A small sign, framed like a family photograph and discretely displayed behind the host station, earned a check in the positive column for BrickTop’s before a single word was spoken or morsel of food tasted. An illustration of a cell phone encircled in red, with a slash through the middle—the universal code for “No”—tells visitors to West End Avenue’s newest restaurant what should be obvious: a dining room filled with folks gathering to share a meal and conversation is not the place to conduct loud, one-sided dialogues with your attorney, banker, broker, plastic surgeon, real estate agent, decorator, producer, hair stylist, physician, manager, trainer, client, tennis partner, golf pro, publicist, nanny, child, spouse or therapist. BrickTop’s should be commended for taking a stand against the ill-mannered behavior sadly common in eateries; a similar ban has been in effect for some time in upscale restaurants in more populous and cosmopolitan cities.
BrickTop’s name probably requires a frame of reference—certainly to post-baby boomers. Born in Alderson, W.Va., in 1894, Ada Beatrice Queen Victoria Louise Smith—known as Bricktop for her flaming red hair—fled small-town life for Harlem as soon as she was old enough and began singing and dancing in clubs and saloons. She met Cole Porter during one of her engagements and mesmerized him with her skill at dancing the Charleston and her famous shapely legs. Porter took her to Venice, where she entertained at his private parties. In 1926, she opened Chez Bricktop on Rue Pigalle in Paris, where she established a legendary reputation as a charismatic hostess, befriending the Duke and Duchess of Windsor and F. Scott Fitzgerald, mentoring Josephine Baker, Mabel Mercer and Duke Ellington, and once kicking John Steinbeck out for “ungentlemanly behavior.” (He sought forgiveness by sending her a taxi full of roses.)
It’s hard to imagine ungentlemanly behavior at BrickTop’s, which leans more toward Southern country club than Parisian chic in style and ambience. The restaurant abounds in warm hospitality and decorum, reflective of owner Joe Ledbetter, a Nashville native known as “JoBo” among his hometown crowd. Ledbetter’s personal uniform of creased khakis, button-down shirt, blue blazer, striped tie, pocket kerchief and fine leather loafers is also popular among his male clientele; the ladies are equally reserved. Guests—and guests of JoBo they are—who turn right into the bar, just inside the front door, will bypass the cell phone sign and the policy as well. The squared horseshoe bar, topped with mirrors angled down on guests’ heads, has already lured a slew of regulars for solo dining, some of whom pass the time waiting for their salad or burger by chatting on their phones. A stack of daily papers fans across the end of the bar for those who prefer to catch up on current events or
The bar—smoke-free like the rest of the restaurant and patio—is a pleasant place to meet friends for a drink or a meal. The decor features brick-hued leather, rich maple, warm lighting, tall vases filled with whole fruit or palm fronds, and whimsical paintings of playful monkeys, which are replayed throughout the clubby main dining room.
Ledbetter doesn’t stand at the door to greet guests; he leaves that to a friendly staff of attractive young women who apparently stepped out of an ad for Talbot’s. But if he is on site—as he has been on all of my visits—he will eventually make his way to your table to say hello.
Early dispatches from field correspondents were less than glowing, particularly with regard to service, but the staff that remains is now on top of its game. A lunch companion on one visit was a ravenous expectant mother whose midday drive down congested West End Avenue was fueled by a craving for deviled eggs, a side item that is already a calling card for BrickTop’s. When the server approached our table, Mommy Nearly practically shrieked, “I need a deviled egg, STAT!” The server turned on her heel, sped to the open kitchen and had an egg on our table before I had the menu open.
Bless Joe Ledbetter’s heart: the menu is yet another nod to civility, with block type large enough to make reading glasses superfluous for all but the most visually impaired or short-armed. Its content is equally simple and straightforward: American bistro with uptown style and upscale accoutrements. A stack of wood piled up against the rear wall of the building fuels the wood-burning rotisserie—where the juicy chickens are hatched—and a wood-fired grill, which handles much of the entrées.
The latter is key to the artichoke starter. The prickly treat is halved, oiled, cooked on the grill and presented, nicely charred, with ramekins of drawn butter and remoulade. Also of note is a classic shrimp cocktail, five large crustaceans steamed pretty pink and perched atop crushed ice, and the beef carpaccio—very rare shaved slices of tenderloin, fanned on a plate and topped with Reggiano curls and a tangle of peppery arugula, all lightly dressed with olive oil and citrus.
Flatbread is an ancient execution of flour, water and salt, but BrickTop’s versions attract new fans to the crackly crust, delivered on triangular pewter trays. Of the three available, the barbecue chicken is reportedly the most popular, but our panel preferred the seared beef tenderloin with dollops of mashed potato, sautéed red onion and tangy blue cheese. Experience has taught me to order the flatbreads cooked extra crisp and not to dally; as they cool, the crust tends to droop.
The BrickTop’s wedge salad trades the typical iceberg for the more buttery Boston bibb, an admirable improvement and a perfect vehicle for blue cheese vinaigrette and crumbles of sugar-cured bacon.
A kosher hot dog tops the sandwich board and should not be overlooked as diners skim down to the blue cheese burger, French dip and grilled fish and rotisserie chicken sandwiches. Here, the foot-long ballpark staple receives royal treatment, tucked into a poppy seed bun and sided with onion, sauerkraut, homemade relish, chopped tomatoes, cole slaw, a deviled egg and a pile of fries, well-worth the $8 tag.
Ten main courses cover the bases on a fairly predictably playing field—grilled salmon, rotisserie chicken, barbecue ribs, prime rib, New York strip and filet mignon. With just over two months of practice under their belts, the culinary team is now executing the game plan with confidence and finesse. One serving of cold mashed potatoes was the sole error over four visits. Meanwhile, the biggest disappointment came at the tail end of Vanderbilt parents’ weekend, when the crush depleted the entire stock of addictive shoestring fries.
The West End BrickTop’s is the second location, preceded by a store in Naples, Fla., which opened a month earlier. The BrickTop’s team boasts a roster of professionals including CEO Ledbetter, COO Tom Brunnberg, R&D guru Bob Pappan and polished GM Adam Strecker. They’re all seasoned vets, founders and/or former members of a successful national chain of restaurants that got its start at this very address 30 years ago: Houston’s. The original was a Nashville tradition as dear to locals as other recently departed icons like Becker’s Bakery and Vandyland, and when its closing was announced two years ago, a daylong wake was staged in the bar. Houston’s inspired a loyalty that overcame the reality of the situation, which was that in the past few years—at least since Ledbetter and crew divested themselves—it was tired, a bit shabby and frequently disappointing. When Ledbetter signed a new lease on that corner, it was not with the intent of repeating himself, as he made perfectly clear. “When we opened Houston’s, we wanted to appeal to a larger audience than the fern bar singles scene that Friday’s was serving really well. We wanted to attract business, families, old and young. We wanted to offer good food and good service—and do it consistently. That was the Houston’s trademark, and to some degree that will be BrickTop’s. But I want to be perfectly clear—we are not repeating Houston’s. That’s why we tore down the building and started from scratch. We wanted to start over, start something new.”
BrickTop’s is not reinventing the wheel, or breaking culinary ground, but it is doing exactly what this team set out to do: create an independently owned restaurant with a personality and comfort zone that beats the chain gang at its own game. That’s called winning.
BrickTop’s is open 11 a.m. to 10 p.m. Sunday through Thursday and 11 a.m. to 11 p.m. on Friday and Saturday.
