Reds On The River

North of Grand Rapids lies the city of Rockford, a quaint burg strewn with tourist shops and restaurants along the Rogue River, including Reds on the River. It is a warm, sunny early evening as we make the short drive and spend some time peeking into storefronts before eventually wandering back to the restaurant. As we enter, we wonder if Reds will live up to its reputation or will our adventure turn sour...

He Fed:
I've been to Reds twice before and both times something's felt just "off". I'm hoping for a better experience this time, but our first mistake is choosing to sit in the air-conditioned interior rather than on the deck (it is too warm to sit outside and enjoy a hot meal, we believe). The hostess is clearly overwhelmed and we do that awkward dance at her stand while other patrons filter in behind us. Our seater makes no small talk as she guides us through the mostly-empty restaurant to seat us at a small two-top crammed against the window-wall looking onto the deck, right next to a table with kids. Our second mistake of the evening is not asking to be reseated somewhere else. We spend uncomfortable moments studiously ignoring the coughing child at the next table and feeling like fish on display next to the window.

Our server arrives to tell us the specials. She seems friendly, but we quickly find out she is just slightly "off": mixing up which beers are on draught; forgetting to check back after food is delivered; and promising to dry our table but never following through. Our busboy is inattentive as well; I have to remind him to clear dishes from our table. As I peer around the room, I am struck by the odd placement of tables which forces food-runners to weave unnaturally around other tables to properly deliver plates. And it is strange to see so many servers and busboys hovering at the perimeter of the restaurant, as if they are uncertain what to do or where to go. The food-runners glance repeatedly, almost nervously, at their order slips as they shuttle dinners. I feel vaguely uneasy but hope the food will quell my disquiet.

To start, I order the Chicken Wings tossed in a fresh Jamaican jerk seasoning with a lime cilantro and sour cream sauce. I envision crispy drumsticks crusted with caribbean herbs; instead, I receive a generous bowl of wings coated with green slime. I read the menu again and it is clear the cilantro lime should be in the sour cream, not coating the meat! No matter; I am a brave contender and these wings are going down. I take a bite and relish the perfectly cooked chicken, but am suddenly hit over the head with a lime sledgehammer. Wham! No sublety at all, just a pounding blow to the noggin' with that slimy coating. I try to muddle through but end up leaving three wings, even with Juliet's help. I know what you're thinking, "Jeremy never leaves anything on his plate!" I wash the lime away with my Short's Pandemonium Pale Ale (which our server refers to as "Patio Pale").

I am beefed out after a week filled with burgers at The Butler in Saugutuck and amazing brisket at Six.One.Six, so I already know what I'm getting after researching the menu online: Cajun Mac 'N Cheese! Cooked with Spanish chorizo, andouille sausage and onion tossed in a creamy gruyere and parmesan cheese sauce, this dish is evidently a steal at $17, right? Wrong. The shallow bowl arrives and our chins drop. Really? The wings had been generous, but something as simple as mac-n-cheese is being served as if it were gold? Tentatively, I take my first bite...smoky, creamy, cheesy...and then I bite into what can only be classified as akin to a bacon bit as fake-tasting as Bac~Os. After a few more forkfuls, I am overwhelmed by all the flavors and inauthenticity. I never thought it possible to mess up mac-n-cheese! Like the wings, I feel the heavy-handed thump of the sledgehammer. Unhappily, I push away the rest of the noodles and finish my wine. At least the $6 Alfred Roca Pinot Noir is good!

Both of us decline dessert, not wanting to risk any further injury. (In fact, we opt to drive back to Grand Rapids to enjoy amazing dessert at La Dolce Vita, but that's a story for another time.) It is worth noting that I have had satisfactory meals at Reds in the past, even if a little "off". I have to remind myself that we are not truly reviewing the restaurants on HeFedSheFed.com, but rather sharing this particular experience. Nevertheless, based on this adventure's unsatisfactory conclusion, I will not be rushing back to Reds on the River any time soon.

1.5 out of 5 mezzalunas

She Fed:
The weather is stunningly gorgeous with bright blue skies speckled with fluffy clouds. If only it were a tad less humid, I'd be up for sitting on Red's deck, which is bustling with activity. People in shorts and ball caps are bellying up to the bar or relaxing at tables. (I chide myself for wearing all black and dressing for air conditioning.) I notice several of the tables have white wines chilling on ice nearby. A few even have bubbly...how fun!

Such a stark contrast to the interior of the restaurant. It's 6p on a Saturday night and the place feels very much like a Bill Knapp's. Before you start to think anyone who dines out at that early on a Saturday might as well be at Bill Knapp's, I should explain. Our plan is to score an early table and have a fabulous leisurely dinner. I've been gone all week for work travel and am gearing up for another nine day junket. We need a nice dinner out tonight. I am thinking we'll be out til well past dark. However, my first thought upon entering and being seated at a tiny table smack dab next to the only three other occupied tables in the place is to turn tail and leave. Why is it that restaurants cram everyone right next to each other when the place is clearly not busy?

As luck would have it, the family at the table next to us has a child with either tuberculosis, whooping cough, or a serious smoking problem. Little Timmy hacks and snorts his way through his meal. Or should I say OUR MEAL? Without once covering his mouth, by the way. (Hello, Mom? Is it too much to ask that you teach your child some manners please?) Again I am reminded of Bill Knapp's because it sounds like a 90 year old man is sitting to my right. I understand Snuffleupagus's little sinus issue is out of Red's control, but why on earth would they put a single patron near this table?

After a week on the road, I am in dire need of a healthful meal. I order a half size portion of their pear and gorgonzola salad and the green peppercorn dusted salmon. The salad is lovely with mixed greens, whole toasted walnuts, hunks of mouth-puckering gorgonzola and sauteed glazed pears. (I do wish they had explained the pears are not fresh, but are cooked and coated in a sugary glaze. They are absolutely delish, but it would have been nice to know upfront.)

The service is extremely slow. The bus staff lacks confidence; they are awkward and uncoordinated. (Maybe students working their first summer job?) It takes far too long for the drink order to arrive, no one checks to see how our first course is going, our waitress keeps forgetting to bring a towel to wipe down our table which is coated in condensation from the water glasses, and she essentially forgets to take our entree order until we prompt her. She is extremely nice and I feel a bit guilty for dinging her for poor service because she is so darn friendly, but she seems frazzled and the place isn't even a quarter full yet. I would hate to be at her table at 8p tonight!

The salmon is cooked to perfection and sits atop a bright bed of cooked chard. The potato gratin is overcooked and the cheese has separated into clots of dairy and pools of oil. There is also a generous portion of finely diced seeded tomatoes dressed in a vinagrette with basil overtones. Having just attended two knife skills courses, I truly appreciate the time that went into these 1/4 inch tomato cubes. And for someone who has despised raw tomatoes her entire life, I find them to be delicious.

If I were rating Red's on the salad, salmon, and knife skills of the sous chef, I would give them a higher rating. However, we rate on the entire experience and there was much to be desired. I might consider going back to Red's but only if we were sitting on the deck. Then again, there are so many wonderful eateries out there, why would I risk mediocrity again? Even Bill Knapp's could get au gratin potatoes right. (I mean this not as snarky slam to Red's, but more as homage to all the amazing luncheons I had with my grandparents over the years.)

2 out of 5 mezzalunas

© 2010 HeFedSheFed.com

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Cottage Bar

(Grand Rapids, MI) Every so often, the desire for delicately prepared international cuisine subsides and we get the urge to grunge it up, class it down, and dig into a meal affectionately coined "bar food". There is no shortage of such eateries around these parts (and we're well acquainted with most of them), so we whittle down the short list to The Cottage Bar and Restaurant. Overcast skies loom above as we drive downtown, wondering if we will experience what has been called "the best burger in Grand Rapids"...

He Fed:
I've only been to the Cottage Bar a few times in the past, and it has been a while since I've been back. To my recollection, it is like most other bars, filled with smoke and grease and regret from years gone by. Has it changed, I wonder? Now that smokers are no longer allowed to light up inside, will the environment be more suitable for non-smoking patrons? We open the door and enter a somewhat gloomy and narrow bar area, with booths to one side and tall chairs bellied up on the other. There is an outside patio built into the alley between Cottage Bar and One Trick Pony, but it is too cloudy with the threat of imminent rain. Towards the front of the building is a separate dining room, but the entry is clogged with employees deep in conversation. We choose a booth in the far back, where most other lunchtime diners are seated.

The lack of smoke makes it immediately seem different, though there are undercurrents of cigarettes reeking from the ceiling and walls, like poltergeists hiding in the ether. I still detect the tang of fry grease, but that's why we're here, right? Our waitress brings us two menus, takes our drink order, and departs before we can order our appetizer. She is efficient, perhaps too much so!

When she returns, we put in an order of the Fried Green Beans. Not five minutes go by and they arrive, piping hot. Wow, that was fast! I am beginning to understand that the kitchen and staff are quick. It's not as though they are trying to get rid of us, but their efficiency seems counter-intuitive for a bar. Wouldn't they want you to linger a bit longer, maybe order another beer? The green beans are pretty good, especially when dipped in the Wasabi Ranch dressing, but I'm undecided whether these have been prepared on-premises or if they're bulk food simply dropped into the fryer. The onion batter is almost too consistent, too homogenous. Although they are decent enough, I can't help but feel like I've seen dishes like this at TGI Friday's. However, they do go nicely with my Bell's Oberon.

I am torn between the famous Cottage Burger or the Back Alley Burger, so we decide to order both and split them. Again, they are out in no time, open-faced and perfectly cooked (medium-rare). We divvy up the halves, then dig in. I try the Cottage Burger first, served on a dark rye bun, slathered with green olives, bacon, hickory mayonnaise, Swiss and American cheese, lettuce and tomato. The best thing about this burger is the bun, by far. I am a sucker for rye and this is dark, sweet, and fresh. The consistency of the meat and the toppings are decent. Good, but not great. I add some barbecue sauce, which gives it some much-needed zing.

As for the Back Alley Burger, it is practically tasteless. On a whole grain bun with ham, cheddar, green olives, mayo, sour cream, green onions, lettuce, and tomato, I expected the burger to jump off the plate. I chew into it, expecting something to happen with each bite, but coming back empty. The sour cream is a nice touch, giving it the illusion of being light and fluffy, but it isn't enough to save the burger.

There is only one mainstay dessert on the menu: carrot cake. Thanks to the 1/3 pound burger, I have just enough room. In seconds flat, the waitress brings the plate over with clean forks and extra napkins. She's good. The cake is clearly from a nearby bakery or perhaps even from a grocery store; I would be shocked if it had actually been prepared in the kitchen. There's even a little frosting carrot on top of the slice! Nevertheless, it's tough to screw up carrot cake and this is no exception. We share the dessert; it is moist, sweet, and almost feels like health food after the deep-fried app and beef.

Does Cottage Bar have the best burger in Grand Rapids? Not in my book. Given a choice, I would say O'Toole's holds that distinction, with Ottawa Tavern not far behind. Still, Cottage Bar is a comfortable, smoke-free establishment with decent service and good (but not great) food. It fits the bill if you're in the neighborhood or feel like a blast from the past.

3 out of 5 mezzalunas

She Fed:
We easily find parking just around the corner only to discover three open parking spots right in front of the restaurant. For a split second I wonder if the restaurant is open; the website said they opened at 11 am on Saturdays, but the lack of cars and the unoccupied patio worry me. We grab the giant meat cleaver door handle and walk in...to nearly pitch black darkness. The Cottage Bar is very dimly lit. I can barely make out the sign across the room that reads "Please Seat Yourself" and we debate between sitting in the bar, near the back, out on the patio, or off to the side of the bar. We agree to grab a booth in the back, but realize there are no windows and it's is even darker than the bar.

Our waitress is extremely efficient, not overly-friendly, but not rude. She drops off menus and takes our drink orders. I can't read the whiteboard two feet from my face, so I order a Diet Coke with lime wedges. Once my eyes adjust, I begin reading the menu and see they have several summer specials in addition to the regular menu. The brat burger grabs my attention, as does the cherry burger—which is 89% beef and 11% Michigan cherries—tuna burger, and salmon burger. Each comes with a unique sauce and/or fixing and a unique bun (rye, whole wheat, sourdough, etc). I decide to get the Back Alley Burger. Jeremy orders the original Cottage Burger so we decide to go halfsies. We also put in an order of the fried green beans with wasabi ranch dressing.

The green beans arrive at lightning speed (less than three minutes I would venture) but are ho-hum at best. They look like they came out of a large bag from the deep freeze and the dressing is a bit too mild for my taste. I want my nose to taste the wasabi!

The burgers are beautiful, with blood trickling onto the buns to let you know the cook damn well knows what medium-rare is. We cut 'em in half for sharing. I start with Jeremy's Cottage Burger. The rye bun holds tomato (which I remove...yucko), lettuce, green olives, swiss and cheddar cheeses, bacon, hickory mayo, and a perfectly cooked patty. I love everything about this burger except the cheddar cheese, which keeps sticking to my teeth. This usually happens with processed cheese "food" so the cheddar is suspect, at least to me.

I move on to my Back Alley burger, which is very disappointing after the Cottage Burger. It's also cooked perfectly and has all the right ingredients: lettuce, green olives, ham slices, cheddar cheese, sour cream, and green onions. But the whole wheat bun is dry, flavorless, and actually masks the flavor of the burger and the fixings. I cannot taste the olives, ham, sour cream, or green onions, and there is no cheese on this burger though it's listed on the menu. Once I remove the bun, I can taste everything, but with the bun it's all lost. I've had more exciting flavors on a sandwich from Subway.

We decide to share a slice of the carrot cake, which boasts crushed pineapple and walnuts in its ingredients. The cake is very uniform; you cannot discern pineapple, walnuts, or even carrots in the cake. The frosting is fine, but is decorated with those little bright orange and green frosting carrots. I always think back to my mother's carrot cake with tidbits of carrots, nuts, and pineapple in the batter, and a fluffy cream cheese frosting that was rich yet light and ethereal. She didn't need to provide a visual cue of horrid little fake carrots to tell you what the cake was. I just hate those little frosting carrots and they taint my opinion of all carrot cakes, including this one.

I hate to say this about a beloved Grand Rapids institution, but The Cottage Bar was a let down. I've had better burgers at Graydon's Crossing, O'Tooles, and the now-defunct Stockbridge Pub. I'm still wondering how this place wins the title of "Best Burger in GR" year after year. The service and atmosphere are nothing special. The tables and menus are greasy, which I'm willing to overlook when the food is oustanding. You expect the best burger joint in town to be a little "dive-like" right? But for me, the experience was very ho-hum and not worth a repeat visit.

2 out of 5 mezzalunas

© 2010 HeFedSheFed.com

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Noto's

(Grand Rapids, MI) Once upon a time, there was a pretty decent Italian restaurant in Cascade called Tuscan Express. Although we had eaten there only a few times, we found their preparation authentic and the experience positive. Unfortunately, just over a year ago, they were forced to shut down due to unpaid taxes. A couple weeks ago we got word that a new restaurant called The Euro Bistro opened in the space, serving French food. We checked out their website, made reservations, then meet Jo and Ivan for dinner on Saturday night.

Although they had informed us their liquor license would be in place by the time Saturday rolled around, we find out the hard way that The Euro Bistro has not yet secured the right to serve their extensive wine list. Strike one. When we arrive, the hostess leads us to a tight table for four despite there being two more spacious empty tables nearby. Strike two. Our table just happens to be next to a large family with small children, even though there is a quiet, private unoccupied table in the back room. Strike three. We close our menus and vacate the premises. Hopefully they'll get their act together when (and if) we decide to spend our money there.

In the meantime, we have to find another place to eat for dinner. After some quick discussion, we decide on nearby Noto's, although our past experiences haven't been all that memorable. The sky opens up and starts sprinkling cold rain. Is this a harbinger of a bad meal to come?

He Fed:
I find Noto's a weird combination of old-school restaurant and banquet center. On one end of the building, a dining room filled with standard-issue wooden tables and chairs; on the other, a series of convention-like rooms that often host wedding receptions. We are greeted warmly by the hostess and she shows us quickly to a table that is not too near other diners. The light is dim, the conversation subdued, and the decor is low-key, simple. Our water glasses are filled promptly while we peruse the menu and wine list. Wendy, our server, tells us about the specials. She is efficient and friendly, making me feel like we're in good hands for the evening.

To begin, we order the antipasti platter and a bottle of 2006 Dolcetto d'Alba. The wine is dry, fruity but not sweet...decent table wine. At first, I am unexcited by the antipasti platter (it's difficult, in my opinion, to match the quality of Bistro Bella Vita's antipasti). After digging through the sheer variety of items, however, I realize I'd jumped the gun. Proscuitto, salami, and cured sausage match nicely with big chunks of smooth blue cheese, shavings of puckery parmesan, giant salty green olives, marinated peppers, and artichoke hearts.

Although the risotto special (curried chicken and peas) sounds good, I decide to try the featured chef entree: two medium-rare beef tournedos, topped with creamy gorgonzola, and a fig reduction sauce. Fig and steak? Yes! The sweet fig pairs heavenly with the unseasoned, earthly beef while the gorgonzola spread spikes each bite with the sharp tang of mold-tinged cheese. Our second bottle of wine, a 2003 Barolo, is much more complex and fun to drink, evoking shades of pinot noir but with backbone enough to stand up to the steak and cheese.

Jo opts for a salad and Ivan gets the seafood linguine. Juliet orders the hazelnut-crusted walleye. The delivery of our courses is leisurely; our entire meal takes nearly two and a half hours...not unusual for a lunch in Rome, but a dinner in Grand Rapids doesn't usually take quite this long. Luckily, we are having a good time talking and taking the pace slow.

At the end, Wendy presents us with eight dessert selections, making three trips to the center table where all the dessert "models" are displayed. I feel bad for her, particularly since three-quarters of our table is too full for anything more. Curiously, I am still a bit hungry! I order the cannoli, which turns out to be nearly tasteless. Disappointing, perhaps, but I'm still buzzing from the success of the fig/beef combo to really care that much.

Finally it is time to go. A gentleman meets us at the front door to explain the earlier sprinkles have erupted into steady downpour, and offers us a loaner umbrella to our car. It is the final nice touch on an evening of great service at a restaurant where we'd expected much less. While some of the dishes weren't a rousing success, there were enough memorable moments to put Noto's back on my radar when we're considering local Italian cuisine.

3.5 out of 5 mezzalunas

She Fed:
We’re thrilled to be out with friends, but Jo isn’t feeling very well and Ivan isn’t a huge fan of Noto’s so I figure we are in for a mediocre night at best. I don’t think they are as “wowed” as Jeremy and I are, but for the two of us the experience was an eye-opener.

We order the antipasti platter and it arrives with all the usual suspects—roasted red peppers, olives, meats, and cheeses—but there are a few standouts on the tray: veiny, hunky chunks of blue cheese (a few of them are bigger than the olives); spicy (paprika maybe?), well-marbled sausage that’s chewy and full of flavor; fresh baby artichoke hearts with tender stems still attached. I am momentarily transported to Rome where I devoured more artichokes than any human should readily admit. Molto bene!

Both Jo and I are freezing. The air conditioning is blowing on our table, but lessens a bit once our server turns it down. The service is very leisurely, and while it’s wonderful to be able to catch up with friends, there are times when it almost seems like our server might have forgotten us. She’s so sincere and helpful each time she stops, though, I can’t help but like her. In addition, she saves the day when we order a second bottle of wine and the restaurant is out. She brings us a substitute that we enjoy more than the original. Best of all, she charges us a comparable price even though the second bottle is listed on the menu at a much higher price. My mood lifts considerably.

The menu is pretty extensive and the wine list is literally hard to hold, it’s so massive (all Italian wines and it must weigh at least five pounds). I decide to forego pasta or meat, and settle on the hazelnut-crusted walleye, which comes with an asparagus medley, mashed potatoes, and a little “primi” of pasta. So much for a light dinner.

I could write about how perfectly the fish is cooked, or how the potatoes are decadently luscious while the veggies are crisp and clean...that the primi is just enough to give me a taste of pasta without filling me up. I could go on for pages about how good the food is.

At the end of the night, however, the level of service and attention to detail impresses me. When we walk in and ask if we can get a table for four without reservations, the hostess says, “Of course. Thank you for dining with us tonight. We appreciate you choosing us.” We receive a similar thank you as we leave. Here’s the kicker: when we head out the door, we discover rain is coming down in buckets. And our umbrella? In the car, naturally! Luckily for us, a Noto’s manager is stationed at the door handing out umbrellas. He gives one to Jeremy, who races for the car. When Jeremy pulls up, the manager walks me to our car keeping the umbrella on me the whole time; he’s getting rained on during all this, by the way. I hand him Jeremy’s borrowed umbrella, he bids us a good night and asks us to return. Now that’s extraordinary customer service you won’t find at any chain restaurant.

I intend to go back for more.

3.5 out of 5 mezzalunas

© 2010 HeFedSheFed.com

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Leftovers: California

For your viewing pleasure, here are a few odds-and-ends left over from our recent California trip. This is random footage, mixed in with some potential reviews that did not pan out, in the end. Enjoy!




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