The Redhead is one of those places that, when it opened in 2008, was so talked about you probably boycotted on principle. It’s small, and they don’t take reservations for fewer than five, and you were likely sick of the fried-chicken craze.
Well, it’s 2012. And the place is still damn good. And affordable. And worth a visit. Set in a dark, unassuming space on E. 13th near First Ave., chef Meg Grace offers her twist on Southern comfort food. Diet-friendly this place is not. But you won’t mind when huge, soft, fresh rolls with honey butter find their way to your table. We started not with the signature bacon peanut brittles (better as a bar snack), but with waffle chips and butter-braised onion dip (a bit of WT perfection).
Next up was the beet salad with horseradish ranch dressing, followed by the two menu must-haves: fried chicken (completely shareable) and a small order of the shrimp and grits with perfectly spicy andouille sausage. Our one near-mistake was getting the drop biscuits with honey—unnecessary due to those rolls from heaven. But I ate them for lunch the next day, along with the cheddar broccoli we somehow didn’t have room for. All of this, plus a beer and an Arnold Palmer, came to $35 per person. Steal! And while the food is indulgent, we didn’t feel disgusting afterward.
Beyond the party in your mouth, Redhead is simply lovely. The people who work here just seem like kind souls; each time our server delivered a dish, I wished he were my uncle.
Even at four years old the place remains packed, so get there early. Or just wait for a table at the small bar, like the locals do. Slow down, sip some whiskey, pretend you’re in the South. What’s the rush? You can go to the gym tomorrow.
iknowcoolthings 
Wonderful writing/review, Stephanie! You’ve inspired me to chow down at The Redhead this month!