Nokomis

When Harry met Steven

Harry’s Food and Cocktails
500 Washington Ave. S., Minneapolis
612-344-7000

Last month, before time and space ran out, we were talking about the redux of Café Levain. But, truth to tell, tears were dripping on my keyboard as I recalled the also-good old days of its life as Restaurant Levain, when chef Steven Brown was the wizard in that open kitchen.

I can dry my eyes because I’ve found him. Voila: He’s now performing his high-energy ballet of whisks and spoons and cleavers in another demo kitchen as head chef of the newly-launched Harry’s Food and Cocktails.

The backstory: Harry’s, located in the recently shuttered Nochee space on Washington Avenue, is named for the owner’s grandpa, a longtime cook—we didn’t call ’em chefs back then—at a downtown St. Paul hotel. His name is affixed above that open kitchen for posterity—well, at least until the next owner; if you get the idea that this is a volatile industry, you’re absolutely right—but maybe they’ve made a mistake. The moniker that truly belongs there is Steven’s. He’s the genius behind the menu and, chances are, Harry would have loved it.

Don’t fear for your palate or your pocketbook; this isn’t warmed over, eyes-on-the-critics Restaurant Levain fare; this is home cooking—just like a diner, except a lot more chairs (and cleaner ones). But it’s home cooking honed for modern palates (skip the grease) and subtly taken up a notch.

Instead of formal lists of appetizers, entrees and such, the menu is portioned into categories such as sandwiches, salads, seafood, meat, poultry, greens and so on. So, because it doesn’t say “starters” in boldface, you’re free to troll for something hidden among those departments that tickles your fancy, and dig in.
I chose the grilled asparagus ($9), listed among the greens, and bingo! One of the best dishes I’ve ever sunk my teeth into, turns out.

A Lincoln Log-like stack of spears came dressed with shavings of nutty pecorino cheese, truffle oil and a barely-poached, lasciviously runny egg. (Remember tales of the old Shinder’s, where guys “read magazines” in private booths? This is that kind of dish.)

My pal chose the cole slaw ($4), the only boring dish of the night. Zipless. Well, why didn’t he go for the Boys of Summer Salad, I’d like to know? We’re talking double-smoked bacon, Big Boy tomatoes fresh off the vine and—ahem—iceberg lettuce in a snappy peppercorn dressing ($11). Or creamed sweet corn, who doesn’t like that? Or the salad of house-cured salmon, goat cheese and green peppers, lounging on frilly frisee leaves brightened with cilantro and lemon? And, mea culpa, why didn’t we summon the $4 plate of French breakfast radishes, served with local Hope Creamery butter and sea salt, to munch on as we scanned the wine list? First time east of California and west of Paris I’ve seen those tasty babies on a menu.

Next, bring on the meat; that’s what we were in the mood for. I chose the good old pot roast, resting as it should upon a fine-diced bed of carrots, celery and onions ($19). That’s the only way to cook the dish where I grew up, but here it’s served with a hotcha drizzle of horseradish cream that never would have found its way into my German grandma’s kitchen. Mashed potatoes, too, you betcha.

Well, the meat was a little dry. (Steve had gone home for the evening and they were ready to close up shop.) So was my friend’s muscular pork chop, a meaty cut crusted with Middle-Eastern kibbe spices, served with giant fresh fava beans, spicy shoots of arugula, a sprinkle of Parmesan and a shot of lemon to pull the dish together ($19). Next time? The duck breast with pickled cherries ($20), the salmon, served with summertime’s cucumbers in buttermilk, Israeli couscous (that’s the big kind) and red onions ($18), or maybe just a simple burger, such as the Lonely Repairman (topped with Maytag blue cheese, heh-heh).

Every night there’s a hot plate (think blue plate) special, such as Monday’s meatloaf, Friday’s Wisconsin fish fry, or Saturday’s “Supperclub prime rib.” Best deal yet: the Sunday Supper, including a classic martini, Green Goddess salad with scallions, bacon and croutons, and a grilled pork chop with pickled onions and mashed new potatoes, all yours for a mere $18.

Just here for bar snacks? Harry’s does that, too—a cheese platter; a sausage plate with house-made pickles; grilled mussels; braised pork belly; or simply shoestring fries ($5-$10 range).

The room is—well, let’s not beat around the bush—kind of, um, plain. Simply a lineup of booths and tables, far removed from the nightclub sizzle of its Nochee days. But the sidewalk patio remains. And who cares, anyway? I came here to eat!