Soul Survivor

Kansas City's long-ignored downtown has been getting a lot of ink these days, thanks to the sound bites issued by our two mouthy mayoral candidates. But no one seems to address the fact that the area once known as "downtown" -- particularly the neighborhoods on the east side of Main -- has been neglected for so long, there's not much resembling a "town" there anymore.

If you walk east on the stretch of 18th Street from the corner of Troost to the northeast corner of the Paseo, you'll see what might pass for an industrial park in the remote corner of any suburb: a handful of ugly, modern buildings (including the mammoth Kansas City Transportation Authority offices) that resemble warehouses, a couple of parking lots, some vacant lots. In the past two decades, only one restaurant has opened in a neighborhood that once had dozens of them -- the elegantly appointed Peach Tree Restaurant, which James and Vera Willis launched in a brand-new building in the Historic Jazz District last December. To call the Willises "urban pioneers" would be an understatement.

In 1927, that same stretch of 18th Street, from Troost to the Paseo, was packed with the amenities of a vibrant neighborhood: two candy stores, three billiard parlors, seven grocery stores, eight barbershops and shoe shops, clothing stores, a theater, several drugstores, and nearly a dozen independently owned restaurants, including the Samuel Adams Restaurant and Ching Fong Young's Chinese Café.

By 1962, many of the neighborhood buildings were razed and the lots left vacant, but a couple of grocery stores remained, as well as three barbershops, a half-dozen taverns and eight small restaurants, such as Lucille's Dinette and the Shanghai Café. A place called the Rose Room Restaurant once stood on the corner where the apartment building and retail space now houses the Peach Tree Restaurant. But that was before Kansas City's frenzied expansion southward drained the life force from the inner city. There was still energy in downtown Kansas City -- on both the east and west sides -- in those days: movie palaces, restaurants, department stores, nightclubs. The exciting part of any town, as Petula Clark sang in her 1964 hit, was still "Downtown."

In an ideal world, it would take imaginative entrepreneurs like James and Vera Willis -- and not an expensive new public arena -- to start the ripple of change that ultimately lures suburban-weary diners back to the city. Yet the Willises have done just that, opening a place that does for soul food exactly what the glamorous American Restaurant does for eclectic American regional cuisine.

In her book The Soul of Southern Cooking, Kathy Starr calls soul food "generous and earthy, like the people who created it. I'm not talking about small slivers of skinned chicken breasts surrounded by miniature carrots and radishes cut like roses. I'm talking about something to eat!"

At the Peach Tree Restaurant, the food is indeed generous and earthy. I'd also call it robust, hearty and delicious. But the atmosphere is refined: tables draped in white linen, neatly folded coral napkins that complement the coppery tones of the upholstery, elegant light fixtures and, at the center of the dining room, a gleaming baby grand piano.

"It's comfortable and beautiful," said my friend Gail, twisting around in her chair to look around the room. Typical midtowners who rarely venture out of their own familiar neighborhood, Gail and her husband, Howard, had never even heard of the first Willis restaurant -- the still popular but less formal Peach Tree Buffet over on Eastwood Trafficway.

"Are you sure there's a restaurant near 18th and Vine?" Howard had asked. He didn't really believe me until we walked in and were escorted to a table. Their two kids loved the place immediately, especially when two baskets of freshly baked breads arrived: wedges of crumbly buttermilk cornbread, moist cornbread muffins baked with pieces of chopped sweet potato, and yeasty dinner rolls. Howard was surprised that the place doesn't serve alcohol (and has no plans to do so) and ordered a glass of lemonade that he insisted tasted like "sweet-and-sour mix." Iced tea can be ordered either sweetened (and it's sugary, baby) or plain, and there are two "mocktails" -- a Bellini or a Mimosa -- made with nonalcoholic sparkling wine.

Sweet drinks and breads complement the fried dishes on the menu, but a little more tartness or spiciness to the entrées would be an asset. Even the most fiery item, "Jazzy Chicken Wings," is splashed in a hot sauce tempered with sugary glaze. But they are fabulous, heaped onto a massive white plate as part of the Down Home Basket alongside a collection of deep-fried shrimp, mushrooms, green tomatoes and okra in a cornmeal-batter coating, enough to feed at least four ravenous people. They were served with a creamy dressing that we were told was blue cheese but tasted like bottled ranch.

Dinner entrées are served with a choice of two of the restaurant's seventeen side dishes, which range from a fluffy ball of potent sage-flavored cornbread dressing to creamy macaroni and cheese, and from luscious, long-simmered collard greens to a baked potato (seriously overcooked on one visit). The pan-fried chicken was disappointing, the breast and legs neither as crispy nor as juicy as the superior bird served at the Willises' buffet restaurant. Ditto for the slightly dry baked chicken, though it looked gorgeous under that translucent amber crust.