Every three months, I bring a different group of Type A health fanatic med students from Columbia. They love it, but they’re horrified people eat like that. I met this woman who was the waitress who was a nurse at Harlem Hospital for years. She told us all these stories about Charles. I finally met the guy. He’s always slaving away two storefronts down. When he’s cooking the fried chicken, he won’t let anybody else inside, even his sons, who help run the restaurant. He’s going to take the recipe to the grave with him.

It’s a buffet, pay before you sit down. It includes unlimited sweet tea, lemonade or soda. She gives you a plate. They always have fried chicken, mac and cheese and ribs, then rotate four things. You can’t beat the fried chicken or hot sauce on the mac and cheese. It’s the best meal.

It’s normally $12.95, but it’s $14.95 for Sunday dinner, and they have extra things, plus dessert, phenomenal bread pudding or carrot cake.

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This entry is filed under Dispatches.