r/fresno • u/CivicCryptid • 2h ago
Food/Drink An Ode to Chef Paul's Cafe
If there is a part of downtown Fresno you have never had a reason to visit, Chef Paul’s Cafe is the reason. It sits in Chinatown, a neighborhood many people have a habit of avoiding, and it is the kind of restaurant that makes that habit look like a mistake. I have been several times, and every visit has asked nothing of me except an appetite.
Start with the ground it stands on. Fresno was founded in 1872 as a railroad town, and its Chinese residents were pushed to the west side of the tracks, where they built a district of shops, hotels, and restaurants. When the county seat moved here in 1874, Chinese residents made up 200 of the town’s 600 people. Later when Highway 99 cut through along D Street in the 1950's, and residents were displaced and historic buildings were demolished under the guise of "Urban Renewal" in the 1960's, what followed was decades of neglect. This was a place people went to on purpose long before it became a place people forgot to go.
Chef Paul Pearson owns the restaurant and cooks the food, and the story of how it opened is a good one if you listen to him tell it. According to legend, he started in catering and opened the restaurant after someone bet him $1,000 that he couldn’t keep a restaurant afloat in Chinatown. He is still here, which settles the bet in my book. When the Fresno Bee asked readers to name their favorite Black-owned places to eat and drink for Black History Month, Chef Paul’s took 80 percent of the vote, and, as the paper noted it made BuzzFeed’s national list of 30 must-try Black-owned restaurants. Votes and lists are nice, but the room full of regulars you often is better.
Everything on the table was good, and the fried chicken is the reason to come. The skin is perfectly seasoned all the way through, not just a simple dusting on the surface, and it crunches with exactly the resistance you want before giving way to meat that is still juicy. According to Chef Paul, he brines the birds for 24 hours in salt, sugar, and peppercorns, and that the recipe originated from his wife, Pinky. That patience shows, the chicken does not need a sauce and does not ask for one, though no one would begrudge you a dab of hot sauce.
I recently ate at Gus’ Fried Chicken in New Orleans, one of that city’s most popular fried chicken restaurants, and while Gus’ is very good, it makes this next bit a little awkward. The two styles differ a little, and Chef Paul’s is better: the crunch lands in the right spot, and the spice mix is genuinely exceptional. It is also better than my grandmother’s, but don’t tell anyone I said this. She has long passed away, and I am somewhat relieved she isn’t around to hear me say it, because she would have likely considered it blasphemy.
The restaurant looks like an old greasy spoon, though I can’t say what business it was before. An abandoned ice cream cooler sits just inside the door, retired from ice cream and reassigned to displaying Chef Paul’s signs. The lunch counter is a ruin of its former self, half the stools stripped down to their bases and a few very old ones left standing. The restaurant is long and narrow, with a few tables along the right side and the kitchen right behind the counter in full view of the dining room. It is laid back, and the crowd is regulars.
My wife and I both ordered the fried chicken with mac and cheese, and between us we added the chili beans and the yams. Each side made a strong case for itself, and I never found a weak spot anywhere on the table. The mac and cheese is cheesy and gooey, without being too overwhelming, with just a slight bit of burnishing on the top from the broiler. And where to start with the yams, perfectly tender and covered in an absolutely delightful sweet sauce with just a touch of cinnamon. While every side is truly an exceptional dish on its own, the chicken is still the star of the meal.
The fried chicken plate is four pieces of chicken, two sides, and cornbread for $24. Some people will call that pricey, but then the plate arrives, and I think they might reconsider that statement. Between the two of us that was eight pieces of chicken, four sides, and two orders of cornbread, and every bit of it was cooked with the same care as the chicken that earned the trip. Crunch like that, seasoning like that, and sides that each made their own case, all for $24 a head? That's a bargain by any measure I know.
Chinatown is not where many people think to go for dinner, and that stops mattering the moment the plate lands in front of you. It is a destination, and Chef Paul’s is one of the best restaurants in the city. I have been several times and will be back several more, so go see for yourself, order the fried chicken, and let the crunch settle the argument.
