“Wow. Even the burps taste good.”

Such was my friend’s assessment of the meal we’d finished inhaling a few moments ago.

Not only do I agree with her glowing gastrointestinal review, I feel especially accomplished because this comment is coming from the one friend I have that is the absolute hardest to please in the culinary department. Everybody has that friend. Hell, some of you ARE that friend. You know the one, doesn’t eat much more than chicken (sans bones) a few vegetables (usually corn, and usually canned) and turns their nose up at the mere suggestion that they ‘try something new’. Case in point: earlier that day, friend and I were chatting at my kitchen island while I munched on some cut watermelon. I offered her some, and she immediately replied, ‘Oh, no. I don’t like watermelon.” Aghast, but undeterred, I ventured what should have been a ridiculous question: “Have you ever tried it?” Her: “Well…no.”

Jesus, keep me near the cross.

My friend attributes her finickiness to some traumatic childhood incident that I can’t remember all the details of, but is vaguely reminiscent of that scene in Crooklyn where the father forces the kid to stay at the table until he finishes all his black-eyed peas.

Needless to say, whenever she comes to town for a visit, it presents me with the challenge of figuring out something to cook or someplace we can eat where I won’t end up watching her scrape off half of the ingredients on the plate or massacre a perfectly good dish because she “doesn’t eat that”, or doesn’t “like the way that feels when I chew it”. On this particular visit, I was determined to find a spot that we both could enjoy. Another friend of mine had recommended the down-home soul food of Son’s Place to me on several occasions, and since I don’t know anyone who doesn’t like Southern soul food, I figured Son’s and I both stood a fighting chance against my friend’s food phobias.

Unable to find a spot in the small lot in front of the restaurant, we parked around the corner, and I kept my fingers crossed for a favorable outcome as we made our way back up the block. As soon as we hit the door, everyone behind the counter belted out a warm greeting; and not in that cheesy, half-assed ‘Welcome to Moe’s’ way. It actually felt like they were glad to see us, you know, like in a ‘Hey, NORM!’ kinda way. Several of the dining customers even looked up and granted us equally bemused and welcoming smiles. Feeling good just to be in the place, we quickly claimed one of the tables draped in a cheery yellow and white checkered tablecloth.

The service at Son’s is chow-line style. You grab a tray, sidle up to the food counter and point to what you’d like. The menu features a different selection of meats and sides for each day of the week, as well as a choice of biscuit, cornbread, or hoe cake (a sure mark of Southern authenticity). The food is served on pale green, industrial strength plastic trays that will instantly remind you of your elementary school cafeteria. Ditto for the surprisingly small portions. The bill? Not so much. For my tray of fried whiting, mac and cheese and collards, I paid just over 10 dollars. Not horrible, but a bit more than I’ve come to expect at a mom-and-pop soul food joint. But you know what they say, you get what you pay for. And what I got was well worth it. The fish was fresh-tasting and coated with a crispy, pleasantly gritty, and perfectly seasoned cornmeal breading. The greens weren’t overly salty nor did they have the too oily / heavy taste that I’ve too often experienced when they’re cooked with meat. The mac-and-cheese was gruntingly great. Sharp cheddar taste, with just the right blend of milk, butter, and egg to give it a creamy, melt-in-your mouth consistency. Even my grandmother’s mac-and-cheese would have self-worth issues if it was placed next to Son’s.

After gleefully shoveling a few forkfuls into my mouth, I realized something. I hadn’t yet heard a peep out of my friend. Cautiously, slowly, I lifted my eyes and ventured a look at her side of the table, praying I wouldn’t see her scowling at her plate like I had so many times before. What I saw, was:

Great success! For the rest of the meal I heard nothing but approving sounds from her, and get this…she even cleaned the bones on the chicken!Thanks to the reasonably sized portions, we both had some room left over for dessert. Mr. Lenn – the heart and soul of Son’s place – chatted us up at the cash register as one of the aunties behind the counter lopped off huge slices of cake for us. My friend went for the pound cake, I opted for the German chocolate. The pound cake, though tasty, was a mite on the dry side – not all that surprising considering that we got one of the last slices. The German chocolate was absolutely heavenly. Super moist, light and fluffy layers, covered with that characteristically rich coconut-pecan frosting. Each bite pushed me closer to the edge of public decency. My friend and I were both so engaged in our desserts, that neither of us even noticed Mr. Lenn turning to clang on a big copper bell behind the register.“Can I have your attention everywuuuuun!!? We’ve got two first-timers here todaaaay! Everybody welcome Edwina and Kisha from Macon!” After which, the other diners clapped and yelled like we were long lost relatives of theirs.

A few moments later, we both left smiling with our bellies full. With the sound of Mr. Lenn’s bell still ringing in my ears, I felt like a champ who’d finally emerged victorious in a long-fought battle.Oh, and to top it all off I even got my friend to try some watermelon later on that day. The verdict? She loved it.

Final Score - Foodies: 2 Finicky eaters: 0.

cheers,
k

Son’s Place
100 Hurt St NE
Atlanta, GA 30307
(404) 581-0530
Note: WEEKDAYS ONLY 7a-3p