Chev’s
1545 St. Clair Blvd.
203-6623
The air was cool and the streetlights warm in a freshening rain when my companion and I took in an evening at Chev’s, an eatery just around the corner from Jane and St. Clair Boulevard.
Chev’s is just beginning to get its belt on under it, after spending a year and a month building its customer base in the fiercely competitive east-central dining market. On its side are novelty and ambiance: the building it occupies was once the upper floor of the Mayor’s personal stable, and has been renovated to a coppery shine.
We were seated after a short wait on a busy Thursday evening and provided with a wine list, from which we selected a bottle of ‘98 Wild Duck Cranberry to split. The obligatory basket of bread was of curious origin; upon inquiry, we were told that it was a recipe from the southern US, called “sour dough.” It was chewy, but served well enough for cleansing the palate.
My companion chose first, a Gouda and Crab Fistula prix-fixe dinner which included a bowl of Egg Drop Soup and Toasted Tampanade. As regular readers of this column have come to expect, I ordered exclusively from the children’s menu (a single insert of unlaminated pink paper). I selected the Junior Burger with two sides: Baked Tater Tots and the house special, Mac ‘n’ Chevs. I was informed that the former two items were low in carbohydrates.
I’m sorry to say that Chev’s perpetuates the deplorable custom of waiting several minutes after one (my companion, in this case) has finished one’s appetizer or soup before delivering the main course. From our seat just next to the kitchen doors, I could clearly see my Junior Burger sitting on a warming shelf; there it continued to sit for nearly seven minutes. Meanwhile, I kept hunger at bay with more of the sour dough, garnished with grape jelly.
When our food did arrive, I was gratified to find the burger still a tender mouthful and the tots lightly and freshly prepared. The Mac ‘n’ Chevs was covered with a breadcrumb topping, which I scraped off, using the handle of my spoon. The fistula, my companion reported, was perhaps a little heavy on the gouda–it could have used another pound or so of crab.
We had saved room for dessert, but were saddened by the news that Chev’s once-infamous Banana Brandy Broil can no longer be legally served in four territories. We settled for an Almond-Vinaigrette Cor Pulmonel, a vigorous concoction that failed entirely to disappoint.
Our wine, dinner and dessert came to a mild $86.20, excluding tip (I don’t); many of the entrees are priced in the under-$35 range. Though it lacks a bit in edge–for example, the waitstaff don’t recite beat poetry (as in certain other downtown establishments), and the light isn’t blue — Chev’s still has a breadth of menu to go all three holes with any of the restaurants in its area. It receives three saliva-droplets and a grade of 89.