It was 10 years ago almost to the day that I first discovered Phil Davis and his trademark chicken and waffles. I had been on the food beat for all of one month when I paid a visit to Phil the Fire, then a “pop-up” Sunday brunch that took place in a rented church basement. I still can recall the thrill of it all: the unconventional setting, the festive atmosphere, the peculiar but delicious food. The review practically wrote itself.
A decade later, pop-up restaurants are ubiquitous, diners can order chicken and waffles at IHOP, and Phil the Fire is in a former suburban Houlihan’s. How times have changed.
My first visit to the new Phil the Fire started off on a sour note. Arriving without a reservation, we were told by the hostess that it would be about a 10-minute wait. (This, despite plenty of obviously unoccupied tables.) Would we like to wait in the bar, she wondered? No, we would not, and just like that a table opened up before us. It all felt like a cheap ploy to get us to buy a round of drinks.
Unlike Phil’s former teeming, bustling, and fun Shaker Square restaurant — the 40-seater he opened on the heels of his successful church brunches — the new locale seats 280 in chain restaurant-style comfort. Multiple rooms, including a large bar outfitted with flat-screens, means that no single space ever feels particularly busy or festive.
The good news is that the chicken and waffles haven’t changed a bit. Crunchy, salty, and chin-drippingly juicy fried chicken married with fluffy, spice-scented waffles and doused in sweet maple syrup and tangy hot sauce creates a symphony of taste and texture. Diners can choose a leg and thigh ($14), a breast and wing ($17), or all four ($20).
The entrée menu is pretty slim, containing just the chicken and waffles, fried or grilled fish, and rotisserie chicken. On the day we were there, the kitchen ran out of rotisserie chicken at lunchtime and didn’t bother to make any for dinner service.
Side dishes are included only with the rotisserie chicken and seafood dinners. That means chicken and waffle fans are stuck footing the bill for overpriced sides like wonderful collard greens, floppy sweet potato fries, fluffy cheese grits, and firm, nutty black-eyed peas. Mac and cheese, Phil’s number-one seller, was all gone before we even showed up.
Our fried green tomatoes went largely untouched, owing to a greasy exterior and mushy middle. Fried catfish nuggets, in contrast, arrived delightfully crisp and grease-free. Soul Rolls — tasty fried snacks filled with beans, cheese, and collards — are like Low Country egg rolls.
At $19.95, Sunday brunch is an all-you-can-eat affair, with chafing dishes filled with scrambled eggs, hash browns without a hint of “brown,” two kinds of grits, overly saucy mac and cheese, collards, beans, and an oft-abandoned turkey carving station. The other side of the buffet boasts fried chicken, fried catfish, and made-to-order waffles — or so I thought, until the man behind the griddles directed me to a chafing pan containing pre-made waffles.
A pastry table is set up in another room. It’s a self-serve affair with peach cobbler, red velvet cake, and a stack of incongruous plastic plates. The dining room tables lacked salt and pepper shakers and hot sauce — three essentials that left us searching (and waiting) for a resolution.
While friendly and well-meaning, service could use some polish. Few staffers seemed to experience the same level of urgency as we did — in terms of refilling water glasses, replacing silverware that was removed along with dirty buffet plates, and delivering and retrieving the check.
I found it odd — troubling, really — that Phil Davis, a man blessed with a rare second chance at his restaurant dream, was conspicuously absent during both visits. It was only in the parking lot on my way out one night that I saw him. He may have been in his office, but where he really needs to be is in the dining room, flashing that million-dollar smile and doing everything he can do to make things fabulous.
This article appears in Oct 26 – Nov 1, 2011.
My experience there is almost exactly as the review described. I had to wait 15 minutes for the waitress to bring me my draft beer and a water. And yes… no condiments on the table. My chicken and waffles were also sitting and got quite cold by the time they brought me one little cup of hot sauce. Terrible service. I would not go back.
Totally agree with this review. My experience was the same….waiting for drinks, no condiments on the table, bad service in general. Wake up Phil! Light some “fire” under your staff and make things right. Make your presence known and manage your staff. Or else kiss this second chance good-bye.
…On March 14 and March 29, 2003, Ben & Jerry’s co-founder Jerry Greenfield, Oberlin College class of ‘73, executed two $20,000 promissory notes to Phil B. Davis, Phil the Fire’s flamboyant proprietor, at prime plus 200 basis points, collateralized by an equity stake in Phil the Fire. Mr. Davis, a former deodorant salesman, failed to make a single payment on the bargain-rate loans. On October 31, 2003, the well-heeled ice cream czar and the wannabe waffle king consummated a Halloween wing-and-a-prayer loan consolidation through a $100,000 line of credit issued by Shore Bank. Mr. Davis subsequently defaulted on every facet of the original loans.
According to Cuyahoga County Court records, Phil the Fire’s tax returns, prepared by leading public accounting firm SS & G, show a loss of nearly $50,000 in 2002. In an amended July 19, 2004, brief attached to the extensive litigation spawned by Phil the Fire’s demise, Phil B. Davis declares on line #93, “Defendant never claimed that the operations of Phil the Fire on Shaker Square had yielded a profit after its first year of operations.” The Ohio Department of Taxation affixed eight liens totaling $69,555.63 to Phil the Fire’s Shaker Square carcass. The Ohio Bureau of Workers Compensation weighed in with unpaid claims of $7,265.37.
Mr. Davis’ Shaker Square operation inherited the retail storefront formerly occupied by Hungarian strudel purveyor Lucy’s Sweet Surrender, a 49-year Buckeye neighborhood fixture employing a bevy of elderly, veteran strudel kneaders. On assuming the balance of Lucy’s ten-year lease, Mr. Davis seized $75,000 in specialized bakery equipment belonging to Lucy’s proprietor Michael Feigenbaum. Lucy’s never fully recovered and, according to Mr. Feigenbaum’s Hotel Bruce web posting, is “living on fumes.”
On Sunday, March 26, 2006, the Cleveland Plain Dealer ran a front-page expose detailing the implosion of both the Shaker Square and downtown Phil the Fire and Waterhouse Restaurants, established with the financial backing of fugitive Atlanta hedge fund manager Kirk Wright. I, not any member of this body [Oberlin City Council], was the original source for that story.
Wanted on state and federal mail and securities fraud warrants for allegedly absconding with $185 million in investor assets, Wright targeted novice minority investors, particularly professional athletes with significant discretionary income. Equipped, according to the New York Post, with “a materialistic streak that would make Madonna blush,” Wright’s illicitly acquired auto collection included a Bentley, a Jaguar, an Aston Martin, a BMW and a Lamborghini. A March 9, 2006, Wall Street Journal article reported Mr. Wright’s financial seductions occurred in “suites he rented at Atlanta Falcon football games.” Since February 2002, SCA’s financial patron, Home Depot co-founder Arthur Blank, has owned the Atlanta Falcons. According to Phil B. Davis’ Cuyahoga County court filings, Davis “met twice with Wright in Plaintiff’s Atlanta office.”
In a short, tumultuous five-month life-span, Phil the Fire’s illiquid downtown Cleveland gravy train racked up well in excess of a million dollars in unpaid debts and forfeitures — including over $15,000 in Ohio workers compensation liens — was on a C.O.D. basis with vendors and, according to Phil Davis’ July 28, 2004, court filings, had a chronic negative cash flow. Channel 19 reporter Scott Taylor ran an investigative piece broadcast March 14, 2004, on Phil the Fire Gateway’s imminent meltdown. On March 23, 2004, the IRS slapped a $226,259 tax lien on Phil the Fire for failure to pay federal withholding taxes. On April 15, 2004, Phil the Fire employees picketed outside the swank downtown eatery to protest their untendered paychecks. Although Phil Davis’ initial capital contribution to the Gateway Phil the Fire restaurant was a nominal $100, as set forth in the operating agreement, Mr. Davis retained a 60% ownership stake. On March 31, 2004, as the downtown Phil the Fire hemorrhaged cash and the chickens came home to roost, Mr. Davis borrowed $20,000, via a promissory note, from Phil the Fire’s talented chef, Alexander Daniels. Despite receiving $50,000 from Mr. Wright on April 26, 2004, in an impetuous, global out-of-court settlement, Mr. Davis defaulted on the bulk ($15,000) of Mr. Daniels’ unsecured loan and a contracted $11,000 culinary consultant’s fee…
bit.ly/jrg4o0