Maggie's Diner Review

Maggie’s Diner is somewhere close to a perfect center point between where my friend Mike was arrested, the drunk tank he was kept in, and the bail bonds men I used to bail him out. If you had been with me that day this would give you near perfect directions to Maggie’s, but since you most likely were not – it is located off Lurleen Wallace near the jail and directly across the street from an old train yard.

            You may be thinking, “Why would I want to go there?” You probably don’t… yet, and if you ever decided to go park in the pothole ridden, old train yard before eating lunch, you may begin to question your decision and my sanity. However, if you follow your stomach, at least if you are a good Southerner raised on chicken, greens, and biscuits, you will find “the best soul food in West Alabama,” as the red banner above the entryway Maggie’s proclaims.  This is the only clue that the diner is located on the historic block next to Howard’s and Linton’s barber shop which is owned by Maggie’s brother and boast a rich history of the Civil Rights Movement and the African American culture in the state of Alabama, complete with walls of photograph and a collection of over 400 antique shaving mugs. Otherwise, the only indicator on how to find the place would be word of mouth, of which there is plenty by anyone who has ever eaten there. I alone have found myself mentioning the quaint establishment at least half a dozen times since my first meal a few days ago, which was closely followed by my second.

            Maggie prepares her food with all the pride that can be found in Southern cooking. There is no regard in her kitchen to counting calories or cutting carbs, both of which would mean less butter and that would be a crime. True Southern soul food has been deeply rooted in the traditions of African American cooks and slaves. There is a rich history of a people and a culture built from hardships and it has produced the food that the people of the South yearn for, and there is no one more suited to prepare an authentic, rich Southern meal for you than a woman who has lived through some of the region’s most uncertain times from civil rights to housing crises.

            Being at Maggie’s is a lot like being dumped into a food scrapbook from my childhood. The cafeteria style dining reminds me of summer days when I was out of school eating at Fife’s with my dad. (Fife’s is another soul food restaurant in Birmingham, although I can’t say the food is not as authentic as the delicacies served at Maggie’s.) The fried chicken reminds me of evening meals at my grandmother’s house where her homemade fried chicken would encompass a platter big enough for an entire bird, and still would be threatening to overflow. Maggie’s chicken is not greasy like many places insist on making it, and it has that tender fall-off-the-bone feel, that distinguishes true, homemade chicken from its inauthentic imposters. The dressing served at Maggie’s is as sweet as the homemade recipe my mother has made for holidays my entire life, which has been passed through her family for some generations. Behind the counter Maggie keeps a tub of fried okra which maintains the perfect consistency of batter to vegetable. It is not too soft where the two may separate, and not too hard fried so as the okra flavor disappears. In short, being at Maggie’s was like having my childhood served on a plate for me.

            According to Maggie, the flatbread cornbread is a delicacy that the restaurant is best known for. I am not normally a fan of cornbread. I find it too dense, and I don’t like the texture of corn meal. I have my reasons to be hesitant, but I accepted the ladies’ offer of the cornbread made pancake style. I have never, in all my years of experiencing soul food, had a piece of flatbread offered to me, and my reasons were no match for the persuasion of the warm smiling faces at Maggie’s. One bite later, it is easy to see why they are so eager to lay it on the plate of anyone entering their establishment; it is a starch worth returning for. It is a decision I will never live to regret. The flatbread has all the fluffy feeling of a dinner roll and the corn mill flavor is never dense enough to be overpowering given the additions thin nature.

            Gravy is another dish I often avoid for the most part, but that is a staple at Maggie’s. I cannot say what made me accept the offer to slather my dressing with the light brown liquid, maybe it was instinct, maybe it was more warm faces, maybe it was a fear of dry dressing (after eating there not a fear I will ever have again), or maybe it was simply the exhilaration of my brain contemplating all the sweet aromas of the food in front of me. Whatever the case, it is probably the absolute best decision I have made concerning food in my entire life. This small addition to my meal is what had me reliving my Maggie’s culinary adventure again just three days later. I simply could not wait to experience the gravy again. I completely mopped it up with my delicious flatbread on both occasions. I believe that is the sweetest, most flavorful liquid I have ever ingested in my short twenty-one years of life.

            Maggie has taken foods that we all know from living in the South and has raised them to a new level. She has taken food born out of antebellum plantations and menial salaries as hired help, and perfected every dish. My grandmother has always told me the mark of a good cook is that no one leaves hungry and the mark of a great cook is that no one can leave. I could barely extract myself from Maggie’s table when she was closing after my first meal, and I have already been back for seconds (thirds might not be too far off). This, in my opinion, makes Maggie’s food possibly the greatest Southern cooking I have ever eaten. Maybe I’ll take Mike there the next time I bail him out for a little pick-me-up meal.