I made a pact with my arteries the other day. Basically, we agreed that I would eat nothing but steel cut oats and raw carrots for the next six months to atone for what I did to them at The Commodore. In return, they agreed to let me off the hook for putting butter on my fried chicken.
In case you aren’t already familiar, The Commodore is a Williamsburg restaurant by Pies ‘n’ Thighs alum Stephen Tanner, and it’s bad for you. Bad because merely looking at the food here will jack up your cholesterol thirty points, and worse because everything is so good that you’ll crave it all the time. Eventually you too will be cutting imaginary deals with your organs to justify frequent visits.
But before you ask the bartender to crush up some Lipitor into your frozen drink, there are a few drawbacks you should be aware of. First of all, this place can be a shit show in the absolute worst way. After 9pm it turns into pretty much the worst bar ever, packed with people who probably moved to Williamsburg because they heard about it on Two Broke Girls. Even if you’re there early, ordering food can be kind of a pain in the ass, and finding somewhere in the place to eat it is another challenge entirely. There is no hostess and there are no waiters, so basically you order from a window and then it’s a free for all between you and all of Brooklyn for one of the few tables. We ate our food off a Pac Man machine last time we were here.
The good news is that none of it will bother you too much, assuming your main goal is to eat some excellent fried chicken and suck back a few Commodores (piña colada with an amaretto float) while you wait. Those things are dangerous. So much so that I have now entered into negotiations with my liver.
Let’s make a deal.
Three thighs and a few tiny biscuits make up one of the best plates of fried chicken we’ve ever had. This is crispy, juicy and impossible to put down.
These are indeed the Caddilac of nachos, with such luxurious features as cheese sauce, crema, and three different salsas. Order them.
A fried chicken breast sandwich with a great name, even though instead of a “hot breast” we ordered it “medium” in fear of overstimulation. A nice sandwich, but this pales in comparison to that plate of thighs.
As previously mentioned, this is a pina colada with an amaretto float. Heart medicine add in is optional.