Normally I shy away from telling people that I’m a foodie, as the word carries a weight that my shoulders are unable to bear. The word conjures an idea that I’m trying every newfangled eatery, and my gastronomic vernacular is reduced to the last names of chefs and the obscure dishes they create. Truth be told, I don’t care about famous chefs, their books and television shows. I can do without the obscene dinner waits and the foraged plates. My affection for food goes beyond the glamour of it, but to ways in which a meal cultivates a community or creates a memory. Mine is a passion that seeks out the small, but tasty, joints, and places where I have to don finery.
After randomly reading a special on Gilt City (of all places!), I decided to check out Sticky’s Finger Joint, and believe me when I say it’s the real deal. On my deathbed, I want to be fork-fed macaroni and cheese, chicken fingers, kale and a slice of blueberry pie. My wants are simple, but the food has to be first rate. Normally, chicken fingers tend to be dry, over-fried, and greasy, but the goods at Sticky’s Fingers are the real deal. Tender breast meat, a well-seasoned crust, and a nice juxtaposition of texture and flavor. I didn’t go in for the sauces, as I tend to believe that good fingers don’t need accoutrements.
My one gripe lies with the truffle fries, which were severely over-salted. Bonus points for the fresh herbs and perfect fry texture, but I had to actually toss the fries as I couldn’t bear the salt.
Sticky’s is non-descript, far from fancy, but the fingers are absolutely worth the visit!