Avondale Common House at Ferus on 41st: The name is a mouthful, but don't let that stop you...
From getting the best fried green tomatoes in town
(UPDATE: Unfortunately, no longer in business.)
Toward the end of last year, we read the news that Avondale Common House was moving down the street to merge with Ferus on 41st. Since we used to frequent the Common House, on a recent Tuesday, we decided to drop by for lunch and see what the new sitch was like.
Let me preface this story by saying that the Common House only re-opened in their new digs on January 3 and it was a Tuesday right after a holiday break, so when I say what I’m fixing to say about our experience, it is only to accurately relay our singular experience at this one point in time.
Moving on.
If you don’t know where this place is, it’s at the intersection of 5th Avenue South and 41st Street – basically the gateway to the Avondale district – across from Avondale Park and the Avondale Library. It used to be Fancy’s on 5th, a place I regret never getting to go to. And aren’t Southerners bad to give you directions according to something that “used to be” in a place rather than any sort of concrete, visible landmark?
The wind blew us in the doors to Avondale Common House a little after noon. There was a chalkboard with specials on the bar to our right and tables to the left. In the center of the restaurant are two big scrap lumber trees with branches that stretch across the ceiling. Very Ozish if Lowes is Oz and no one needs an apple.
There was no “Please Wait To Be Seated” sign, and aside from a man sitting at the bar working on a laptop and two couples at two different tables, no one else was there. There was no one behind the bar. There was no one in the kitchen. There were no servers or hosts.
Honestly, it was a little weird and awkward, like we had died and no one could see us or hear us and we were just observers of a situation. We stood by the door for a few seconds wondering what to do before we decided to just sit at the bar. We sat at the opposite end from the working man because I personally can’t stand it if someone sits right by me when there are a ton of vacant seats or, if there’s a host present, they seat me right by someone when there are a ton of vacant seats.
We took off our coats and settled in and looked around. Still nobody.
It felt like the other few people who were already seated couldn’t see us either. For some reason we were whispering. Enough time passed that I contemplated just sneaking back out the door and going somewhere else. After all, since we were apparently dead and had entered some alternate universe, who would notice? And in that case, why sneak? We should just dance out!
About the time I was reaching for my coat, a woman appeared out of the back, noticed us, and brought menus. And from that point on, everything was great – just like it’s supposed to be in the land of the living!
Even though we were sitting at the bar, we ordered iced teas – unsweet (I ain’t fixin’ to get the diabetus just to keep my Southern card). And while I’m usually not opposed to a festive lunchtime libation, we’re doing Dry January so we stayed away from the beer, wine and cocktails. The Avondale Common House does have quite an extensive offering though with a lot of tasty-looking cocktails, and the bar seems well stocked. I do have to say that, at first glance, I thought the beer pulls were chicken feet, but I think that says more about me than them.
One thing that I’ve always loved about the Avondale Common House is that they clearly identify the gluten-free options on the menu with a little “no wheat” symbol. They also denote vegetarian/vegan options with a green leaf check mark. It’s helpful to not have to guess, but we wondered why something like french fries didn’t have a gluten-free symbol. Turns out their fries are coated in some sort of crust. All you have to do is ask, though, and they are happy to tell you and/or make an accommodation.
We started out with an order of fried green tomatoes, which is served with a “corn maque choux” (pronounced “mock shoe”) and Cajun remoulade. Maque choux is a dish that early Louisiana settlers most likely learned from the Native Americans already living there. It consists of corn, bell peppers, and onion cooked down in some sort of grease, usually bacon, but Native Americans would have probably used some sort of different fat. More modern versions might include hot peppers, tomato, tasso or sausage, and other things. Just a note to menu writers though, maque choux is always corn so there’s no need to say “corn maque choux.” Without corn, it’s just sauteed peppers and onion.
Our appetizer arrived quickly, and we dove right in. Now, I’ve eaten a lot of fried green tomatoes in my day (including at the Whistle Stop Cafe/Irondale Cafe that made them famous) and they can range from thick slices of hard tomato covered in a thick gluey crust to paper thin slices that cower under their thin, flaking crusts, crushed by the weight of the grease in which they were drowned. It’s real easy to mess up fried green tomatoes, folks, and I always order them sort of like an ambulance chaser racing to the scene of an accident – you just want to see what happens and how tragic it will be.
I am happy to report that this dish was not a travesty by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, it was just about the most perfect rendition of this Southern classic that I have ever had! The tomato slices were Goldilocks – neither too thick or too thin. They were just right! The gluten-free cornmeal coating somehow didn’t fall off and was perfectly fried and crispy on the outside and not gummy on the inside. And the tomatoes were hot hot hot, steaming hot, practically still sizzling. And when we cut into one, we got that satisfying crunch of a restaurant knife going through something that’s bound to be out of sight. And despite having a very recent dip in some hot grease, the fried green tomatoes were not greasy at all. (Y’all, I’ve had fried green tomatoes that left a puddle of grease on the plate. That’s just nasty.)
My only surprise with this dish was that as hot as the tomatoes were, the accompanying maque choux, served on the side which I’m sure helped the tomatoes stay crispy, was refrigerator cold. In my experience, maque choux is always a hot dish. BUT I ain’t criticizing because a bite of the hot tomato topped with the cold corn relish, which is how I chose to think of it, was the perfect marriage of temperatures and flavors, so I really didn’t mind it. Ricky likened the maque choux to a corn pico de gallo, and although he liked it, he said he wouldn’t have missed it if the dish were just tomatoes and remoulade.
The dinner entrees aren’t available until after 4 p.m., so at lunch you can choose between Starters, Handhelds, or the Salads.
Ricky chose the Campfire Burger with Common Slaw on the side, no bun. The burger is described as a “half pound double cheeseburger with pepperjack cheese, fried jalapenos, smoked bacon, pickles, tomatoes, shaved red onions, and campfire sauce served on a Brioche Bun.” The server let us know that the fried jalapenos had a coating and offered to make an adjustment to keep the dish gluten free. The burger arrived topped with the bacon and melted cheese on top of the lettuce with the rest of the fixins, including some raw jalapeno slices, on the side next to a generous serving of a mayo-based slaw. Ricky said that the burger was delicious, juicy, and cooked perfectly. He didn’t notice any Campfire Sauce, but also didn’t miss it.
I ordered the Common House B.L.T. which was “thick cut smoked bacon, chopped Romaine, tomatoes, garlic aioli, served on sliced sourdough.” The sign near the front door had advertised Tomato Bisque as a special of the day, and I asked if I could have a cup of soup as my side, which the server said was fine. I was very happy I subbed the soup, which came in a bowl with what I think was a balsamic drizzle and melted cheese on top. There were small pieces of garlic in the otherwise creamy soup, and it was just what the doctor ordered on a cold, windy day. It could have been a little hotter, but I enjoyed it just the same. The Avondale Common House was also out of crackers, so they sent out a plate of homemade croutons to go with the soup, and frankly, that was just better.
The B.L.T. was ginormous! It could easily be split between two people who also got the soup. The bread was toasted and greasy in a good, buttery way. The lettuce was crisp, the tomatoes were ripe, and the aioli was delicious. The Virgo in me wanted the aioli spread on both the top and bottom pieces of bread, and there could have been more bacon because it was overwhelmed by the tomato and seemed hidden under the lettuce. I would have also preferred whole slices of bacon and not pieces, but y’all…it’s bacon. It was good. And who am I kidding? I’m just being nit picky now. I also ate the whole damn thing by myself, so it was far from terrible.
Here is our hope for the Avondale Common House at Ferus – we want it to catch on as a favorite lunch spot. You should go! The quality of the food is well worth the price, and a place like that should be busy at high noon. Maybe people aren’t familiar with them being in the new location. Maybe other days are different. Maybe we’ll see you there soon, because we’ll definitely be back!
Here’s how we rated the Avondale Common House at Ferus on 41st on a scale of 1 to 5 hamburgers, 1 being the worst and 5 being the best:
Atmosphere: 🍔🍔🍔 (The inside where we were is a little blah and the big tree things seem out of context, but there’s a huge patio and outside area for nice weather days, which we’re sure will be packed come spring.)
Food: 🍔🍔🍔🍔
Service: 🍔🍔🍔🍔 (Once we were noticed.)
Bathrooms: 🍔🍔🍔
p.s. Did you know Ricky and I are both working artists too? Check out our work at Popskull Studios! You’ll find prints of our work as well as our music and cocktail zine — The Popskull Penumbra — which showcases one album paired with one cocktail each month and includes original art and usually a surprise. Get a subscription or buy previous issues!