Put Some South in Yo' Mouth

I think I need a semester abroad…at the University of Georgia,” declares Ben E. Click ’06, a native of Atlanta, Ga. “The South is like a different country.”

“Where the women are hot and the beer is cheap,” adds Jacob H. Welch ’06, also from Georgia. “You don’t see many camouflage hats up here,” he says nostalgically. Brother Jimmy’s, the new restaurant and bar that has planted its cowboy boots in the former stomping ground of the House of Blues, is making Click, Welch and other members of Harvard’s newly founded Southern Society more than a little homesick.

Truth be told, a night at Brother Jimmy’s can make anyone—even the most stalwart Yankee—wish he or she were from the South.

Our group is gathered on the third floor, which is already packed with post-tailgaters. Two big-screen TVs are playing different college football games: Auburn vs. Georgia on one, Purdue versus Ohio State on the other. The walls are decorated with loud signs saying things like, “Put some South in yo’ mouth” and “Rib Feast! All-U-Can-Eat Ribs $17.95 2 hours max!” The gusty November weather seems miles away—especially when “Sweet Home Alabama” comes on the stereo and everybody cheers, jumps up and starts singing along.

The Southern Society, recently founded by Kelly N. Fahl ’06, feels at home here. Does Brother Jimmy’s live up to their Southern bar standards? “Not bars, barbecue joints,” a chorus of voices chime simultaneously. There is a difference, apparently. Charleston, S.C. native Burden H. Walker ’06 explains, “You’re driving on the highway and there’s nothing, there’s nothing, there’s nothing…and then there’s this shack with Christmas lights—Bubba’s Barbecue Joint!” Brother Jimmy’s is the Bubba’s of Cambridge, right down to the Christmas lights strung across the ceiling above the bar.

In true Southern fashion, the bar is half the fun. Adventurous patrons can enjoy concoctions such as the gargantuan “Trash Can Punch.” For $65, Brother Jimmy’s mixes two-and-a-half gallons of liquor, juice and ice, and serves in a giant glass container with about a million huge colored straws. Think Scorpion Bowl on steroids. “Minimum of 8 people required!” the menu warns. If you have a smaller group, try the “Swamp Water” ($16). Described as “64 ounces of pure hell,” it’s actually a tasty tropical cocktail with a kick, served in a glass fishbowl with a plastic alligator that you can take home with you. Whenever anybody orders Trash Can Punch or Swamp Water, the waitress brings it to the table while blowing a whistle. Usually, at that point, the restaurant starts cheering again, and it’s proper Southern etiquette to invite the waitress to share the drink. If you’re not in the mood for something served in a bucket, there are slightly smaller options—still served in Mason jars, though—such as Plantation Punch and the bright blue Carolina Cooler, as well as shots with intriguing names like “Say a Prayer” and “Moonshine: Pure rot-gut. Be strong.” Though it’s easy to become completely distracted by the drink menu, as we almost did, don’t forget that Brother Jimmy’s has food too. Because it opened so recently, a few of the starters and dinners listed on the menu aren’t available yet. A piece of paper inserted into the menu lists the omissions but assures us, “By this time next week, y’all is gonna be able to experience it all!!!” For now there’s still plenty to experience. Starters include various types of hot wings, hush puppies, fried okra and “frickles.” For the woefully uninformed, those are fried pickles. There are a few salads, but the heart of the menu lies in the more meaty options: all sorts of ribs, pulled pork, chicken fried steak, catfish and barbecued chicken. Vegetarians need not despair—a veggie-and-cheese burrito and a vegetable plate will be available soon. In the meantime, you can make a meatless (if somewhat starchy) meal out of sides—try the collard greens, macaroni and cheese, candied yams with walnuts and black-eyed peas.

When dinner is over, the members of the Southern Society lean back contentedly, their faces streaked with barbecue sauce. They’d stay here all night if they could, but they have their first Southern Society meeting to attend at eight. Plus, Welch needs a smoke. “In the South,” he says, “you wouldn’t have to go outside to smoke. And if you did have to go outside, it wouldn’t be so damn cold.” Stepping out the door into the frosty Cambridge night is definitely disconcerting—we feel as if we’re being forced to end a pleasant vacation. Luckily, we can go back whenever we want. Brother Jimmy’s is a place where anybody can be Southern, if only for a night. Heck, we might even start wearing camouflage hats.