Joe Maroon” class=”uk-display-block uk-position-relative uk-visible-toggle”>
Joe Maroon
At Rusted Crow on the Lake, waitstaff dress like Rosie the Riveter.
Consider movie trailers. Through a minute or two of loud and splashy, quick-cut editing, potential consumers are served up a tantalizing taste of something soon-to-be-released for public consumption. “Can’t wait to see it!” we tell ourselves, dazzled and drooling over what little we’ve glimpsed of the entire picture.
My Rusted Crow preview (in the Feb. 15 Chowhound column) treated readers to, essentially, the same thing. Impressed by a tour of its build-out, I needed more. Decked-out in décor one could concisely caricature as Thomas Edison on water skis, the place put out an intriguing Greenfield Village meets Kensington Beach party vibe.
Arriving early on a Saturday evening parched and famished after an unseasonably warm and sunny afternoon Tiger game (during Miggy’s swan song weekend), my dining partner and I were raring to order drinks and appetizers right away from our slightly sassy (loved it) server, Ashley. Part of a female front-of-house review dressed in Rosie the Riveter get-up, she kept pace in fine fashion through multiple course orders and Lord knows how many drink refill requests and menu questions. Ultimately, she won me over with humor she found in our back-and-forth exchanges; making us laugh while keeping us fed and watered.
With a vegetarian dinner guest in tow, Cheddar cheese curds ($11) and some garden greens seemed the way to go, getting things started. Feather-lightly battered and slightly toothsome, Crow’s curds were a nice-enough if otherwise fairly-nondescript nibble. Props to whoever didn’t hold back on the Sambal Oelek (aka chili paste) in the spicy aioli alongside, and compliments as well to the menu architect behind the Brussels Sprouts salad ($13); an abundantly shareable mountain of flash-fried main ingredient leaves and segments tossed with toasted almond slivers, shredded carrots, crudite-chunked (on purpose?) red onion, and gobs of gummy-good, dried Michigan cherries. When Ashley asked which dressing we wanted with it, I went wishy-washy, so she just hushed me and brought both. Between the white balsamic vinaigrette and an Asian-style Peanut “Butter” sauce, both complimented. I gravitated toward the latter, saving some to savor with my main course Ahi Tuna ($23).
Joe Maroon” class=”uk-display-block uk-position-relative uk-visible-toggle”>
Joe Maroon
Rusted Crow on the Lake puts out an intriguing Greenfield Village meets Kensington Beach party vibe.
During a short wait for entrées, I took another visual spin around Rusted Crow’s two main spaces. The bar bustled. No one performed on the Edison sound stage, but the night was young (live acts play on Fridays and Saturdays from 7-11 p.m.). An airplane already hung inverted in the air there at my first visit floated beside brassy jazz horns strung since. On the dining room side where we sat in a big, custom-upholstered booth, once again, a room-length tsunami mural (in homage to Japanese woodblock artist Hokusai’s “The Great Wave off Kanagawa”) carried my eye to another artsy signature here: an equally impressive painting of a vintage pin-up beauty carried to the clouds on the larger-than-life wings of the restaurant’s namesake. Who did Italian ownership here hire to do all this, descendants of Michaelangelo? It’s a pity almost that three big screen TVs are mounted between those beautifully-depicted, rolling waves. On the other hand, watching Crow’s crowd kicking it to a crystal-clear sound system and boomer playlist started my toes tapping while tamping down the din of crowd noise until the music goes live.
Dinner served, my dining partner dug into an Eastern Market pizza ($16); a veggie model built with shrooms, colorful bell peppers, black olives, and onions. Over several slices, he lauds a lush cheesiness that he and his healthy-eating wife try to avoid, before boxing some to take home to her.
“She won’t be able to resist,” he grins, assuaging his own guilt. Trying a square, I agree. The pie’s pretty tight. Crow’s doing deep dish right; from the blistered then pillowy top and interior, to browned and crisped, garlic butter bottom crust. From classics to more contemporary, there are seven options (14-inch Detroit deep dish, GF available).
Sadly, there’s no one waiting at home for me who could have tried the seared tuna I didn’t finish. Not that I would have bagged it up to satisfy another Ahi lover in the family mind you, but rather to bring back a sample for a second opinion. Though perfectly rare inside, my piece was strung through with connective tissue that turned taking bites into a chewy chore. And I’d be willing to polygraph that the accompanying mango slaw was mango-less. Looking for consolation in some side dishes (entrées come with a choice of two), onion rings were greaseless and crispy, while bacon-studded Mac and Cheese was more pasta in cream. A sucker for seafood, when — not if — I go back to Crow, I’ll give the sea scallops a whirl ($30), per Chef Joseph Queen’s recommendation. I was torn between those and the tuna before ordering. Damn.
One creamy hunk of cheesecake with caramel sauce ($5.50) made a sweet last impression. Now, I’m left deciding on last words most fitting for Rusted Crow at five months old. At the risk of mixing metaphors, this place is pretty as a peacock. Something about its Michigan steampunk factory and freshwater feel should really fly with folks looking for a break bread-make merry wow factor that’s already singular here in a design sense. At this point, perhaps, unlike the vibe, the vittles need to work a little harder to grab an adoring public’s attention. If Rusted Crow commits to that effort, this shiny new object should attract eating and drinking crowds constantly on the lookout for those rare birds in the restaurant business who feather their conceptual nests with the best of both.
Location Details
Subscribe to Metro Times newsletters.
Follow us: Google News | NewsBreak | Reddit | Instagram | Facebook | Twitter