Getting a good grub on in a tavern business model can be a crapshoot. A safe bet for drinks and maybe a bite of something, but beyond that it can become a bit of a gamble. Playing with house money (much appreciated, Metro Times), I came to the table at Dearborn’s Oakwood Grill hoping to walk away a winner-winner twice. Instead, after coming out ahead on my first visit, I decided to cut my losses about halfway through the second. On balance, I’m feeling just about broke-even.
Maybe it was beginners’ luck that I experienced initially, on an early Sunday afternoon during the Lions’ bye week. Not as busy as Oakwood might have been otherwise, lunch buddy and I breezed in and had our pick of seats in its open, sports bar-centric space; walled with big screen TVs and set with mostly high tables and chairs, dotted with some banquette and communal seating, and at least one hookah lounge-kushy booth we initially grabbed but dropped way too deep into. Seconds after resettling on the nearest highboy furniture, we chatted-up our perky and pleasant server before ordering a couple preliminary courses. Over the next hour or so, she and the bartender tag-teamed the entire room with smiley hospitality, getting food, drinks, and refills to dozens of customers in short and good order.
Tearing into Oakwood’s “She’s Berry Nuts” salad ($13.95) and “Philly Spinach and Artichoke” dip ($10.95), buddy and I agreed the greens really brought the goods. A late-autumn-sized leaf pile of fresh, field-variety lettuces came tossed with loads of dried cranberries and raisins, walnuts (candied?), and sun seeds, studded throughout with chopped tomato, red onion, and crumbled blue cheese, all judiciously dressed with a low-fat raspberry vinaigrette that tasted better than advertised. We should have brought along a third healthy eater to share this one salad with us. The melty, cheesy, and chunky dip, meanwhile, was tasty, too, though the “fresh” corn tortilla chips — probably not quite what the menu promised — cooled our overall praise. It’s so easy to make an elevated impression when these are flash-fried then served still warm and crispy. And such a wasted opportunity when they aren’t, for what it’s worth.
Where other value perceptions were concerned, the kitchen’s rendering of its “Righteous Reuben” ($12.95) and a pub-respectable platter of fish and chips ($15.95) both proved admirable efforts. The former, affording us thin-sliced and tender corned beef teamed classically with sauerkraut, Swiss, and slathered Thousand Island dressing, came sandwiched on grilled and perfectly greaseless marble Rye. The latter, with succulent steamy white cod loin pieces cocooned in crunchy-light beer batter were good enough to make a flaccidly (in flavor and texture) forgettable side of slaw forgivable on balance. And here’s a bonus point for fresh-cut lemon wedges on the plate, which so many fish dish garnishers these days don’t seem to feel is necessary, though it damn sure is. I digress. As to the waffle fries that came with; they’re not my favorite French-fried potato to complement this English-Irish classic, but these were surprisingly well-seasoned and cooked crispy-fluffy, outside-in.
After finishing a strictly institutional slice of carrot cake ($5.50) salvaged slightly by our server’s suggestion of caramel sauce (squeeze bottle stuff, at no extra charge on my bill), I felt I’d had enough to know a, say, three-plus-star review of Oakwood’s fare having tasted one. After duty required a second sampling, sadly, I had to reassess.
The stars started to dim the second I saw my all-too-precious portion of seafood chowder (“Homemade Soups” $4 cup, $5.50 bowl). How small was it? I could have hollowed-out a billiard ball from Oakwood’s pool table and had two fingers of room left after pouring in the amount I was served. More’s the pity, since the chowder itself was solid for sure: roux-based, medium-thick, and laced with a bit of Old Bay I bet; swimming with shrimp, chopped celery, and onion, as a proper chowder should be. I get it. How much seafood-based goodness does four bucks secure? Still, this soup cup plating looks paltry, period. I’d charge a little more and change that if it was up to me.
The appearance of stingy portioning next plagued my mostly empty plate of Filet Tips ($14.95). Again, I know fifteen bucks doesn’t buy much beef tenderloin. Even so, seven stew meat-sized cubes laid side-by-side the length of a long, rectangular plate painted a picture of starvation dieting more so than a small plate sampling. And the “garlic toast” go-with sure was: thin, sliced bag bread neither browned nor bathed with enough garlicky butter to look or taste like such. The filet fragments themselves came medium-rare as ordered, yet unappetizingly gray and under-seasoned, with a cup of separated oil/butterfat and jus adding another layer of disappointment. Thinking I couldn’t go wrong with wings ($12 for 8, bone-in or boneless), I was almost right. Fryer or grill-finished with a slight, crispy char, mine were fine, basted in honey barbecue and dipped into the bleu cheese option my attentive bartender offered while taking good care of me. The only thing missing was the carrot and celery accompaniment the menu mentioned. At that point, I didn’t bother bringing it up. Sigh.
As an eatery, Oakwood goes so far as to offer market-priced proteins ranging from Ribeye and Filet Mignon ($35-$39) to seafood and lamb ($22-$28). After thinking I’d try their “Chicken Parm” ($17.95) for a finale, too many less-than-satisfying menu samplings to that point gave me second thoughts. What I’m left with in summing up what this particular bar and grill’s all about is that it’s abundantly average, plain and simple. The service is there. The customers there seem content enough with what the place has to offer. Some of the food’s commendable. Some, not so much.
In a word, Oakwood’s just “there.”
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