Falling Far From the Tree

Peaches 393 Lewis Ave. (at Macdonough St.), Brooklyn, 718-942-4162

I hate to say it, but Peaches is the pits. Opened last month by Craig Samuel and Ben Grossman, the restaurateurs behind Fort Greene’s divine Smoke Joint and its offshoot, Little Piggy Market, Peaches aims to bring some of the homegrown gourmet charm of the duo’s earlier restaurants to an underserved pocket of Bedford-Stuyvesant. Despite Samuel’s presence in the kitchen, things are not going as planned.

Stuffed into a shabby-chic space on Lewis Avenue in the gorgeous Stuyvesant Heights neighborhood, the restaurant looks like a newly minted homeowner’s wet dream; who wouldn’t want a charming brunch spot around the corner from his new brownstone? And for longtime residents, options beyond the delis on Stuyvesant Avenue are surely welcomed. But despite the crowds the restaurant is drawing—a recent evening saw it packed until almost 10 p.m.—there was nothing especially keen about Peaches.

Things started off well enough: We looked over the menu, which changes daily, and our bellies grumbled at the sound of starters like watermelon salad with pickled ginger or a plate of heirloom tomatoes with fresh peaches, greens and ricotta cheese. We chose the latter, but, save for the restaurant’s namesake fruit, it was a disappointment. The kitchen was stingy with the cheese, a bland variety not at all like the Salvatore Brooklyn ricotta that many local restaurants rely on, and none of the elements came together with any great effect. Faced with a pile of soft, sweet foods, we wanted something salty to cut through the flavors, perhaps a bolder cheese or splash of vinegar, but were unfortunately out of luck.

Coming from owners who so brilliantly flavor the dishes at their other restaurants, the lack of seasoning throughout a meal at Peaches is shocking; a server told us that he knew that Samuel and Grossman owned other restaurants, and he assumed they employed similar methods of cooking the meat at each one, but wasn’t really sure. A catfish sandwich was a slice of yellow cheese away from being a Filet-O-Fish. Perched on a grocery-store bun and served with a runny tartar sauce and ketchup, its only saving grace was the pile of “barbecued” French fries and some bread-and-butter pickle chips. And a side of corn “Maque Choux,” a traditional dish in Louisiana composed of white beans and corn, was so bland that an actual shoe might have been zestier. Salt and pepper, meanwhile, were nowhere to be found.

Even if mighty prawns had replaced the skimpy shrimp in the Shrimp Creole, served atop cheddar grits that lacked the taste of any cheese at all, the dish would have failed. A splash of red Creole sauce looked promising, but still the dish came up without much flavor—the taste was more beige than Bayou.

I’ve had the ribs at Smoke Joint a number of times. They’re always moist, tangy and delicious. I often think of ordering another plate to go. The baby back ribs at Peaches made an effort—the meat was tasty, if a bit dry—but lacked the smoky, succulent, extra-time-on-the-treadmill taste to be found in Fort Greene. They were accompanied by vinegary slaw, some ho-hum cornbread muffins (certainly not Smoke Joint’s slab) and a tiny tub of barbecue sauce—which would have been better used while the meat was on the grill.

When the woman dining next to us scowled at her ice cream sandwich, we decided to skip dessert.

There are certainly lovely things about the restaurant. The staff, with the exception of the waiter who wasn’t sure how the meat was cooked, was friendly. My date called one waitress, “a ray of sunshine.” The décor and music are inviting, and the neighborhood feel of the place makes you want to linger over a weekend brunch, or make it your go-to spot for a Friday-night burger.

Indeed, putting saltshakers on the table could solve half of the eatery’s problems.

There’s something here, though. Successful restaurant owners, added to an up-and-coming neighborhood, should equal success. Perhaps these are growing pains—Little Piggy Market certainly grew in fits and starts. Knowing the owners’ work, one is reminded of the restaurant’s changing menu and most importantly it’s name. After all, if Peaches didn’t seem quite ready, perhaps give a few more weeks it will become perfectly ripe.