[Model D] Restaurateur Tony Vulaj to open Midtown Zeff's and Tony V's Tavern in Midtown

Anton Vulaj, who goes by the nickname "Tony V," has two new restaurants opening in the coming months in Midtown.

Vulaj is no stranger to the Midtown restaurant market: he's been in the game for 14 years now as the owner of the Olympic Grill on Warren and Campus Diner on Cass, both just steps away from the Wayne State University campus. "I like the neighborhood," he says. "Clientele-wise I know I won't have a better clientele than I do with Wayne State University."

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[EID Feature] The Poutine Prophecy is Fulfilled at Brooklyn Street Local

All photos by Nicole Rupersburg.

Dee Gifford and Jason Yates are Detroit n00bs, but they seem to have the hang of it already. They just opened a brand-new diner on what is now the hottest stretch of business real estate in Detroit: a place where lighting has struck not once, not twice, but at this point three certifiable times with a couple more still dangling as question marks in the air. (Will Mercury Burger Bar be a huge hit on the level of Slows/Astro/Sugar House, or do they lack the appropriate booster connections to make them buzzworthy? With the media/restaurant dream team behind Gold Cash Gold will it be Huge Ass Huge? Will the Bagel Brothers open to as much acclaim as they received when just working out of their kitchen in Corktown a year ago and FORTHELOVEOFMAN WHEN WILL THAT BE???)

Yep, for a business owner or would-be entrepreneur, Michigan Avenue is the place to be to capitalize on the magic leprechaun juju of Corktown. But for Dee and Jason, who moved here in January from Toronto (Other Fake New York, but a better one), it was simply a golden opportunity for a young couple to open their own business.

Why? Because buildings are cheap and the dream of the ‘90s is alive in Detroit.

“I wanted to open a restaurant,” Dee says. “It’s been my dream for about five or six years now. When Jason and I met he also wanted to open a restaurant so that worked out very well.”

Jason had lived in Toronto his whole life and Dee had lived there on and off for a decade, but they didn’t have the capital to open a restaurant in Toronto. “It is prohibitively expensive to open a restaurant [there],” she explains. “It’s really competitive; every block has 10 restaurants. It’s a fun place to be a server but I didn’t have $500,000 in tips lying around [to open a restaurant].”

So they started thinking about different places they could go, and Jason – who is also a musician and had Detroit on his radar from that world – suggested they check out Detroit. “I had heard of the local food scene, the urban farms, and we knew property prices would probably be cheaper.” And how!

Over Canadian Thanksgiving in October 2010, Dee and Jason came down to check it out. They drove around the city, went to bars, saw bands play at PJ’s Lager House, and kept coming back for more. “There was no real structure to our visits,” she says. But eventually they stayed at Hostel Detroit shortly after it opened last spring, and that was really when they started to get serious about looking at properties. “We met a whole bunch of people through that. It was definitely a big influence on us; everyone we know in Detroit we pretty much know through the people we met through the hostel.”

In most cities the opening of a hostel barely raises an eyebrow, but in Detroit it signified what many here already knew to be the dawn of a new Detroit – a Detroit not just attracting business travelers with the Big Three and conference attendees at Cobo Hall, but a Detroit that was attracting curious young people from all over the planet who had heard the stories and wanted to see it for themselves. Sure, that whole conversation is sooooo last year, but in the example of Dee and Jason the hostel provided exactly what founder Emily Doerr had always intended for it to do: create a community hub, a place for locals and visitors to converge, for relationships to be made and ideas to evolve. It’s not JUST a hostel; it’s the only hostel in a city that in just 3-4 years has become a source of fascination for the rest of the world (even if that fascination did start out somewhat inadvertently as Schadenfreude).

Dee and Jason had spotted the building that would become Brooklyn Street Local on Michigan Avenue and thought it was a great location. But there were no signs indicating if the building was even available or who to call to inquire about it. Through their connections from the hostel, they got connected with Ryan Cooley of O’Connor Real Estate who showed them the space. “We thought it would be a good fit and it absolutely was.”

Dee’s mother made the investment in the building and they are renting-to-own from her. “We feel very lucky to have parents who were supportive [of our idea],” Dee says. “When we were telling people who weren’t familiar with the city they’d say, ‘WHY are you moving to DETROIT?’ Our parents were like, ‘Awesome, that sounds like a really fun project!’” They closed on the building in December and moved to Detroit on January 16.

Work began on the inside; they kept the kitchen but redid most of the interior space. They trolled Craigslist and thrift stores for chairs, bar stools and other interior elements (like the old church pew). Graffiti artist Reyes painted a mural on the side of the building as part of the “Detroit Beautification Project.” There were some minor repairs that needed to be done and other area businesses rallied around them with recommendations and general support.

“Another thing we found very different from Toronto when we came here was how other business owners [were asking us] ‘What do you need?’” Dee comments. “They were all very supportive. It doesn’t even feel like competition in the traditional sense.” She remembers taking a small business management class in Toronto and making a business plan for a restaurant which including having to “scope out” the competition and get “the competitive edge.” “[This] didn’t feel like competition in the traditional sense ... everyone was very collaborative and really supportive. The way we’re thinking about other businesses [here] is not in an ‘us vs. them’ sort of way. It’s all very supportive and awesome!”

Whether it was people they hadn’t even known for two months putting in a 12-hour day slinging poutine at the St. Patrick’s Day Parade or fellow business owners lending a helping hand (sometimes two hands), Dee and Jason were given a big fat friendly Detroit welcome.

Brooklyn Street Local official opened for business on May 17. If you’re wondering about the name, there is no great mystery: “Brooklyn Street” is the name of the cross street on Michigan Ave. where the restaurant is located; “local” refers to their emphasis on local products. “We definitely wanted to include local and organic food; we’re very passionate about it.”

As for that food, they make everything in-house themselves. They aren’t formerly trained as chefs – Dee learned a bit from working at a specialty grocery store that had a prepared foods section and Jason just loves to cook – so what you get is truly the home-style home-cooked experience. They make all of the sauces, dressings, and mustard; all of the pastries and the quiche; anything and everything baked; the veggie burgers and hummus (Jason’s own recipe); even the pea meal bacon. What they didn’t already know how to do themselves, they learned. You want to know about Detroit-style DIY? This is it right here.

Whatever they don’t make themselves they get from local producers, like tempeh from the Brinery and jam from Slow Jams Jam. They get produce from Brother Nature Produce not even half a mile away. They have a wide selection of vegetarian and vegan items on their menu, and a lot of items can be made vegetarian and vegan – like their poutine made with hand-cut fries, which can be made with mushroom gravy. (Their vegan bacon is very popular.)

Right now they are only open for breakfast and lunch Tuesday through Friday 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. and Saturday and Sunday 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. (and cash only). Dee has a lot of ideas for them down the road – dinner events, workshops on canning and making their signature mustard, really any number of different fun things. But for now they’re focused on getting their initial business down and bringing poutine (and other stuff) to the hungry masses.

OHMYGOD LET’S TALK ABOUT POUTINE.

A year ago I was in Toronto and I posted a picture of poutine to the EID Facebook page. People were like “LOL WUT” and “Ew, sounds gross.” And so I began to beat the poutine drum, seeking it out in whatever meager capacity it existed in metro Detroit and often wondering aloud to followers why the F no one around here makes it or even knows what the hell it is with Canada so close by. I prophesized poutine was going to be a thing here (saying, literally, “Poutine: it’s gonna be a ‘thing’”), and then? Green Dot Stables announced they were going to have it. And then Mercury Burger Bar announced they were going to have it (they even put a it on a window cling). All of this while Dee and Jason were getting their place ready and wondering themselves how no one else had thought of it.

Well, a couple of people did (and I’m not saying I had anything to do with it, I’m just saying let’s not discount the possibility), but fact is fact so brace yourselves: much like Mexicans make the best Mexican food and Japanese people make the best sushi and black people make the best soul food and drunks make the best beer, Canadians make the best poutine. At long last, the poutine prophecy has been fulfilled.

Want to see more? View the Flickr set here.

 

[Metromix] Mae's

Mae's Bacon Butter Burger Deluxe. Photo by VATO for Metromix.

It’s not quite Ferndale but it’s so close it should be counted among Ferndale’s notorious teeny-tiny diners famous for breakfast and lunch. Mae’s in Pleasant Ridge has been open two years in April under the ownership of the snarky yet adorable husband-and-wife team Sean and Jessica McCarthy. Eating here is like going to Grandma’s if Grandma were an effortlessly cool twenty-or-thirty-something who smokes and swears and does cool artsy things without being self-important about it. It’s a mom and pop shop for the Facebook-and-iPad generation.

The Mood:
It’s retro hipster chic inside Mae’s. The walls are adorned with vintage signs from Detroit brands like Vernors, Faygo and Wonderbread, some dating as far back as the 1920s. The vintage décor pairs well with the original teal-blue 1950s soda shop stools, chairs, and chrome tables with laminate tops. “All the furniture is original [to the restaurant],” Sean says. “We didn’t have to come up with a design concept!” Glassware and plates are mismatched and kitschy. On one wall you’ll find chalkboard specials and a collection of black and white photographs spanning three generations of Jessica’s family. The photos—some art, some personal, all professional-quality—were taken by Jessica, her brother, their dad and their grandfather, all of whom were photographers. As far as looking at other people’s family photographs go, these are actually fascinating, and lend a very personal feel to the place. And on any given day, this 42-seat breakfast nook is populated by our skinny-jeaned, shaggy-haired, horn-rimmed, mustachioed, plaid-adorned friends who believe Beirut is a band first, the name of a shawarma shop second, and a Middle Eastern capital city a distant third.

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(Note: be sure to click through the photo gallery for descriptions of the dishes.)

[EID Feature] Big Boy, My Big Boy

All photos by Nicole Rupersburg.

Question I am most often asked, #1: "What's your favorite restaurant?" (Note to the audience: I really hate that question.)

Question I am most often asked, #2: "How did you get 'into' food?"*

My history with food isn't really all that romantic. Shall we begin like David Copperfield?

I've been eating food for as long as I can remember. CRAZY, I know. There was really no impetus for it; just sort of a situation of basic human needs being met kind of a deal.

Okay, I'll stop being a sh*twit. Those of you who have been a Nicole Rupersburg Superfan for awhile have already seen my bio, but for the rest of you I'll repeat this snippet: "I grew up in a household where Shake 'N Bake and Hamburger Helper was de rigueur. Dining 'out' meant a cheeseburger at Big Boy. (And I still to this day love Big Boy.)"

I wrote that a couple of years ago, and I got a lot of positive feedback about it. People really seemed to personally relate to the part about Big Boy.

The thing is, most of you probably have a Big Boy story. The family hamburger chain (headquartered in Warren, Michigan) is ubiquitous in Southeastern Michigan, and no matter what kind of family you grew up in -- no matter how rich or how poor, how city or how suburban -- odds are your parents wrangled all you unruly children into a Big Boy at some point, where you ate their famous Big Boy Burger (the original double-decker ... yup, McDonald's swiped it from them) and drank their hand-dipped shakes served in a fountain glass with the stainless steel mixing cup with MORE shake in it on the side. You remember the brown octagon-shaped tiles, the orange-brown vinyl booths, the one section under the skylight (in every location), and coloring with dull crayons on the paper placemat and all over the iconic large lad.

As part of a corporate-wide re-branding initiative, Big Boy is now referring to itself in marketing and inside the restaurants as your Big Boy. When I walked into the location at Hall Rd. and Garfield in Clinton Township and was greeted with, "Welcome to your Big Boy!," the girl had no way of knowing that this really was MY Big Boy.

Most of my youngest childhood years were spent in Fraser. We went out to eat as a family probably once or twice a month, and it was always to Big Boy, and always at the Fraser location on Groesbeck and Kelly Rd. (long-since closed). My father and I also had a monthly Sunday breakfast ritual. We had to go all the way over to the other Big Boy in Fraser because our Big Boy didn't have the breakfast bar (which was a huge source of excitement and anticipation for me, and most surely marked the beginning of my sacred brunching). Then I got older and things changed. I started high school. I started dating a guy from a different high school. His friends all hung out at Big Boy, and therefore so did we.

When an elderly person succumbs fully to dementia, there is a specific point in their lives in which they seem to live in perpetuity. For me, it will be these days. It was the whole of my high school existence (and most of college); we sat in Big Boy, chain-smoked cigarettes, drank bottomless cups of coffee and talked. About life, the universe and everything (also Douglas Adams). About music and movies and books--Metallica, Jeff Noon, Beavis and Butthead, Sister Machine Gun, the State, everything, nothing, it didn't matter. Hours and hours and hours and hours we spent there. Sometimes our group was only three, sometimes we filled an entire section (looking back I pity those poor waitresses). This parking lot was our pre-concert meeting place; inside we held our post-concert powwows. We made lifelong friends, we fell in and out of love, we had our hearts broken, we learned we were smarter than our parents and also how to be jaded. We experienced all the magnified extremes of raw emotion only possible when you're a teenager. We were adolescents playing at adulthood. All here, at this Big Boy.

I don't often accept invitations from PR reps for media tastings and events. But when I got an email from John Fuller inviting me out to taste some of the new dishes at this Big Boy, MY Big Boy, I couldn't resist.

I walked in to find the place almost unrecognizable. After a $400,000 remodel in mid-July (this location being the first in the company to go through the full re-branding), the space is brighter, cheerier, and more stylish with also a bit of an old-fashioned soda shop throwback appeal. (I remember the last time they remodeled, probably in the late '90s. They shut down for three months. We didn't know what to do. This was how Ram's Horn, Denny's and National Coney Island got thrown into our rotation: it was Big Boy diaspora.) They've introduced a variety of new menu items with a focus on freshness, utilizing more local products, and the same large portions, hearty flavors and low prices that have made Big Boy a family favorite for 75 years.

John and I sit down and order up several rounds of food to sample. There's the BBQ Ranch Chicken Tenders (a sandwich made with chicken tenders on a grilled sesame roll with melted cheddar cheese, tomatoes, shredded lettuce, ranch dressing and BBQ sauce), the Buffalo Chicken Salad (a new menu item with choice of grilled chicken or chicken tenders with tomatoes, red onion, bleu cheese crumbles and croutons, then topped with their signature Buffalo sauce and bleu cheese dressing), Chicken Parmesan (an old favorite with breaded chicken breast, melted mozzarella and marinara sauce), a Coney Dog (from the all-new footlong hot dog menu, loaded with chili, diced white onions and yellow mustard), and the Best Burger on the Planet (another new item from the new Burger Lovers' Burgers menu, and while the name itself may be a bit ambitious it is indeed a DAMN tasty burger). And to wash it all down, a Peanut Butter and Jelly Shake, made with real peanut butter and quite literally just like the real thing blended with ice cream.

John and I sit down to sample all the different items, and they're every bit as reliably big and hearty as you have always been able to expect from your Big Boy. Big Boy epitomizes the American diner: as trends move this way or that (micro, gastro, organic, etc.) there is still a huge faction of America concerned less with celebrity chefs and haute food trends and more with being able to get a good meal at a good price. I will repeat this, ad infinitum: THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT. Big Boy may not be gastro this-or-that, but it's damn tasty diner food. It may be full of blue hairs and screaming kids, but that's the atmosphere of the classic American diner (that and teenagers who will take up several tables for hours sitting, drinking coffee and philosophizing).

When I launched Eat It Detroit, the most important thing to me was to be as all-inclusive as possible. This means putting up fine dining against cheap diners, profiling unknown business owners in NW Detroit alongside the latest white dude opening a cocktail bar, running back-to-back Hot Lists on hot dogs and halal restaurants. To me, Big Boy fully represents that all-inclusive ethos. It's a chain (sneer); it's a non-trendy family restaurant serving pedestrian American diner food (sneer); it appeals to the lowest common denominator (sneer). But the classic Big Boy double-decker sandwich is still one of my favorite burgers, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. Plus, hi, their pies and desserts? AWESOME.

Sitting with John and talking about life, work, travel and Detroit for a couple of hours reminded me of why I loved Big Boy so much in the first place. More often than not, sharing a meal is less often about the food and more about the people that you're with and the memories you associate with the experience, and that is something the Food Network can never package and sell.

*Actually, that's a lie. The second most-often asked question I get is "How do you eat so much and stay so skinny?" I'm on the almost-double-digit side of size 8; I ain't that skinny. Anyway, for the purposes of this, we'll stick with the other #2.

Want to see more? Check out the Flickr set here.

Real Detroit Weekly: Plaka Mediterranean Grill (Canton)

"Plaka Mediterranean Grill in Canton is not the easiest place in the world to find. First off, it's in Canton — which is where mega-store monoliths and sprawling shopping plazas go to reproduce. Secondly, it's kind of hidden behind the giant parking lot of Panera Bread (which is the only way I was able to find it after driving up and down Ford Rd. a few times and finally calling Plaka's owner, Dino). In Cantonian terms, it's two clicks west of IKEA on Ford Rd. (because everything in Canton is on Ford Rd., and all directions must be given in relation to the IKEA).

'But all this urban sprawl means one thing for western Wayne County: there are a lot of people there and they need to eat...."

Read the rest of the article here.

Real Detroit Weekly: Hilton Road Cafe

"How would you describe the menu here?" I ask owner and cook Effie Lambros. "Awesome," pipes in Sara, one of the regulars. "My dad says this is my kitchen."

Effie and her husband Steve took over this charming 28-seat restaurant in January 2008. "I was looking for a cute little restaurant in Ferndale and this popped up!" Effie happily exclaims. "I loved it the minute I came in; it had a homey vibe and I wanted it to stay that way." Just on the other side of Hilton Road from their home, the Lambros family has long-standing roots in Ferndale, and the cafe has become an extension of Effie's own kitchen. The bottom line is that food is their passion. "We're Greek!" Effie jokes.

Read the rest of the article here.

"Tai Hing" Means "Public Housing"

I feel bad for my ex-boyfriend. For years all he ever wanted to eat was Chinese food. Every time I would ask him what he wanted, I always knew the answer would be (in an extremely insenstive but humorous faux-Chinese dialect) "Chinese foooood?" And inevitably, I would scrunch my nose and roll my eyes. That man only got Chinese food on Christmas when we were avoiding our families. Same goes for the one that followed, who would sometimes come home with Chinese carry-out for himself and a pizza for me.

(I love pizza.)

And now here I am, ordering myself some damn General Tso's and Egg Foo Young. Sweet irony. Honestly, I think I was tainted by all those years my parents dragged me to this one place that used to be on Gratiot and ordered Sweet and Sour Chicken every. single. time. I hate Sweet and Sour Chicken now because of that. (That place did have those electronic/neon landscape wall art signs that look like they're constantly moving, though...that was kinda cool.)

After an aggressive marketing campaign during which time I would regularly step over menus slipped discreetly under my apartment door, I discovered Tai Hing Express, a strictly carry-out and delivery Chinese eatery located at 1114 Holcomb St. at Jefferson (east of Van Dyke). Out of boredom, hunger, and a fast-growing realization that I quite possible eat too much pizza, I decided to go with this new Chinese place.

A perusal of the menu revealed all of the classics: egg rolls, assorted lo and chow meins, almond chicken, sweet & sour everything possible. Make no mistake: this is very much a generic Chinese-American joint, no different than the hundreds of thousands of generic Chinese-American joints that came before it (often located in strip malls or shopping malls). But hey--I'm not looking for anything fancy, just something tasty. Oh, Tai Hing also caters to the sushi trend, offering a variety of standard tuna/salmon/shrimp/avocado rolls and edamame. Cute, but I stuck with a straight pseudo-Chinese slate.

You gotta love a place where you order by number (it's the hallmark of all Asian eateries): I opted for A34, General Tso's Chicken and Shrimp Egg Foo Young. This also came with Chicken Fried Rice and an Egg Roll, all for just $8.45. I also added a pint of Egg Drop Soup for $1.32. The price is right as the quantity is enough for two; too bad it was so hard to choke down.

First of all: bland-a-roni. And mind you, I was going into this with low expectations. But even the General Tso's chicken, which should at least have a thick, brownish-red, slightly sweet and spicy sauce was BLAND. The rice was BLAND. The soup was BLAND. The Egg Foo Young was disgusting, but that's partially my fault for not remembering how wholly unappealing it was when my father used to order it (it's basically an omelet slathered in a BLAND gravy). The shrimp was also rubbery and tasted like it had been in the freezer for a year. The egg roll was an egg roll, and much like most egg rolls is only really edible when drowning in plum sauce.

Overall the entire experience was disappointing. I wasn't really looking for anything special: maybe just a place to occassionally scratch my General Tso's and fried rice itch, a non-pizza place to deliver food directly to me when I just don't feel like walking all the way out to the parking lot. Nothing fancy; just decent cheap food. Like a Chinese Little Caesar's. What I ultimately ended up with was almost inedible, and even after braving the leftovers most of it still ended up in the trash. I'm all for giving the local holes-in-the-wall a chance, and have often been pleased enough with the results. But this, dear foodie friends, was more than I could stomach. If only blandness could be their worst crime: it was simply unappetizing. Even the fortune cookie was stale. I didn't even know those things could get stale.

So, the search continues for a decent Chinese diner in Detroit. This is one thing I do miss about Macomb County: Chinese eateries are in abundance and most are pretty decent. (My favorite remains to this day Wok Inn on Hayes in Clinton Township, across the street from Lakeside Mall. Their General Tso's is the bomb-diggity but don't take my word for it--click on the link and check out the comments left by Whytegurl 18.)

Johnny Rockets No More

The Johnny Rockets location on Woodward at Montcalm has vanished without a trace. While it is unfortunate to see a business go under, especially after a good string of years in the same location, I can't help but feel irregular business hours and an alcohol-free diner-like atmosphere in a heavily sportfan-trafficked area with so-so service to boot might be to blame for the ultimate failure of this franchised location. It is my hope that a more fitting enterprise now take its place in this otherwise prime location.

A Slice of Life and Cheesecake at SPICE

There was recently an article in the Detroit Free Press about Charles Walker, Jr., owner of the recently-opened SPICE Restaurant located at 18354 Fenkell at Grand River. I typically don't go for the sob-story School of Hard Knocks type of journalism, but when that "school" is actually the Culinary Institute of America my interest is much more readily piqued.

SPICE is a pretty standard Detroit diner; they pull a large carry-out business and offer such popular neighborhood fare as fried fish and chicken, house-smoked chicken and ribs, burgers, fries, salads, and a much-touted cheesecake. It's a soul food spot with a CIA designation, and an owner who truly had to overcome a number of difficult personal obstacles in order to realize his dream.

A diner with a chef who trained at the CIA? I'll stand behind two sheets of bulletproof plexiglass for that. Read the full article here; during a time when there is so much negativity in the news (well, moreso than usual, and in regards to Detroit especially), it's refreshing to hear such an uplifting story. And now I really want that cheesecake.