“Glorified Popeye’s,” he muttered. “No it’s more special than that,” I said. We both fell to the task of devouring fried chicken down to the bone. Maybe I thought it was special because of the setting—a summer night with a hint of fall, after the most photogenic sunset the city had seen in months; the JMZ train rumbling not-unpleasantly overhead, a beer cooling in my hands. But on second thought, maybe it really was the chicken.

My chicken box ($11), which was served on a plate, came with three pieces of brined, deep-fried chicken. Lightly crisp, golden crust (not too greasy), a bitable prison for tender, juicy meat. Umami-receptors-screaming-hell-yes, belt-loosened-to-first-notch, satisfaction. Pies n’ Thighs also has a pulled pork box, fried catfish box, chicken brisket sandwich box, and burger, but I can vouch for none of these. Just get the fried chicken!

The chicken box also came with a choice of side and a biscuit. Since they were out of hush puppies, I chose grits, and my associate chose collard greens. What passed next can only be described a mutual flicker of disapproval for the other’s taste in Southern side dishes. The grits were fine–a creamy baseline for fried chicken savoriness–at least around the edges. I did not appreciate the squirt of hot sauce soaking in the middle. It’s like putting hot sauce on mashed potatoes; sure, you can do that, but should you? The collard greens were allright, if you like greens seasoned with plenty of salt and pork. The biscuit tasted like it had been baked much earlier that day and had been patiently waiting my arrival. But since it was otherwise a fine specimen, I liked it well enough. I didn’t expect much from a side of peaches and cilantro ($4), and it pretty much met my expectations. Maybe this combination works in a salsa, but I thought that the perfectly lovely peach wedges would have been better off left unadulterated by cilantro. Still, none of the sides were bad, and I came dangerously close to not having room for pie.

I ordered a slice of key lime and my associate ordered banana cream ($4.50/each). When our slices arrived the waitress switched them so the banana cream settled in front of me. When my associate promptly pulled it back across the table, and sent the key lime sliding my way, I realized that perhaps I should have ordered differently. But since I’ve been forged by the fire of many years of snacking, I tucked away my pie without complaint. The key lime filling was suitably tart and creamy, but the pie would have been 100% better had the graham cracker crust not been soggy.  The banana cream slice was far better. I did sense something in the banana filling that tasted suspiciously instant-puddingy, but I merely noted it and moved on to enjoyment.

I have a feeling I’ll be back. Pies n Thighs is not a fried chicken “event” like the $100 Momofuku chicken dinner, or trek-worthy, like a soul food meal in Harlem. But it’s pretty likely I’ll be in Williamsburg some evening, wandering from one place to the next, and it will strike me that what I really want right now is some plain, unpretentious, and tasty fried chicken. Without setting foot in a Popeye’s. And this time I will order the banana cream pie.

Pies n Thighs
166 S. 4th St. at Driggs St.
Mon-Fri breakfast: 8-11, lunch: 11-4, dinner: 5-12
Sat-Sun brunch: 10-4, dinner: 5-12

On holidays I scuttle out of the city into the woods of upstate New York like a cranky hermit crab seeking a quiet, once-disposed-of but always-dependable mollusk house. Sometime during this long drive toward the unchanging hometown a familiar snack craving awakens, one that will only be silenced by grits and cheese.

In those parts, as far as I know, this decadently melty, creamy, cheesy, sticks-to-your-ribs, better-than-potatos dish can only be found at Max’s Memphis BBQ. Max’s, which resembles a glowing modern temple of worship that bathes in fragrant drafts of hickory-smoked meat, stands on the outskirts of Red Hook NY (about 90 miles up the Hudson - not to be confused with its Brooklyn counterpart).

For cheap eats, you can do no better than the pulled pork sandwich ($6.95), served with succulent, sandwichable pork and raw onion and a small side salad topped with dijon viniagrette, and a half-pint of said cheese grits ($2.50). If you’re going for take-out you may want the full pint for late-night refrigerator raids. If eating in, cozy up with one of the locally-brewed Keegan Ales on tap and you’ve got a mighty dose of supremely palliative southern-influenced upstate Comfort Food.

Max’s Memphis BBQ 138 S Broadway Red Hook, NY 12571
Tues-Sun 5pm-10pm