The Redhead

In the East Village is the inconspicuous Redhead, where I had what I don't hesitate to say was the best fried chicken I've ever tasted. Here is a photographic representation of it:

The exterior crispiness and interior juiciness of this little hen were unprecedented. Accompanied by a modest duet of cole slaw and deliciously moist cornbread, the whole plate sang to me like a sultry, southern woman with child bearing hips. Also on the table was a nice sized portion of butter, which seemingly contained honey and crack cocaine. I kid you not when I say that after the cornbread ceased to exist, I ate the rest of the butter with a spoon.

Also gracing the presence of the table was this. Spring pea soup, which served as a profoundly refreshing, neon green bath for notably large pieces of lump crab meat, which are not pictured because I ate all of them before I took the photo. Subtle notes of citrus and mint (the latter being a presence I'm generally opposed to but inoffensive and sensible here) gave the whole thing a very spritely exuberance which I poured down my throat in about twenty seconds.

And here is a cheeseburger! With white cheddar, chips and a dill marinated pickle! It was on a brioche roll which personally I feel is like putting a cow in high heels, but it tasted very good nonetheless. I drank a Tanqueray martini with pearl onions and black pepper. It was very short lived. They have a Manhattan with a very small bit of Kahlua in it, called a Gotham. Delectable. Go to this place. 13th Street btwn 1st and 2nd.