On my way home from the gym, traveling through the oft-maligned Park Place neighborhood of Norfolk, I noticed a small building that just ...didn't fit. A sign, popping out in hyper-realistic 3D, read "HANDSOME BISCUIT." The building was tinged in bright orange and cleanly appointed in contrast to the surrounding rows of aging residential and semi-dilapidated industrial structures. Across the street is a convenience store shielded beneath iron bars and security cameras. I thought to myself, "What the hell is this place doing here?" My curiosity quelled as I left those mystifying twelve seconds behind and continued with daily life. Weeks passed... Then, a few days ago I discovered their yelp page listed under "New Restaurants" and immediately I recognized it. I texted a foodie friend to get his two cents, and he responded- "I JUST ATE THERE 2 HOURS AGO. GREASY GOODNESS."
My love affair with the biscuit sandwich has been rocky, to say the least. In the past I've had some delicious versions (homemade, ex-mother-in-law's house, once at Bojangles, all involving chicken and/or bacon, egg & cheese) and some terrible versions (Hardees, Bojangles on a bad day, Bob Evans). The biscuit is a difficult medium to work with from a sandwich standpoint. If the biscuit is too undercooked, it bastes the roof of one's mouth with floury paste and falls flat. Too overcooked, it crumbles into a pile of chunks. What intrigued me about Handsome Biscuit is their decision to use sweet potato flour on all of their biscuits. Sweet potato dough locks in moisture better, has a slightly denser consistency than regular flour, and exhibits a delicate, mildly sweet flavor. I set a date for Thursday, my day off, at 11am, between the morning and lunch rushes.
The miniscule parking lot was filled up, so I parked on the street. Inside, there was one customer ahead of me and a quirky-looking hipster family sitting in the corner among the five tables inside. I ordered two "Hella Fitzgeralds, " a "Dill NaNa," the hash brown crisp, and Dijon potato salad. Several items I ordered to go, but I was too hungry to wait for my own biscuit so I ordered in. I would wash it down with the Pineapple Mint Aguafresca, a delectably complex house-made soda. The manager/owner, who resembles a more serious Joel McHale, was very kind, took my order patiently, and had me scan my credit card on the house IPad. All very 21st Century.
My plate arrived seemingly upon a cloud, enwreathed in an effervescent halo. I swear to Jesus I heard angels singing from the Mondrian-inspired, industrial-chic rafters overhead. Before me rested a 7"-tall, utopian sculpture of carbohydrates, fowl, swine and cheddar the likes of which I had never seen in person. As I had been briefed, this was a fork and knife affair.
The Hella Fitzgerald was a biblical experience. The dark meat chicken (probably thigh) was perfectly crisp, golden and flavorful. The thick-sliced bacon lent a benevolent, smoky crunch and was complimented well by shredded cheddar. The sausage-laden black eyed pea gravy was drizzled atop the meat in excellent measure- not too much, which would have overtaken the sandwich and turned it into a "biscuit & gravy" plate, but not a skimpy portion, either. As I had predicted, the biscuit stood up well to the other ingredients texturally, and the flavor was a biscuit aficionado's dream come true.
I have had excellent frittatas before, but the Dill NaNa, a potato and onion specimen blanketed in seared arugula and accentuated by the tangy coolness of their house aioli, ranks way up there. They bravely place it in a biscuit and I applaud their maverick orchestration of starches. The heaviness of the biscuit contrasts against the airiness of the frittata, the aioli coalesces with the warm arugula, a subtle bitterness parallels the sweetness of the tuber. I get it. I love it. The hash browns were some of the best I've had. Emanating a morning steam like dew upon a potato field, shreds crusted with the perfect caramelization and crowned with a handsome garnish of mixed greens, this dish qualified as a nominee for Best Supporting Carb. Potato salad was simply-prepared and delicious, featuring an oddly harmonious combination of green beans, arugula, and savory mayonnaise (or aioli?) and topped with an overeasy egg. Ok, the egg was unnecessary. But who am I to complain? By this point, my discerning tastebuds had been humbled by the assault of textures and flavors; I was practically numb from the caloric fallout.
The Handsome Biscuit is a fitting name, but if you are watching your diet, beware. The food is heavy and unapologetically unhealthy. I passed it on the way home from the gym, and now my greatest desire is to return to the gym and after many hours compensating with sweat, revisit. I fear the cycle may repeat indefinitely. read more