quarters. Mr. Donahue's doesn't take reservations, but Little Miss Follow the Chef doesn't wait in lines; she will, however, pull a blue hair, which is precisely the recommended plan of action if you want to partake of this little nook. And you do, in fact, want to partake. Basically a store front, I would guess the whole dining area is probably less than 200 square feet. And like I stated above, maximum capacity is ten stomachs, so getting there for a five or five-thirty supper not only almost guarantees your seat, it guarantees that this succinct little gem might turn a few more tables, which is going to be crucial, conceivably, to keep it up and running.
Lilliputian as this space is, I saw pretty much all the Main options even if I didn't get to taste them. The Swedish meatballs smelled heavenly. A repeat visit might be elicited by them. Roast beef "Served Medium" looks rare to me, but is a significant piece of meat. The Rotisserie Chicken was so magnificently tender it barely held on to the bones that supported it, rich and juicy. Loved it with the Classic Gravy, but the Mushroom Marsala would be awesome with it as well... much better than with the Broiled Porgy,
which got really sogged out by the brothy sauce. Porgy isn't that sturdy to begin with, and the thin Marsala gave great flavor but basically dissolved it. A thicker sauce, like Spicy Avocado, might be of a more cooperative consistency. Regardless of what you order, though, don't skip the Jerk Mushrooms, tender buttons kissed with warming Jamaican spices- a little sweet, a little peppery, and a lot good. The vegetable medley tripped me up a bit, because on the website that very same day, it featured chard, brussels and squash, but in practice it was chard, asparagus and purple
carrots. With the brussels sprout carrot pulled out from under me, they set themselves up for disappointment, but these vegs still held a lot of appeal. Each uniquely seasoned, a bit pickly or a bit spicy, all justly salty and worked in great synergy with any of the Mains and their Sauces.
And don't you dare leave without dessert. While the root beer float is delightful in its nostalgia, it is the Banana Rum Pudding that Mr. Donahue would not let you escape without trying. Mr. Donahue, by the way, is the owner's grandfather, or was, rather. A New York city cop, Irish-born and married to Rose, whose namesake flowers adorn the restaurant. Maybe it was her recipe, or a family favorite, but in any case, a simple little retro dessert I would normally look over is almost baffling wonderful. The pudding itself is blissfully cool, dreamily creamy and profoundly fruity, better than any banana I've ever tasted. And the banana slices that flank the glass coupe are just as good, bruleed with brown sugar and capped with a fluffy spiral of freshly whipped cream. There is even a cherry on top, as if all of Mr. Donahue's itself wasn't already the cherry on top.