Bootleg BBQ?
Tribeca’s new ‘meat speakspeak-easy’ is a kooky concept, but the food’s great
SO many “speak-easy” joints are popping up, it’s easy to laugh at them all — and to chortle over a “meat speak-easy,” as Tribeca’s new Holy Ground claims to be. What’s the big idea, guys? The quirky subterranean eatery fuses two distinct dining crazes that don’t ordinarily rub shoulders: Southern-style barbecue and leather-and-luxe, Prohibition-era design.
Although the apparent disconnect might upset traditionalists, it’s great news for anyone who loves luscious smoked meat but hates hearing Dolly Parton’s “Jolene” for the 1,001st time — or putting up with the usual butt-breaking, picnic-table shtick.
Launching a barbecue spot in more civilized surroundings was a longtime “fantasy” that coowner Nathan Lithgow shared with business partner Franco V, Lithgow tells The Post. According to Lithgow, when their other partner, Matt Abramcyk (who’s also behind Smith & Mills and Yves, among other places) “had this space available in Tribeca” — the former home of Latin party scene Super Linda — they thought, “Aha!”
Sectioned into nooks with silly names like Bunny’s Hideaway and Foxy’s Lair, Holy Ground at first glance suggests a cheaper Chumley’s or 4 Charles Prime Rib — downtown speak-easy-inspired joints that offer rarefied steak- and chophouse menus.
Slow-smoked pork shoulder and collard greens with ham hocks seem out of place amid the clubby restaurant’s mahogany walls, red-leather banquettes and “vintage” mirrors and photos.
But happy, stylishly dressed 30-something customers don’t sweat the cultural clash after imbibing mixologist Matthew Hunter’s killer cocktails, such as the Belafonte, a potent tropical-redolent blend of Demerara rums, sherry, passion fruit, pineapple and lime. The 100 percent country-free soundtrack boasting swing-era hits mellows the boozy mood.
Holy Ground pitmaster Franco V, who earned raves for his pop-up barbecue spot at Manhattan’s Fort Gansevoort last summer, cheerfully shuns rigid barbecue labels.
“We use a dry rub, sort of in the Carolinas vinegary vein, but it also has mustard and other stuff,” he tells The Post. An Ole Hickory smoker imparts cherry- and oak-wood essences to cuts from famed purveyor D’Artagnan.
Kurobuta pork shoulder ($35), beef ribs ($36) and wagyu brisket ($24 for half a pound) emerged explosively flavored and slurpably moist after spending some 12 hours in the smoker. A few nonmeat choices were ridiculously good as well: I’ve never had collard greens ($11) as buttery and tender as executive chef Tadd Johnson’s. Grilled, heads-on red prawns ($16) from Fulton Market were plump, sweet and iodine-free.
Only one disaster cost me sleep: a fatty, $120, “king’s cut,” 30-ounce prime rib. It came in a pool of over-smoked herb jus that tasted as if a Slim Jim had lodged in my esophagus overnight.
To remind you it’s the Big Apple, not the Big Easy, Holy Ground has a few common local nuisances. Waiters and waitresses say “That’s my personal favorite” about every dish and drink.
And there’s no bread! In a Southern-style restaurant? “We want to make sure people aren’t leaving uncomfortably full,” a spokeswoman explains. It sounds more like a way for them to save a few bucks, as is common at many new restaurants.
But I’ll happily go without bread to have so much good barbecue without getting a sore butt — and without Dolly Parton. Holy Ground smokes its wagyu brisket for up to 12 hours.