(Note: This is a long-ago post from a previous blog I shared with my husband. Since it’s food-related, I decided it should live here.)
I hate to inaugurate a blog with a rant, but this is something that’s been bugging me for awhile (enough to make me finally get off my lazy duff and write a blog entry), so I might as well get it out of my system. I suppose you could think of this as more of a “bemoaning”–and I promise, it’s not all negative.
Why do perfectly acceptable restaurants try to reach beyond themselves and become something they’re not, only to become something truly awful in the process? I’m thinking of Cady’s in Depot Town in Ypsilanti in particular. It used to be a good restaurant. I admit, my fondness for it was probably all out of proportion based on food quality. Maybe it was the little choco-mint sticks they gave out with your bill, or maybe it was just that it always seemed so much cozier, less hectic and cramped than most Ann Arbor restos. It was nothing fancy, but it seemed like the sort of place that could become a “regular thing”–a comfortable, neighborhood hang-out (nevermind that I didn’t really live in that neighborhood, per se). Then, a year or two ago, the owners apparently decided they wanted to make Cady’s another Common Grill. Don’t get me wrong–I love Common Grill. I wish I had the bucks to make that place my “regular thing” (I can’t tell you how many times I find myself thinking back fondly to the wonderfully smooth and custardy chocolate croissant bread pudding, with a ribbon of solid chocolate running right through it, that I had there the first time David and I went >sigh<). But, to paraphrase a well-worn bon-mot, I know Common Grill, and Cady’s is no Common Grill. For one thing, Common Grill has a real chef who has the chops to carry off the fancy stuff–who knows better than to leave the crabmeat in the shell if he’s going to douse the whole dish in sauce, and who knows better than to cook the fruit with the jello, and then dump the whole mess on top of pound cake to solidify (yuck–even I know better than that). I can’t help but think that the owners were hoping that if they pushed the newly added wine list hard enough, no one would notice that the food was bad. And, to add insult to injury, the prices shot through the roof. We haven’t been back since the whole ugly transformation, although from time to time I’m tempted to try Cady’s again, on the off chance the owners came to their senses and either reverted to their old style or at least found someone who was up to the task of cooking the menu they wanted to offer. But I just can’t see spending that kind of money on a meal that’s likely as not to be pretty awful, not when I can drive just a little further and be confident of a great meal.
But, thankfully, there are always other restaurants on the horizon. Rebecca’s in downtown Northville is another place that, even though I’ve only been there once so far, I think I could come to love, again all out of proportion to the quality of the food. Not that the food is bad, by any means, but the menu! I don’t think I’ve seen a menu with such a wide variety of offerings since the long-lamented Silverman’s went into decline and disappeared from the Ann Arbor food scene. I’ve got to get back there for breakfast, even though I suspect they’re probably jammed to the gills on weekend mornings–finally, a place with more than just the standard three types of omelet! (You try sticking to the South Beach diet for more than two years and see how bored you get of the inevitable choice between veggie, sausage and plain. Actually, I recently came across a very yummy recipe for zucchini omelets–but I digress.) And the serving staff, at least the ones I’ve come into contact with so far, are friendly and efficient, which is always a plus. Again, a very cozy little place, but not too little, and a far more authentic shit-on-the-walls sort of decor than you’ll find at Applebee’s/Ruby Tuesday’s/T.G.I. Friday’s and their ilk. Hm–I’m beginning to sense a trend here…
Then there’s Josephine Creperie and Bistro, on Nine Mile in Ferndale. Another smallish, cozy, romantic sort of place, the sort of place I’d really love to have in my neighborhood. David and I discovered them when we happened across their booth at the Detroit Festival of the Arts this summer. Despite the fact that the crepes there had been premade, due to space and equipment restrictions (yes, I’m sure street-food vendors in France whip up freshly-made crepes on the spot all the time, but they don’t have to contend with ravening hordes of hungry American festival-goers who want their food NOW), they were quite yummy (mmm—Nutella!), with a bit of chew from buckwheat flour added to the batter. We’ve since been to the actual restaurant, and I’m sure we’ll be back–the food was wonderful, and while I’m no wine expert by any means, I thought their riesling and raspberry dessert wines (house made!) were very nice. The staff was very welcoming, too–we even chatted with the chef/owner for a bit (about the air conditioning, of all things), and he seems like a very down-to-earth sort of guy who enjoys his work. Maybe we’ll get to one of their monthly international dinners sometime soon; when we do, I’ll write it up here.