Shrimp and Grits SurveyEvery now and then, I get on a jag with one dish that I just want to try everywhere I find it. This compulsion doesn’t flare up often (last time was on Chowhound when I discovered
The Monte Christo Sandwich and ate it everywhere I could) – but when it does, it’s like an uncontrollable urge; I must eat, catalog, document and eat again.
As of the beginning of this year, I don’t think I’d ever had shrimp and grits before; now, I have grown to very much enjoy this dish and understand it to be an infinitely variable down-home food that is open enough in format to be played upon with innumerable seasonings and additions, kind of an edible canvas that can be very simply painted upon or artfully elevated to a thing of sophisticated beauty.
In January, I tried the version of shrimp and grits at Sepia, and if I had thought for one second that this was as good as it got, I’d never try the dish again:

What kind of turned me off about Sepia’s version was that the grits were so watery, which I understand to be one approach to the carbo-component of this dish. Aaron Deal at Custom House Tavern told me that he grew up with a “thin” layer of grits underneath his shrimp, so I’m not saying this approach is inauthentic, but I don’t like it nearly as much as more full-bodied takes on the grit. I guess I also like a little more (butter, cheese, whatever) mixed into the grit for more flavor and weight. The shrimp (which were of sustainable Laughing Bird stock) were inoffensive but not as flavorful as I might have liked. There just was not much going on in this dish, though there was a touch of heat which I did expect and which I was amused to find absent in other renditions.
Kith & Kin’s version of shrimp and grits was so far beyond Sepia’s there was almost no comparison. The grits had more grit, more body and texture, and the shrimp just seemed to be of a higher quality, their flavor punching through. The onion greens and thin collard threads on top were a good touch (
and reminded me of The Wife’s version, with more rustic greens, still my favorite for gustatory/political reasons ), and they provided a textural contrast and slight acidity and bitterness that set off the sweetness of the shrimp, really good. Added bonus: slightly smoky flavor, which was unpredictable and complimentary.

Dinner last Sunday at North Pond revealed what is currently my favorite restaurant version of this dish:

The shrimps, cooked in crustacean butter, were beautifully rich, powerfully balanced by the sweet-sour citrus and crisp sprouts (a weird addition, but it worked). The grain underneath is almost black “forbidden rice grits,” which has kind of a lush, globular mouthfeel. The almonds and glazed celery were fun, adding crunch. Of all the versions of shrimp and grits I’ve had recently (and as I mentioned I’ve only had them recently), this was by far the most beautiful looking rendition, the most adventurous, inventive, complex and delicious, and a perfect embodiment of how a simple, traditional recipe can be enhanced through kitchen art and still retain a clear connection to the simpler versions of the dish that contain little more than the shrimp and the grit.
There are many more version of this dish I now must try.
Sepia, 123 N. Jefferson, 312.441.1920
Kith & Kin, 1118 S. Webster, 773.472.7070
North Pond, 2610 North Cannon Drive, 773.477.5845
"Don't you ever underestimate the power of a female." Bootsy Collins