Whiskey Kitchen

Located at 201 Martin Street near Nash Square in Raleigh, Whiskey Kitchen specializes in whiskeys, cocktails, and Southern cuisine. Patio seating and private/event dining are available. The restaurant is open from 11 a.m. to 2 a.m. Tuesday through Sunday and 5 p.m. to 2 a.m. on Monday.

Coming from Greensboro, I was skeptical that anything could match 913 Whiskey Bar without being priced into the stratosphere. Raleigh’s Whiskey Kitchen managed to match its strengths – a deep drinks menu, a more compact food menu full of delicious-sounding Southern bites, friendly service, and affordable pricing – while providing considerably more space. Even if you are not a whiskey drinker, you can find plenty to like here.

Whiskey Kitchen is a casual, seat-yourself spot, with an inviting high-meets-low motif. Think brick-and-ductwork industrial with big garage doors but also a striking mural behind a sleek, long bar. The combination proved both distinctive and inviting.

Though Whiskey Kitchen offers food all day, certain items are only available during certain times. Lunch specials run from 11-3 while dinner entrees are offered from 5-11. My wife and I came in toward the end of the lunch shift and found several possibilities from among the admittedly limited (about six items) lunch menu. I opted for a smoked brisket melt, she took on the fried chicken sandwich, and we both did side salads instead of potato wedges to assuage our guilt.

Our food came out relatively quickly, and it did not disappoint. The brisket was neither too dry nor too greasy, the sweet sauce balanced the smoky flavor, and the crispy bread held the sandwich together well. The chicken had a buttermilk and sweet tea batter, a quirky combination that was thankfully not overwhelming, and the meat was moist and delicious. Considering the quality of the food and the downtown Raleigh location, the $10 apiece charged for each sandwich+side was confusingly affordable (the chicken sandwich goes up to a less impressive $13 if ordered past lunch hours).

All told, we had a great lunch at the Whiskey Kitchen, but we also visited during an off-hour (2:30 p.m. on a Saturday). During peak times, I can imagine the acoustics being somewhat unforgiving. Time it right, however, and you won’t regret stopping by.

8.5/10

The Nix

After his mother Fay abandoned the family when he was a boy, Samuel Anderson grew up to become a failed writer, bored English professor, and hopeless gaming addict. However, when Fay becomes a brief cause celebre after throwing rocks at a controversial presidential candidate, Samuel is encouraged/threatened by his media-savvy publisher to get her story. Though reluctant at first to reconnect, Samuel eventually begins to search for answers, a journey that sees him research Fay’s midwestern roots, unlikely late-1960s student activism, and the titular Nix, a supposed family curse that followed Fay’s father from Norway.

The Nix may be Hill’s debut novel, but at times it reads like an accomplished author’s magnum opus. It satirically savages everything from grandstanding reactionary politicians to socially inept gamers to self-absorbed hippies to entitled millennial college students, often with hilarious results, and the stylistic shifts that accommodate these different perspectives are spot-on. However, the book does this without relying on mere caricature. Hill’s characters are often more complex than they seem, and even the most antagonistic or vile among them (such as a student who resolves to get Samuel fired after he busts her for plagiarism or a cop-turned-judge with a deep-seated grudge) are given some sympathetic edges.

That depth of characterization also extends to the Andersons, whose mysteries – Why did Fay leave? Why is Samuel such a jaded washout? How did the family curse come about? – are revealed gradually. Hill uses digression frequently and often to good effect (witness the woes of Samuel’s gamer friend Pwnage), but between that and the book’s frequent hops across place (Iowa to Chicago to New York) and time (the present to the 1960s to the early 2000s), The Nix is guaranteed to try some readers’ patience. For those who stick with it until the end, there is a definite payoff in seeing how the pieces come together.

If there is one thing that does mark The Nix as a first novel, it is a certain amount of unevenness. At times, it feels excessive. Hill often posses Fay’s (and Samuel’s) trials and tribulations against historical backdrops, and both the violence of the 1968 Democratic National Convention riots and cameos from the likes of Walter Cronkite and Allen Ginsberg felt gratuitous. On the opposite end of the spectrum, parts of the ending came across as too neatly packaged.

Sharply witty yet achingly sincere, The Nix is an auspicious debut and an engrossing family saga that is well worth the time invested in it.

8.75/10

Superhero Chronicles: The Secret History of Wonder Woman and The Caped Crusade

Though they may have reached the point of oversaturation, the cultural prominence of comic book superheroes makes it difficult to dismiss them as mindless juvenilia. They are often, rightly, recognized as symbolically representing the best and worst of the world as its creators see it, from Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster’s original immigrant success story Superman to Frank Miller’s quasi-fascist take on Batman to Deadpool’s self-referential postmodern absurdity. For characters who have been around for decades, there are years of influences – both on and of – to unpack. The Secret History of Wonder Woman by Jill Lepore and The Caped Crusade: Batman and the Rise of Nerd Culture by Glen Weldon give this treatment to two of D.C.’s most iconic long-runners, with very different results.

Lepore’s detailed and meticulously researched text is less a history of Wonder Woman and more a history of her creators: Professor William Moulton Marston, his wife Elizabeth “Sadie” Holloway Marston, and his former student-turned-lover Olive Byrne. Marston, a Harvard-educated psychology professor who created a version of the lie detector, emerges as a fascinatingly complex and contradictory figure: a committed and outspoken feminist (he fully intended for Wonder Woman to serve as feminist propaganda, Lepore notes) who overshadowed his female collaborators, a literal truth-seeker who perpetrated fraud, and a highly credentialed man of letters who dove headfirst into some questionable ventures. Said collaborators Holloway (a lawyer and psychologist in her own right) and Byrne are implied to have been hugely influential in Wonder Woman’s creation (Byrne, for instance, wore bracelets that WW fans would find familiar), but Lepore shies away from giving them the lion’s share of the credit. And while Lepore does explore the cultural context that birthed Wonder Woman (namely, first-wave feminism), Diana Prince herself is treated almost like a minor character in her own supposed history. Only the last third of the book directly discusses Wonder Woman in comics, and her post-Marston years are treated briefly and disdainfully (somewhat understandable given Gardner Fox’s and Robert Kanigher’s treatment of the character). While The Secret History of Wonder Woman offers a detailed look at a mad genius, it does not fully do its supposed subject justice.

Weldon’s take on Batman’s history is a leaner, snarkier, less scholarly (though still credibly researched) affair that hews more closely to its proclaimed purpose. Weldon traces The Caped Crusader’s origins (confirming the open secret that credit-hogging artist Bob Kane stole recognition from co-creator/writer Bill Finger) and various iterations over the years, from noirish gun-wielding (!) vigilante to science fiction superhero to camp icon to grim, hypercompetent foe of criminals everywhere. Along the way, he notes how reactions to these differing takes resulted in a rabid and impossible to please fanbase split along tribal lines. To some, a dark and brooding Batman is the only true Batman and Adam West/Joel Schumacher silliness is an abomination; but to others (such as Weldon himself), the camp version is the more interesting take. Just as Lepore played up Wonder Woman’s feminist bonafides, Weldon places a lot of emphasis on Batman’s status as a gay icon (ironic, given his denunciation of comic book critic Frederick Wertham’s homophobic fearmongering). However, Weldon also reminds readers that Batman is an inkblot: fans see in The Dark Knight what they want to see. This view is affirmed by showing how different filmmakers, writers, and artists have all approached the character over the years. Overall, the book is a balanced blend of history, behind-the-scenes trivia, and cultural criticism.

The Secret History of Wonder Woman: 7.5/10

The Caped Crusade: 8/10

Ant-Man and the Wasp

After “borrowing” a size-changing suit to help an on-the-run Captain America, Scott Lang (Paul Rudd), a former thief/divorced dad who dabbles in heroics as Ant-Man, is confined to house arrest. He is whisked away from under the noses of the FBI by the suit’s inventor, Hank Pym (Michael Douglas), and Pym’s daughter/Scott’s ex-girlfriend, Hope van Dyne (Evangeline Lilly). They believe that Hope’s presumed-dead mother Janet (Michelle Pfeiffer) may still be alive, and they aim to construct a machine to retrieve her from the quantum realm. This plan requires them to deal with unscrupulous black market technology dealer Sonny Burch (Walton Goggins), and it also puts them in the crosshairs of Ghost (Hannah John-Kamen), a molecularly unstable masked assassin who keeps phasing in and out of tangibility. Running low on options, Pym is forced to turn to an old friend-turned-rival (Laurence Fishburne) who may still harbor a grudge.

Positioned as a light-hearted breather after the hype, grandeur, and gravitas of Avengers: Infinity War, Ant-Man and the Wasp has “minor film” written all over it. After all, it’s a (mostly) earthbound tale devoid of megalomaniacal threats to the cosmos, and its lead characters, while likable, don’t rate a ton of name recognition. Given these relatively low expectations, Ant-Man and the Wasp is better than it needs to be even if it never fully escapes its “minor” status.

As with the first Ant-Man film, there is an emphasis on fun. Returning director Peyton Reed has crafted a fluid film full of both visual humor (Pym’s case of Hot Wheels cars becomes a portable garage thanks to his size-changing technology) and competently choreographed action. The script (courtesy of Rudd, Chris McKenna, and others) is high on humor, mocking Lang’s loser status and leaving plenty of room for banter. One running joke sees Lang’s ex-con pals argue with Burch’s syringe-wielding associate over whether the contents of said syringe constitute a truth serum.

As with the first film, Ant-Man and the Wasp boasts both winning performances and paper-thin characterization. Rudd continues to project affability as a devoted father and quasi-inept hero, and Douglas’s Pym remains prickly. Michael Pena is back too as Lang’s motor-mouthed business partner Luis, a character that walks a thin line between hilarious scene-stealer and annoying and insensitive caricature. Among the new additions, Kamen is a definite upgrade from the previous film’s derivative Yellowjacket. Ghost is a more complex character with more sympathetic motivations. Fishburne and the underrated Pfeiffer are welcome presences, but their roles barely transcend cameos.

Despite being given more prominent billing and more screen time, however, Lilly’s character is arguably mishandled. We get to see more of the Wasp in action (where her breathless combat competence contrasts, rather heavy-handedly, with Lang’s bumbling), but outside of the suit, Hope misses her mother, is vaguely miffed at Scott, and…that’s about it. Rather than actually develop a female superhero, this film seems content to simply give the appearance of having done so.

Though it does offer a few hints as to Marvel’s post-Infinity Wars plans, Ant-Man and the Wasp is best viewed as a self-contained experience. Through that lens, it is a perfect summer popcorn flick: humorous, heartfelt, and forgivably lightweight.

7.75/10