Bring a big appetite to Warmdaddy's, the blues club on Columbus Blvd., 'cause they are gonna feed you! I checked it out on a Wednesday night and the joint was jumping with live music and a full house.
The band's lead singer riffed about the cornbread between sets, and if ever a cornbread deserved a song, this is it. Served in a cast iron skillet, the consistency is moist and soft enough to pass the butter test (in that you don't need any.) And glory be, it's glazed with honey!
Warmdaddy's serves the best rendition of shrimp and grits I have tasted this side of the Mason Dixon line. The sauce had the right touch of tomato and cayenne and the grits were creamy and kissed with cheddar cheese. Billed as an appetizer, the portion was large enough to be an entrée. My only complaint was that it was lukewarm.
You may think you know fried chicken, but if you've never eaten it with a cornbread waffle and syrup, I cry for you. The marriage of Mrs. Butterworth's and Warmdaddys juicy-inside, crispy-outside, perfectly fried chicken, is absolutely divine. I was less thrilled with my man's choice (okay fine, what I chose for him,) the catfish Po' boy. The sweet potato fries that accompanied it were delicious, but the catfish wasn't as tender and meaty as what I was used to when I lived in the South.
When I protested I was too full for dessert, our server suggested I take it home for breakfast. Never one to argue with sound logic, I ordered pineapple bread pudding with vanilla cream sauce. It was dense and doughy as a bread pudding ought to be and so full of buttery delightfulness that the next day I found myself protectively hunched over my plate, lest my children ask for a bite.
The service was friendly, and even though the extensive menu is on the pricey side, Warmdaddy's has a gracious, down-home vibe. The comfy booths are particularly nice for sinking into after a 4000 calorie meal. And just like shoes at a yoga studio, any qualms you have about cholesterol are best left at the door.
