In the confined world of jail, where time stretches and options dwindle, conversations often gravitate towards two essential subjects: time and food. With limited distractions and rumbling stomachs, inmates engage in passionate debates about culinary preferences, local hotspots, and the ultimate comfort foods.
Deep dish versus thin crust pizza? The city’s best Reuben sandwich? Who reigns supreme with a smoker in their backyard? And who can devour the most White Castles after… well, you get the picture.
These were the burning questions that fueled countless discussions during my seven-month stay at the Oakland County Jail’s East Annex cell block. For a white guy like myself, it presented an unexpected opportunity: an instant focus group of around 100 Black men, all ready to offer unfiltered opinions on the best eats in Detroit’s neighborhoods. While I pride myself on exploring diverse culinary corners of the city, these recommendations, born from genuine local knowledge, were invaluable.
Forget the narrative of Detroit as a “food desert” often peddled by outlets like The New York Times and condescending local pieces. The truth is, the 600,000+ residents of Detroit’s neighborhoods aren’t starving; they’re eating. And they don’t need to trek to trendy suburban spots to find a good meal.
The disconnect lies in the demographics. The New York Times‘ typical reader, often white, might not venture into Detroit’s predominantly Black neighborhoods. Segregation, unfortunately, still casts a long shadow. So, while you might struggle to find ramen, artisanal sliders, gastropubs, or $5 pour-over coffee in these areas, you will find food – and not just any food, but genuinely good food.
And when it comes to Southern cooking in Detroit’s northwest side, the consensus among the East Annex’s African-American population was resounding: Motor City Soul Food. The name was uttered without hesitation, as if questioning its supremacy would be absurd. It was that obvious.
Located on the northwest corner of Seven Mile and Meyers Road, Motor City Soul Food operates cafeteria-style behind the shield of bulletproof glass. Don’t expect a dine-in experience; everything is designed for carryout. The décor is minimal, functional, reminiscent of a DMV branch.
Image alt text: Patrons lining up at the counter of Motor City Soul Food, showcasing its cafeteria-style service and the bustling atmosphere.
But ambiance takes a backseat when you’re confronted with the extensive menu and mountains of steaming dishes. The sheer volume of food commands attention, making the 20-minute wait in line feel like a breeze.
Dinners come generously portioned with your choice of one or two sides and cornbread. The oxtail immediately caught my eye. I’d seen oxtail popping up on menus at upscale restaurants like Antietam, but felt hesitant to order it there. Firstly, tackling any kind of tail requires a certain culinary boldness. Secondly, experiencing a “hipster chef’s” interpretation didn’t seem like the authentic introduction I craved.
Motor City Soul Food, however, specializes in Mississippi-style oxtail. My order arrived piled high with about a dozen two-inch sections of bone, generously coated in tender, fatty, gelatinous meat remarkably similar to ribs. The gravy, a rich and flavorful bath for the oxtails, leaned towards the salty side, a common characteristic throughout their menu. Oxtail, undeniably delicious year-round, truly embodies comfort food, a dish I’ll eagerly seek out again when winter rolls in.
Image alt text: A plate of Motor City Soul Food’s oxtail, highlighting the rich gravy and tender, gelatinous meat.
The collard greens proved to be the perfect companion to the oxtail. Too many restaurants, in their attempt at “Southern-style” collard greens, overcook them into a mushy, flavorless mess. Motor City, thankfully, understands the delicate balance between tender and overcooked. While, like many of their dishes, salt is a prominent flavor, these greens avoided the typical addition of bacon or ham, allowing the pure collard flavor to shine.
While the oxtails were undeniably good, the mac and cheese stole the show. It’s a challenge to make bad mac and cheese – it’s essentially noodles and cheese – but achieving that transcendent, “gorge-until-you-regret-it” level is rare, especially north of the Mason-Dixon line. Motor City Soul Food has seemingly mastered this elusive art. Their noodles are enveloped in a creamy, subtly peppery cheese blend, almost a sauce in its richness, finished with a dusting of paprika.
Image alt text: A serving of Motor City Soul Food’s signature mac and cheese, showcasing its creamy texture and paprika dusting.
Black-eyed peas, often relegated to bland mush in less skilled hands, are treated with respect at Motor City. They achieve that perfect tenderness without crossing into mushiness. The potato salad is a familiar variation of the classic mayo-mustard-egg-paprika recipe. My dining companions, after a few bites, likened it to mashed-up deviled eggs. To me, that’s high praise, not criticism. Both sides were standout supporting players in the overall meal.
Motor City also possesses a mastery of frying, a welcome relief in a city where properly fried chicken often seems like a lost art. Too often, fried chicken in Detroit emerges as a greasy, heavy disappointment. We sampled both the catfish and the fried chicken. Again, Motor City doesn’t shy away from seasoning. The cornmeal batter, generously seasoned with salt and pepper, encased a thick, flaky catfish fillet. The batter’s crunch and the overall flavor profile set it apart. Similarly, the fried chicken batter boasted a unique, savory flavor, and crucially, was significantly less greasy than the Detroit norm.
Image alt text: A plate featuring Motor City Soul Food’s fried catfish and fried chicken, highlighting the crispy batter and golden-brown color.
The okra, however, proved to be a point of frustration. This dark green, seedy vegetable is a personal favorite side dish, and Motor City’s version certainly delivers on the signature peppery flavor. However, the overwhelming sliminess detracted from the taste. Okra can be prepared either slimy or fried. Many, inexplicably, prefer the former. The texture forced me to take small, hesitant bites, a slow, unsuccessful attempt to acclimate to the sliminess, much like wading into a cold lake.
Turkey wings, another soul food staple, are impressive at Motor City, both in size and flavor. They are slow-roasted with a simple seasoning blend and, predictably, plenty of salt, resulting in crispy skin. These wings are substantial, nearly baseball bat-sized, justifying their $15 price tag.
Paired with the turkey wings were candied yams, a dish I was trying for the first time. True to Motor City’s tendency to push flavors to the extreme, these yams were intensely sweet. “It’s like eating a yam-flavored Jolly Rancher,” one of my dining partners aptly observed. I personally enjoyed them, but the peach cobbler and green beans were the only items that didn’t quite measure up. Both tasted somewhat canned and simply weren’t worth precious stomach space when everything else was so exceptional.
It’s not just the incarcerated who are fans of Motor City Soul Food. The restaurant has earned national recognition, featured on Andrew Zimmern’s Travel Channel show, Bizarre Foods, and garnered numerous local accolades for its outstanding cooking.
George and Martha Clay opened the original Seven and Meyers location about 15 years ago, with a second location following in Oak Park at 10 Mile and Greenfield Road in 2013, driven by popular demand. Prices are on the higher side, with some entrees exceeding $16, but the Clays are undeniably generous with their portions. The only real downside is the parking situation at the Seven and Meyers location, a common concern voiced by Yelpers regarding street parking. My advice? If you’re truly apprehensive about walking the short distance from the street to the entrance, order a turkey wing to go. Its sheer size is intimidating enough.
Motor City Soul Food
Two Locations:
- Seven Mile: 18010 W 7 Mile Rd, Detroit, MI 48219
- Oak Park: 25850 Greenfield Rd, Oak Park, MI 48237
