As I sit here at my keyboard trying to catch up on my blog posts from the last few months, I am wondering how it is that the specter of big brother worms his way onto our computers with something so un-sinister sounding as 'cookies?' Perhaps that name was chosen with devious intent to make it sound cute and blind us to this intrusion with fond memories of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies as big as salad plates? (sinister laugh) I suppose it will take more than a few wise musings within these lowly pages to vanquish that boogeyman. So I'll just put him in the closet for now.
Like any of the bad things in life, perhaps even one formed squarely against our best interests, I find it may still be useful to us under certain circumstances. All those cookies that accumulate on my computer are available to the NSA, but also to the various search engines and news services I visit online. They use them to custom tailor their offerings to me. Interesting how the day after I shop for shoes, all the ads that pop up on the Yahoo front page are for shoes... And... The long history of visiting a plethora of food related sites leads to a front page full of articles about "The 20 best <insert type of food> restaurants in the US." (Surprise! NOT!) I gloss over most of them. I mean how can you really say what the best pizza places in the US are without visiting at least a representative sample much less considering all of them? Every town has at least a dozen or more offerings and that is just the local establishments and not chains. It would take a lifetime of research and since most of the authors of these types of articles are younger than me, I routinely discount the validity of their ratings.
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| I think the cover quote says it all. |
I was able to cajole my lovely wife and a small group of good friends to join me on this mission too. We made the jaunt from our beachfront hotel in Fort Lauderdale to North Miami Beach near the Port of Miami cruise ship docks on a weeknight during rush hour. Traffic was bad, but nothing like Southern Cal. We still arrived in plenty of time to beat the weeknight crowd of locals and found a nice table on the patio. Weather was perfect for outdoor dining. Balmy temperatures, fading sunlight, and a light breeze.
Our hungry quartet sought nothing less than a complete takedown. We didn't order everything on the menu, but almost everything. We started with the Yardbird's version of a wedge salad. Honestly, they could have called it the Wedginator. Yes, it was a wedge salad on steroids. No, the lettuce wasn't some GMO monster. It was just HUGE SALAD. (mmmm... smile) Not just a wedge of lettuce, but the entire head. We probably ordered it out of some misplaced desire to feel like we were eating healthy. I don't normally do that. I just order what I want to eat and if it's healthy... That's just happenstance. Same in this case. Salad was outSTANDING! We also added some of the nightly special - skillet cornbread - as a starter. mmmmmm... It's "Yardbird Southern Table and Bar," but the cornbread had some Yankee sweetness to it. Which I favor, as did the rest of the gang. Nothing left in the cast iron mini skillet, but a few measly crumbs. Smiles all around and excitement for the main feature. (YUM!)
Just like when a large group goes through the painful size/toppings/crust style negotiation at a pizza place, we tried to not have seventeen orders of fried chicken hitting the table. Most felt a half chicken was more than they could eat, but weren't sure what part of it they would yield to their fellow diners. So two chickens were fully committed to our meal that night, since it isn't possible for one and a half chicken to be committed. The other half surely landed on a table nearby. Perish the thought that anyone would go to a place called The Yardbird and NOT order fried chicken. (judgmental stare) With our group the longest part of the negotiation was what sides to pair with the birds. We decided to try nearly all of them. Whipped sweet potatoes, chedddar cheese waffle, macaroni & cheese, and southern style cheese grits. Lastly, we ordered some adult beverages to wash it all down.
One of the friends who joined me that night is built like Kent Tekulve, the tall wiry relief pitcher of the Pittsburgh Pirates of my youth. In spite of his slender build, he knows good food and especially good fried chicken. Although we have disagreed on our ratings in the past, we both decided that the Yardbird is top five on our respective lists. The other two in our party felt likewise. The sides we sampled were also fabulous. Add our opinions to that of the writers of the article I mentioned earlier, and we have a veritable army of Yardbird fans. What does any of this mean?
If you are ever anywhere near North Miami Beach and you are not a communist (see picture above), head straight to the Yardbird, ask for a table on the patio, and order your own plate of "Lewellyn's" finest fried chicken. In the meantime, you can dream about it. I have been there already and I'll be dreaming about it too. Next time I am anywhere near Culver City, I will make it to the Honey Kettle too. (huge smile)
Your Dining Scout and Shade Tree Chef,
Michael Hurd, aka Big Mike
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| This salad is covered in a house made dressing and should really have its own zip code. |
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| 3/4 of the waffle we ordered. Not sure which one of us devoured the other quarter. Gotta love that bourbon maple syrup. |
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| Don't stare too long at that golden brown goodness. It may cause you to want to be like Billy Joel and "...hop a flight to Miami Beach (or to Hollywood)..." |
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| Whipped sweet potatoes. And no, I don't know what they did to deserve that whipping. Seemed sweet as pie to me. |
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| Grits, they're not just for breakfast anymore. |
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