BY CARLA WALDEMAR
The Lowbrow
4244 Nicollet Ave. S.
612-208-0720
thelowbrowmpls.com
Here I am, eating fish sticks—something, after being liberated from my mother’s cooking, I swore I would never again do.
But these didn’t come from a freezer box, they’re from the scratch kitchen of The Lowbrow, the in-town roadhouse melting the intersection of 43rd & Nicollet.
The space had never been a restaurant, and owners Heather Bray and Jodi Ayres had never owned a restaurant before, either, though both had served in many. In fact that’s how they met, working at The Birchwood—a prime reason you’ll never need a stove if you live in Seward.
The standout feature of the neighborhood’s designated clubhouse (or so it seems) is its cheeky North Woods deer-in-the-headlight mural. The next best is the ballcapped grizzly on its retro logo. Third comes its salute to local craft beers. Fourth, the homage to regional, sustainably-grown and family-farmed ingredients. Fifth, its friendly, small-town service.
Then we get to the food. Nothing from a can or Kraft truck, but, on the flip side, nothing (at least, among the fare we tried) that mightn’t be. It’s tavern food before taverns discovered arugula or spiked their mayo with chipotles. I’m not expecting James Beard Award quality at these neighborhood-friendly prices, but—ahem—something, please, to set the kitchen apart. Something to make us say, “Ya, sure, that’s different!”
The standout was the robust, toe-warming bison chili, with its modest burst of heat beneath a sour-cream drizzle and flurry of Cheddar. It’s accompanied by textured but otherwise uneventful homemade tortilla chips.
A pulled pork sandwich ($10.50) was gorgeously buxom, but the meat proved on the dry side, despite the “homemade BBQ sauce” of generic sweetness. It’s served with a tiny cup of seasoning-free coleslaw and choice of green salad or fries. The slim spuds were underwhelming.
What’s a tavern without a burger? Not to worry: Here you’re offered your choice of eight. Proles can find comfort in the Lowbrow ($8.75), topped with shredded lettuce, tomato and onion, as a blue-collar burger was meant to be. Slumming patricians can cement their status with the fancy-pants Highbrow version ($11), adorned with melted brie, caramelized onions, field greens and a roasted garlic aioli. Other sandwiches cover the short-order basics, from grilled cheese to a well-stuffed Reuben—and, what’s this? Grilled tofu? Where do they think they are—among the lotus-eaters of Edina or smack in the middle of South Minneapolis? Whatever!
But hey, those fish sticks ($12). The crew in the open-to-view kitchen have coated sweet and tender, wild-caught cod in crunchy panko crumbs, a treat. They, too, come with a spoon of coleslaw and side of fries, along with a cup of zingless homemade tartar sauce. Good match for my glass of Summit. Desserts, untasted, star a chocolate stout cake with ganache and cream cheese frosting, straight from the ’brow’s own kitchen, or Sebastian Joe’s always-wonderful vanilla.
TVs flickered above the generous bar for those who enjoy a game with their brew. Or opt for a comfy booth or streetside table beside the broad windows. Other seats, lining a gleaming hardwood floor, feel like dining in a fast-food environment, which a quick design fix could alter: low dividers, planters, what have you, or even mellower lighting, perhaps.
Lowbrow’s late hours are a welcome draw, as is the friendly welcome. It’s easy to see why the neighbors were quick to adopt it as their dining stand-by.
