher-brow panko-crumbed version. The Carolina buttermilk fried chicken breast, described as seasoned with Lawry’s salt, dredged in egg, buttermi= lk, and flour, didn’t have much to show for the effort. The meat emer= ged dry, the breading thin and listless. I didn’t have much of a hankering for the trio of tough pork spare ribs smothered in a sweet-ta= ngy Texas-style sauce. As for the low country–style gumbo, it didn’t have much depth of flavor and the seafood tasted notably fishy.
No real Southern meal is complete without an assortment of side dishes,= and although most entrées include a choice of three, I barely made a dent in the list of twenty. I can, however, recommend the whiskey-baked beans, country potato salad, and excellent black-eyed peas.
Don’t overlook the desserts. By all means, consider the unusual buttermilk pie—a silky combination of egg and sweet buttermilk cr= eam cheese custard with a hint of lemon. It puts ordinary cheesecake to sha= me.
In contrast to the African-American artwork and wooden tables etched wi= th carved initials that define Big E’s, the setting next door at Soul City Supper Club features white tablecloths and a comfortable bar/loung= e. Considering the chef’s credentials (executive chef/general manager Damian Tittle helped open Ravello in Long Lake), its simpler, less ambitious menu is surprising.
My favorite of Soul City’s se= ven appetizers was the meltingly tender fried green tomatoes accompanied by= a wickedly peppery hot sauce. I also enjoyed the grease-free catfish stri= ps sided with some truly great potato- wedge fries. Fried chicken wings arrived lightly breaded and crunchy but weren’t much to crow abou= t. Braised short ribs were soupy and forgettable.
Of the six main courses, I was most intrigued by the traditional pairin= g of fried chicken with waffles. The three pieces of fowl, prepared like the wings, were arranged on top of a crispy breakfast waffle and accompanie= d by a cup of maple syrup. I was surprised how well it worked. A deep bowl of richly flavorful gumbo and the gravy-smothered chicken paired with smoo= th and creamy mashed potatoes were winners as well. A tender pork chopR= 17;s stuffing seemed just a bit out of balance.
Warm peach cobbler for dessert rounded out a pleasant evening. Our wait= ress couldn’t have been more accommodating and charming.
If I had my druthers, I’d knock a hole in the wall that separates= the two places and create a single restaurant. That way there would be room= to enjoy Big E’s diverse and ambitious menu in the kind of comfortab= le, clubby surroundings it deserves. Who knows—stranger things have happened.