I know Ann Arbor
like the back of my hand, a cliché I use with gusto, as that is how
Michiganders point out where they live in the mitten state. I grew up
here, went to college here, met my husband here and visited here
frequently during the 20 years we lived overseas. Seven years ago, we
moved back here (to A2, as locals call it), drawn to its small city
charm and big university culture. Our only worry was that our palates
might protest having lived in Brussels, Cairo, London and Paris. Though
we were longtime fans of our still-thriving student standbys — Zingerman’s Deli for a Reuben, Dominick’s for a sangria, and a double patty at Blimpy Burger — we knew little about post-1980s Ann Arbor restaurants.
Happily,
we discovered a food frontier that did not disappoint. In our nearly
three-decade absence, the dining scene had grown from collegiate to
culinary. Living in a state brimming with agriculture and a town teeming
with academics, the food movement felt both authentic and educated, as
evidenced by an early “sustainably sourced” brunch we enjoyed at the
Grange Kitchen and Bar, where we learned from an earnest waiter and
Ph.D. candidate that even the spicy bloody mix in the “Michigan Mary”
was produced locally, and lovingly, in Detroit.
Despite
this, until the past few years we continued to harbor some lingering
nostalgia for a few of our favorite restaurants abroad, though the
opening of Spencer,
a restaurant that serves fantastic cheeses, temporarily eased our
lactose lust. Then, as if by magic, a whole new crop of Ann Arbor
restaurants sprouted, each filling a different gastronomic gap in our
lives.
Diver scallops with butternut squash purée at the Taste Kitchen.
Marvin Shaouni for The New York Times
Taste Kitchen
We had been missing London’s globe-trotting, fusion-food restaurant scene, when Taste Kitchen
opened in September 2014, an elegant one-room restaurant just streets
from campus. Featuring the creations of the chef Danny Van from Vietnam,
the space is modern and fresh with Asian accents: a stunning wall of
blue-gray slate, polished wooden floors, orange lanterns bobbing over a
bar and woven mats on linen-topped tables.
Mr.
Van’s dishes transported us to Vietnam, France and Britain, mixing the
best flavors from each. Regular menu items include diver scallops ($30),
bouillabaisse ($26) and shaking beef ($25). Though your taste buds
travel, Mr. Van’s ingredients hail from nearby, whether you choose the
Lake Erie perch ($28), served with wilted greens, tomatoes, capers and a
lemon butter sauce, or the tuna poke with crispy won tons, shallots,
sesame seeds and avocado ($15). The provenance of the extensive wine and
tea list, however, circles a dizzying number of countries.
Taste Kitchen, 521 East Liberty Street, tastekitchena2.com. Dinner for two is about $100, without wine.
Duck confit with black lentils at Mikette Bistro and Bar.
Marvin Shaouni for The New York Times
Mikette Bistro and Bar
Another
craving that was missed in our Ann Arbor diet was the fare from a
bustling bistro, a European mainstay. Then in August 2016, Mikette Bistro and Bar
opened. Immediately I took my 85-year-old father, who had owned a
French restaurant in Ann Arbor in the ’60s that flopped within a year
but lived on in the pages of “Tender at the Bone.” Ruth Reichl, the
former editor of Gourmet, wrote hilariously about waitressing at my
dad’s restaurant, where the chef stole food and the patrons protested
the prices. (Chateaubriand for two cost $16, a framed menu in our home
shows.)
From the moment we walked into the
lively Mikette, it was obvious that the owner, Adam Baru, had achieved
what my father had not a half-century earlier. Mr. Baru is a seasoned
restaurateur with two other successes: Mani Osteria, an Italian favorite
of Mario Batali,
who has a home in Michigan; and Isalita, inspired by the street food
found in Mr. Baru’s wife’s native Mexico. A master at matching food and
décor, he outdid himself with Mikette, transforming a nondescript
one-story building into a movie set from “An American in Paris,” with
red banquettes, colorful French posters and a year-round terrace warmed
in the winter by standing heaters just like those on the Champs-Élysées.
But
it was the menu that resurrected my fondest food memories. In Paris, my
go-to bistro dish was always a Lyonnaise salad — lettuce, pancetta,
crispy potatoes, topped with a lightly poached egg. And there it was on
the menu, for $11, along with duck confit with lentils ($17), always my
father’s first choice. It was while living in Brussels that I discovered
gougères (Parmesan pastry puffs) and the way people there eat moules
frites, gripping a French fry with an empty mussel shell and dipping it
in the fragrant broth. Both items were on the menu ($8 and $15), as were
plump plates of oysters ($36 for 12, from the West Coast) that I
watched a group of late-night diners slurp down with chilled glasses of
chardonnay, while my father and I ended our meal with crème brûlée and
chocolate mousse (both $6).
Mikette, 1759 Plymouth Road, mikettea2.com. Dinner for two, with wine, is about $120.
Nick Haddad serving guests at Avalon Cafe and Kitchen.
Marvin Shaouni for The New York Times
Avalon Café and Kitchen
On
Sundays, particularly at lunchtime, we still longed for our favorite
British pubs, where one could always find a hearty roast and jovial
crowd. That lasted until this past December, when the Avalon Café and Kitchen
opened. We already knew the brand. Avalon International Breads, owned
by Ann Perrault and Jackie Victor, is a beloved, 100-percent-organic
bakery that opened in Detroit in 1997, in what was then one of the
poorest, most-crime-ridden areas in the city (now it is a hot spot of
revitalization). With more than 1,000 customers streaming through their
Detroit doors daily, they decided to expand beyond the city by opening a
cafe and full restaurant in Ann Arbor.
Avalon Café and Kitchen’s slow-roasted pork shoulder with risotto.
Marvin Shaouni for The New York Times
Though
I was initially lured into Avalon’s cozy cafe — with its coffee bar
serving treats to be savored — I gravitated quickly toward the adjacent
restaurant. The red brick walls, rows of wooden tables and long leather
bench that stretched the entire length of the far side were
quintessential traits of a British tavern (though Avalon’s tables were
less rickety). What’s more, the menu was filled with comfort food from
across the pond: a slow-roasted Berkshire pork shoulder ($22), a braised
oxtail French dip ($14) and grilled porridge bread with a bacon jam
that was far better than Marmite ($8). Yet the menu also featured
lighter items, a pan-roasted trout with root vegetables ($25), which
made me feel less guilty about finishing the meal with a dark chocolate
bread pudding ($8). Beer on tap featured Michigan breweries, and the
boisterous crowd enjoying ale and hard cider mimicked the perfect pub.
Earlier
this year, a friend asked me to meet her for lunch at a new
health-driven cafe called Fred’s. A fan of the popular Ann Arbor vegan
restaurant, the Lunch Room, which now has two outlets in Ann Arbor, I
was wary that another clean-eating restaurant would succeed. But walking
into the bright, airy space casually decorated with wooden crates,
wildflowers in glass jars and church pews softened with colorful
blankets, it felt exotic and strangely familiar. It reminded me of the
funky cafes we used to frequent in Egypt, as did the menu filled with
fruity smoothies and grainy dishes. We ordered a kale dip with lime,
cumin and cashew cream, served with toasted whole-wheat lavash ($7), a
chickpea salad ($5) and “sweet potato nachos” ($7); the thinly sliced
rounds topped with corn, mango, black beans and a sprinkling of salsa,
cilantro and lime looked too pretty to devour — until we did. Everything
at Fred’s tasted like fresh air, warm winds and sunshine amid our
freezing Midwest winter.
As I later
learned, the young owner and chef, Fred Lelcaj, intended to do just
that: serve the healthy food he craved, like his power bowl boasting
three kinds of fruit, hemp hearts, almond butter and gluten-free granola
($11), acai ($8) and rice bowls filled with a range of items, like
banana and coconut, and rice bowls ($8) topped with shaved bulgogi and
grilled salmon ($10).
While Fred’s big
sister, Sava Lelcaj, is the owner of two restaurants in town (Aventura
and Sava) both popular with the adult university community, Fred’s —
located under a student-apartment building — is still mostly filled with
backpacks. That demographic is sure to change, just as the food scene
here will evolve, keeping a transient population of students, alumni and
visiting parents sufficiently sated as they return year after year — or
in our case, for good.
Fred’s, 403 East Washington Street, fredsannarbor.com. Lunch for two is about $30.
