By: Nick Roumel  Current Magazine January 2006

Chef Chris' passion for blues 'n' barbeque has solid American roots-his mother’s kitchen. Growing up in Livonia, Chris remembers mom as a “great” cook, but more importantly he recalls her enthusiasm.  Every family meal was an occasion. Eggs Benedict for breakfast, standing rib roasts for dinner and plenty of successful experiments that gave Chef Chris his present sense of culinary adventure.

Always accompanying mom was her beloved record player-spinning blues, jazz, and crooners like Frank Sinatra. Chris’ favorite was Count Basie’s “Basie Jam” as he learned early on to savor the magical combination of good food and music.

Today Chris Sirvinskis has mastered the balancing act-serving as head chef and blues front man at the Northfield Roadhouse. He formerly worked at a top notch restaurant in Columbus Ohio that was once a stopover for top jazz musicians. When the restaurant closed, Chris moved south where he had a stint at Walt Disney World of Florida. In 1992 he returned to Michigan and became the executive chef at the Old Woodward Grill in Birmingham, where he began to infuse his creations with southern influences.

Still, Chris was bored. While his friends were getting married and settling down, Chris turned to music. Soon he became good enough that his co-workers -hearing him sing in the kitchen-urged him to answer an ad for a blues singer. A week later Chef Chris was on stage-learning the lyrics as he went along.

Like a “dog getting his first taste of blood,” Chris was hooked. He taught himself harmonica, played with several bands and eventually formed his own band “Nairobi Trio” which in 2002 was good enough to win the prestigious 18^th annual International Blues Challenge in Memphis Tenn. Chris toured the south with his band for a few years. He loved the outdoor blues festivals, with their rib cook-offs and pig roasts, and decided that the blues ‘n’ barbecue was a “match made in heaven.”  (Chris’ hit song “Crawfish Gumbo” goes a step further – not only combing food and music, but offering a dead-on commentary on the similarities between eating and sex.)

Returning to Michigan in 2004, Chris stopped in at the Northfield Roadhouse’s former incarnation, Dewey’s Roadhouse, for a gig.  They were doing barbecue, and he was intrigued.  “Not many places were doing American roots music with barbecue as a cuisine.”  Serious talks ensued, and the present owners built a new kitchen from scratch, offering Chris the job as executive Chef. 

Chris got creative – just like his momma taught him.  He took Southern classics and put his own stamp on them – like the gumbo that dispenses with the traditional roux, relying on okra and gumbo file to thicken the texture.  The result is a soup so hearty and flavorful that I could almost be satisfied with just the broth – but I also love the chicken, shrimp and andouille sausage.

Chris’ fabulous jambalaya is essentially a different riff over the same ingredients.  The sautéing accentuates the sweetness of the onions and peppers, and the “dirty” rice takes on the texture of a risotto with a Cajun flavor.  Chris calls the jambalaya his personal favorite.

The barbecue ribs are renowned for their abundance of meat and choice of three sauces – Texas hot, Memphis mild and Michigan sweet.  The Po’ Boy sandwiches use a softer baguette than traditional to emphasize the crunchier texture of the filling – whether it be shrimp, catfish, chicken, turkey or beef – spiked with Pico de Gallo and roadhouse dressing.

Everything is made from scratch with the freshest ingredients.  The roadhouse dressing is hot and creamy – made from Gorgonzola, roasted onions and garlic, fresh basil, buttermilk, hot sauce and lemon juice.  The mixture is pureed and then thickened with sour cream, mayo and more Cajun spices.  It’s versatile enough for the fried catfish, as well as a perfect complement to the creative salads, which combine exotic greens (spinach, frisee) with crunch (pecans, croutons), fresh veggies and a wide range of fruit (clementines, bing cherries, blueberries).

On the night I was there, the kitchen was a little slow, so Chris was able to spend time with the customers – chatting with me – and play a few sets.  We heard some deadpan Christmas carols and a lot of laughs.  The Northfield Roadhouse is like family, where the waitresses call you “hon,” where the décor is familiar and unpretentious, and where you’re just as likely to see the occasional biker as an Ann Arbor townie (the Roadhouse is five easy minutes from downtown).

Chef Chris is finally in his element.  He’s done a lot of traveling and searching to discover that his roots were with him all along.  Music and home cooking – jut like his momma taught him.