HauteDish

HauteDish has stripped the former Café Havana to its handsome bones. At the 35-foot mahogany bar you’ll find a young crowd, and it seems the kids have raided Dad’s liquor cabinet and know a thing or two about cocktails. The mint juleps served in silver cups are perfect. Crank up the stereo, and sing along with the earnest (tattooed) servers who are welcoming, savvy, and conspiratorial (“Go on, have another Pimm’s”). This place has a madcap approach, outrageous yet warm.

Chef Landon Schoenefeld’s light-hearted menu reads irreverently, with “Soup of the Moment: That Sounds Good I’ll Have That,” “Pork ‘n’ Beans: Not in a Can,” and “Flavor Country Burger: With Everything, No Temps or Substitutions, Ever.” But don’t be fooled, what comes out of the kitchen is serious stuff. This is American food boldly redefined.

Start with “Char-Cuts (Yar!).” Several days a week, chef Erik Anderson (whose other job is at Sea Change) creates lovely platters of house-made charcuterie, such as headcheese with bright red-pepper jelly, rabbit terrine, and herbaceous chicken pate. Be sure to try the steak and eggs, a plate of silky tartare with a winsome toad-in-the-hole and bloody Mary oyster shooter. On the three-part menu (First/Middle/Last), a steak comes with a big marrow bone and silver spoon plus duck fat–fried potatoes. But the star of the show is Duck in a Can à la Martin Picard, the master of nose-to-tail eating and chef-owner of Au Pied de Cochon in Montreal. Opened tableside, the can releases duck breast, foie gras, garlic, and cabbage onto a slab of toast. It tastes great, but it’s intense—after four bites your eyes grow dull and your breathing labored.

Better yet is the touted tater tot hotdish, with crisp croquettes that spill porcini béchamel over succulent mahogany short ribs. Chicken and dumplings delivers feathery gnocchi and tender, nicely crisped breast meat. This is full-throttle cooking, and a few dishes land with a thud. Creamed peas on toast seem an odd match for smoked sturgeon; mac and cheese with king crab, taleggio, and truffle is white and listless.

Not all dishes rely on overload. Take a niçoise salad with chunks of silky olive oil–poached tuna, or the composed asparagus plate that weaves wafer-thin slices of white and green asparagus around an asparagus flan that enrobes a soft, runny egg yolk. Sweet endings are restrained and nuanced, thanks to the talented Christian Aldrich. His shortcake of strawberry sorbet, raspberry puree, and balsamic-sparked berries is a tart, smart finish to such bold fare.

HauteDish aims high with iconic flavors and highly crafted technique. The flavors are true and humble; the execution soars. I was moved by its authenticity and character. Whereas some haunts of high cuisine seem overly ambitious or self-conscious, HauteDish is completely and unapologetically itself.

Three Great Plates
+ Med Plate. On a Mediterranean plate of olives and hummus, a feta panna cotta capped in tangy tomato gelée shines.
+ General Tso’s Sweetbreads. Fried rice is paired with unctuous foie gras and crisp, creamy sweetbreads in the signature tangy-sweet sauce. It’s irresistibly tasty and surprisingly light.
+ Buttermilk Rosemary Panna Cotta. This dessert is a shimmering opal, silky and smooth, an elegant finish to the aggressive plates that define this place.

119 Washington Ave. N., Mpls., 612-338-8484, haute-dish.com