Well Fed On the Town

Photo by DJ Wallstrom, from the Farmer Brown website.

Farmer Brown is a restaurant and bar that showcases the produce of local African-American farmers. The menu consists of riffs on American Southern food, such as greens, macaroni and cheese, fried chicken, poor boy sandwiches. The goal of Farmer Brown is to bring to city folk produce grown by African-American farmers, while celebrating African-American culinary heritage. The idea is a good one. I’m excited by the idea of businesses and diners supporting the small farms that are all but disappearing, and moreso by supporting and highlighting this tiny sub-group of small farms. There are few African-American owned farms in California. Farmer Brown intends to bolster those few farms, and perhaps encourage new farms.

Upon entering Farmer Brown, we were greeted by a pleasant hostess who immediately sat us at a table although we had no reservations. I enjoyed the decor, best described as industrial-agricultural-country-sophisticated. The walls are sheathed by rusty metal panels with dull copper at the edges. Small art prints decorate the metal-covered walls, held in place by small round magnets. A large painting depicts a woman’s head surrounded by hairspray cans labeled “Emancipate your soul from mental slavery.” The familiar Bob Marley refrain played in my head throughout dinner.

Farmer Brown is touted for its cocktails, although we didn’t have any. Depending on when you arrive for dinner, the music changes from blues to louder music more befitting a bar atmosphere. (The San Francisco Chronicle recently published a piece on noisy restaurants, in which Farmer Brown featured as an example. I wasn’t bothered by the level of noise, but some people might be, depending on the time of day.)

We began our meal with mini corn muffins and a butter-like spread, served on the house in a pretty wooden bowl. The corn muffins were warm, sweet and soft. The spread left something to be desired, as it tasted of margarine. We ordered homemade lemonade, which is served with half a lemon in the glass, and spicy ginger beer. Both were refreshing and delicious.

Our first course was watermelon salad with ricotta salata, arugula and mint oil. It was perfection. Bite-sized chunks of red and yellow watermelon are piled on a plate along with arugula and shavings of ricotta salata. The salad is drizzled over and encircled by mint-infused oil. The classic combination of salty cheese and sweet watermelon has been traditionally enjoyed in the Mediterranean. Arugula adds a grassy, spicy note to the sweet and salty dish while the freshness of mint oil rounds it all out. The salad arrived on two plates, so as to more easily share it (a thoughtful gesture from the kitchen). My only reservation about the salad was that the ricotta salata shavings are too mild on the palate. Cubes of cheese would have lent a more powerful salty flavor and toothsome texture, which in turn would have provided a stronger foil for the watermelon. Still, the salad was thoroughly enjoyable.

After the salad, we continued on to fried chicken and a pulled pork sandwich, respectively. The chicken comes with greens and macaroni and cheese, while the pulled pork sandwich comes with barbecue sauce and homemade potato chips. The greens were a tasty quick-cooked combination of seasonal greens such as chard. I had been expecting slow-cooked collard greens with bits of smoked ham hock, so this was a departure. Nonetheless, the greens were juicy and well-seasoned, yet still had a bit of bite. The mac and cheese were more like macaroni with an orange béchamel sauce. The sauce, while creamy enough, tasted a bit of flour and paprika, and not very much of the Tillamook cheddar
cheese advertised on the menu. The macaroni was, however, al dente so it stood up to the sauce quite well. I honestly would have preferred a more traditional baked mac and cheese, prepared with a tastier and sharper cheddar such as those found at the farmers’ market or specialty stores.

The fried chicken was well seasoned and fried to a golden crisp without being at all greasy. However, the fried coating was not uniform. Parts of the drumstick, for example, were bare and a bit dry. The fried breast was well-coated with crisp golden batter. The meat, while on the bone, was rather dry and difficult to eat. This was not surprising, as breast meat tends to be dry when it comes from a typically raised chicken. The fried chicken is described on the menu as “Rocky chicken.” I applaud the restaurant’s selection of more “natural” poultry than the typical supermarket variety. But given a choice, I’d opt for a cage-free, pastured, farm-raised bird, such as those sold by African-American farmer Aurthur Davis at the Berkeley farmers’ market. Pastured chicken meat must be handled differently from its supermarket counterpart. But its flavor and even texture are vastly superior to the ordinary supermarket bird, in my experience.

Chicken from Davis’ Ludwig Avenue Farm is always a treat. I was therefore baffled by the omission of Ludwig Avenue Farm chickens from Farmer Brown’s menu. You may as well get your fried chicken at Chicken n’ Waffles or the Lake Merritt Diner in Oakland. Farmer Brown’s fried chicken would be more distinguished by an improvement in frying technique and a change in poultry source. That said, the fried chicken plate at Farmer Brown is quite generous, including a wing, leg and breast.

My companion had better luck with his pulled pork sandwich. The meat itself was soft and juicy, the bun substantial and pleasantly chewy. The barbecue sauce was sweet and slightly spicy, with warm tangy undertones. I could have eaten the whole tub. I only wish the house honey jalapeño hot sauce was as good. (Sadly, it was a bit too much honey and not enough jalapeño.) The chips were crisp and tasty without being greasy.

Finally, we moved on to dessert: pecan pie and strawberry shortcake. The menu claimed the shortcake to be dolloped with “soft whipped cream.” Instead, my shortcake arrived topped by a huge firm scoop of what appeared, at first glance, to be chalky looking ice cream. In fact, it was overly whipped cream. The cream was fresh and tasty enough, but it was flecked with tiny bits of butter that interrupted the smoothness of the whipped cream. Even if the cream had been whipped properly, there was far too much of it to actually eat. I took a few bites and pushed the rest aside.

The shortcake itself was tasty. It consisted of a flat, nearly unsweetened biscuit sliced in half and filled with ruby red strawberries and rhubarb in a sort of brown sugar syrupy sauce. I was very pleased to eat a rhubarb dessert in which the rhubarb slices were still a bit crunchy and firm (instead of stringy and mushy). The rhubarb lent a much-needed sourness to the overly sweetened strawberries. The bottom half of the biscuit soaked up the sauce from the filling, making it soft and sweet like cake. The top half remained crisp, almost like shortbread. The shortcake would have hit the spot with much less sugar in the berry rhubarb filling. Alternatively, the fruit filling could remain as is, if the biscuit were thick and fluffy enough to offset the powerfully sweet filling.

The pecan pie was fairly tasty, but fell short of the ideal. The pecan filling was much less sweet than I had expected—a pleasant surprise to my salty sweet palate. The crust, however, was a bit tough, not at all flaky, and tasted of margarine. This was a disappointment. Pie should be a triumphant ending to a meal, a celebration of flaky, rich buttery (or lardy) crust. This was not.

Our bill was reasonable, but I honestly expect a little more effort from a restaurant with such lofty ideals. Much like the country style decor that permeates the restaurant—the ladies’ room includes such decorative pieces as an old wooden ironing board and a rusty old bike with quaint baskets—the menu should be a little more informed by the bounty of local African-American growers. Their food ought to be celebrated just a little better for the gems they are.

This was my first visit to Farmer Brown.