She Dines: The Devil Dons Michelin Stars

“Poverty was repugnant to her; degradation took away two-thirds of her greatness. Milady was only a queen while among queens. The pleasure of satisfied pride was necessary to her domination. To command inferior beings was rather a humiliation than a pleasure for her.”

— Alexandre Dumas, The Three Musketeers

Rarely do I write a critical post. It’s not that I’m so optimistic, but rather that I was gifted with the ability to exercise a certain degree of diplomacy in most circumstances…except this one.

I’ve been to Apparatus Room – located inside the Detroit Foundation Hotel, the product of renovations to the Detroit Fire Department headquarters – several times now and feel I can make a fair assessment. Everything is always perfect – people say what they’re supposed to say, the food is exactly what you would expect from a Michelin 2-star chef, the ambiance is completely representative of a downtown city restaurant. But it’s the kind of perfection that suggests something sinister is going on behind the scenes…like Pleasant Ridge perfection or Stepford Wives perfection. It’s like reading Runway Magazine – the fictional publication that served as the contextual backdrop for the movie, The Devil Wears Prada – and then meeting its cut-throat, demanding editor-in-chief, Miranda Priestly. All examples of perfection followed by unadulterated evil (okay, perhaps I was a little hard on Pleasant Ridge).

Detroit Foundation Hotel entrance and dessert by April Eileen

What I found was precision (good) coupled with an air of superiority (not so good) and a seeming willingness to sacrifice whatever is necessary to achieve that air (even worse). And just as I’d rather not have avocado toasts, delicious as they might be, with the infamous Ms. Priestly, I’m also not really trying to have them at Apparatus Room either. I realize I may never dine respectably in the city of Detroit again by suggesting Apparatus Room is the Miranda Priestly – the unmitigated bitch – of Detroit restaurants but hey, it’s my truth. Despite excellent food, the unmistakable conceit in the admittedly beautiful atmosphere leaves a bad taste nonetheless.

I can usually tell how accommodating a restaurant will be when I try to make a reservation for a large party on an off night. Sometimes it’s simple and the restaurant has space or makes it happen in some other way. Sometimes it is difficult and they are persnickety about how the bill should be paid or mention the entire party must be there before anyone is seated or there is some inordinate fee associated with the room. I’m quite used to any of these rules and have even been in situations where they are compounded (anyone been to Wright & Company lately?) so no worries right? In this case, I never even got a call back.

Now let me back up. I had been to Apparatus Room once before the situation with the unanswered calls. I actually had a good experience, which is why I considered the restaurant for my meeting. In hindsight, it was entirely due to the service of a truly friendly bartender who, by the way, is now at The Whiskey Parlor (go figure). Anyway, I knew they had a private seating area because a member of the staff – longer hair, dark features, grey suit, aloofness seeping from his pores – showed it to me and we discussed it. Sadly, I didn’t write the gentlemen’s name down…total fail on my part because when I finally did get someone on the phone to continue the discussion, describing the gentlemen to which I had spoken – longer hair, dark features, grey suit, pore-seeping aloofness – of course none of it mattered. Not only did persnickety-ness abound, putting Apparatus Room squarely in the “exceedingly difficult” camp but apparently, no one with the description I provided worked there.

I pulled every trick in the book and even dropped a name (it’s literally the only one I have) to avoid some of the rigid rules and was able to make a reservation for the main restaurant area. When I walked in, I was greeted or rather assessed by the haughty hostess, and while I have no general issue with nonchalance, in this case, it was less about trying to create an atmosphere of exclusiveness, which is common among luxury brands, and more about ensuring I realized what a privilege it was for me to be in their establishment.

Pastries and Detroit Foundation Hotel entrance by April Eileen

Fortunately for me, I was in very good company for dinner so the rest of the dining experience was fine and, as I mentioned, the food is really spectacular. It is a real shame it’s overshadowed by a general disdain for all human life. After paying my bill, I took a few steps toward the door and – Gah! I spotted the man I was convinced was an apparition. There he was – longer hair, dark features, glaring aloofness and I swear to God, the very same grey suit! He was there in the flesh and my blood was boiling with rage.

Okay, I’m done. Check out Apparatus Room if you want to feel generally unwanted and inadequate in life (just tell people you went because it’s the only place that serves Sancerre by the glass…we won’t judge). But if you want great food, great atmosphere, great customer service AND that nice warm fuzzy feeling of belonging that makes for a favorite restaurant (wow…what a concept), take another route. Do yourself a favor and check out another of the many fantastic restaurants in Detroit (Selden Standard, Takoi, and Savannah Blue are just a few of my favorite).

What’s your take on ostentatious eateries? Tolerable or maddening?

UPDATE: I decided to give Apparatus Room another shot when I held my monthly mastermind there a few weeks ago. I know, I know! I was hesitant, believe me, but most of my fellow content creators had never been and I felt they at least deserved a chance to form their own opinions. I was the first to arrive and the restaurant was nearly empty so I asked the host if the head chef, Thomas Lents, was around. He was. I was simply going to introduce myself and share that I had met his lovely wife and son during a parent/child class we all had together during the fall. Unworthy as I am, I did expect to have an opportunity to compliment him on his truly delightful family (and the spectacular blueberry lemon pancakes). Nothing major, just the exchange of a few pleasantries. Well, brunch - scrumptious as it was - came and went and I found myself indignantly sipping grapefruit mimosas because I wasn’t given the chance to praise the him. Well, Apparatus Room had done it again and I was put squarely in my place - a mere paying customer. On a MUCH brighter note, we had a delightful server who, like the bartender mentioned above, might make you forget you are in the 7th level of hell but only briefly. There are still red flags - references to the head chef always being “pissed;” the mysterious plate of free pancakes that showed up at our table after my friends and I had openly talked bad about the restaurant in the ladies room; french fries - far too plebeian I suppose - only being served on the less bourgeois side of the restaurant. I suspect nothing has really changed and Apparatus Room is still a sumptuous tragedy but who am I? Just a poor foot soldier, too lowly even to be noticed. Oh wait, that was Mr. Wickham from Pride and Prejudice but you get the idea.

Love in all things,

April Eileen

She Drinks Too: The Mystery of a Modern-Day Speakeasy

Part One: The Hunt

“Go through the back door and into the dark alley. Make a right and head toward the glowing light. You’ll see a door with snake coils on it. That’s the place.”

Um, yeah…because this is From Dusk Till Dawn and I’m George Clooney and he’s Quentin Tarantino and we’re walking into vampire headquarters. Right. My thoughts raced beneath a furrowed brow as my husband and I got directions to Bad Luck Bar – a fairly new and very opulent 1920’s inspired speakeasy in downtown Detroit.

Let me back up. I heard about Bad Luck Bar from my very cool pottery instructor. No, that is not an oxymoron and no, I am not talking about a 60-year-old, retired hippie that still smokes weed every now and then (medicinal, of course). Really, this dude is a 20-something hipster, bartender, and soon-to-be attorney with impeccable taste that just happens to make a mean coffee mug. He tells me I have to check out Bad Luck Bar and while the cocktails are ridiculously expensive, it is really worth it. He says nothing more.

Bad Luck Bar entrance and curtain reveal by Bad Luck Bar

Intrigued, I decide to venture out, dragging my skeptical husband along for the ride. We arrive at Bad Luck Bar, or rather, where Bad Luck Bar should be but quickly learn 1218 Griswold – the establishment’s purported address - does not exist (at least from a street view). Waze, you disappoint me. We drive, and then walk up and down Griswold several times without so much as a whiff of a spirit. Finally, we go into the coffee shop at 1220 defeated and ready to scrap the whole thing. But before we commence stress eating and drowning our sorrows in warm beverages, I decide to give it one more shot. Timidly, I walk up to the barista and ask, “Have you ever heard of Bad Luck Bar?” to which he answers, “Of course.” “Can you please tell us where it is?” I plead.

Ten minutes later, I found myself in a dark and sumptuous room, looking at the cat-eye framed peepers of our very detached, red-lipped hostess. She pulled back a velvet curtain to reveal an extravagant bar that appeared to be plated in gold and owned by Gatsby himself. It was situated amongst a few tables, dim lights, and baroque-like detail to achieve an intimate setting.

Part Two: Inside the Drinkery

“In the main hall a bar with a real brass rail was set up, and stocked with gins and liquors and with cordials so long forgotten that most of his female guests were too young to know one from another.” F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

Yep, the gold Gatsby bar was certainly stocked and I was certainly too young to know about much of its merchandise, most notably The Admiral. This $80 shot of rum - served neat, on the rocks, or as a daiquiri depending on the whims of the patron - is from the UK’s rationing to the British Royal Navy in 1952. As I said, I’m clearly too young to appreciate that kind of rarity. For that expense, I wanted the rum to talk and tell me about drunken British sailors, life on a navy ship, and what it’s like to be mixed with Coke. I skipped the rum and opted for The Empress – a lovely little libation made with vodka, pineapple-honey shrub, and honeybush tea soda and served in a pretty flute with lavender-infused pop rocks around the rim! So. Stinking. Cute. My husband ordered Death and honestly, I have no idea what’s in it but the thing arrived at our table on fire. Really…full-on flames. Since then, I’ve also had Past Lives, which was excellent and The Tower, which, because of a chamomile tea bag that is continuously flavoring the cocktail, tastes very different at the last sip then it did at the first. Points for creativity.

Bad Luck Bar and cocktails by Bad Luck Bar

So what’s the verdict? Bad Luck Bar is serving up an experience, not mere booze. The masterminds behind the scenes have taken time and care to wow their guests and everything is curated to that end – from the speakeasy’s mysterious location, to the way the bar is revealed, to the drinks themselves. Is it worth it? Absolutely. Go and enjoy something from the menu at least once, and if you’re on a tight budget, keep in mind they have a full bar that serves just about anything.

Sound worth it to you? Let me know your thoughts. I’d also love to know if you would spring for the rum. :-)

UPDATE: Not surprisingly, the menu has been refreshed since I originally shared this post and, because I clearly have a thing for pop rocks, I’d recommend trying The Alchemist. It’s a vodka cocktail served with house made black tea-dried fruit soda (that’s boogie for pop rocks) on top. Also, the Admiral is now $120 and that’s all I’m going to say about that.

Love in all things,

April Eileen

She Dines: A Taste of Paris in Detroit

“She wanted to die, but she also wanted to live in Paris.”

— Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary

Not sure about the whole dying thing but I certainly would love to live in Paris! If Paris were a person, it would be a she - an exquisite she - a woman of effortless style, cultural awareness, and an ability to create sheer loveliness. She is clearly the esteemed patroness of the latest eatery in Detroit’s West Village - La Bohéme. This cutie pie of a café is perfect for getting my French fix until Madame Paris and I are officially besties. 

Salad, china, pastry and art gallery at La Bohéme by April Eileen

I had the pleasure of meeting one of the proprieters, Jean Jeannot, when I stumbled in after grabbing tea from Sister Pie. “La Bo-em!” I exclaimed. “I’ve been meaning to get here!” Jean congratulated me on my near-perfect pronunciation before telling me that the café was closed and directing me to the hours on the door. I grimaced but was delighted. I hadn’t been rebuffed by a Frenchman since I asked for an English menu at a restaurant in the 5th arrondissement. #menudenied #figureditout #foodwasfantastic   

What kind of foodie would I be if I let a little thing like shop hours stop me from partaking of la nourriture? I vowed to return and return I did and this time, I didn’t even have to use my 2nd grade French speaking skills to have a great experience. I soon noticed all of the details that make La Bohéme so quaint and charming - flower-shaped smoked salmon, ornate teacups and silverware, and two clocks on the wall to ensure that guests know the time in Detroit and Paris. They have a light breakfast and lunch menu with yummy French fare, a solid tea selection, and several pretty pastries (I couldn’t resist the Marie Antoinette). Also, if you take a peek downstairs, there is a small gallery (surprise!) that’s currently displaying Emmy Perryman’s photography. 

La Bohéme’s got a little something for everyone so if you’re ever in Detroit and up for a little taste of Paris, check it out and tell me what you think.

UPDATE: Sadly, La Bohéme is no more. C’est dommage. Mark Kurlyandchik of the Detroit Free Press has speculated that the notoriously competitive restaurant market may have reached a saturation point in Detroit. Over the past several years, fellow foodies have watched with delight as the Detroit food scene expanded at light speed. Unfortunately, many restaurants have not been able to sustain themselves in the frenzy and have had to close their doors. Perhaps this is the story of La Bohéme. Regardless, it will join other formidable establishments in the annals of Detroit’s restaurant renaissance history.

Love in all things,

April Eileen