Harry's

Address
500 Washington Ave. S., Mpls., 612-344-7000, harrysfood.com

The Scene
You gotta love a massive beer bottle chandelier that sits high atop a relatively irrelevant host kiosk in the entry of Harry’s, the new eatery that occupies the old Nochee space on Washington. The bar is a large four-sided affair, the dining room is spacious with acres of dark wood, there is stadium-appropriate decorative signage, deep oversized booths, boulevards for aisles between tables . . . Harry’s is almost too big for its own good. Great gastropubs get energy from small footprints—they seem full even when they’re not. The Shea–designed Harry’s always seems oddly unexciting, even during a crowded lunch service.

Our Take
Steven Brown, who assembled Harry’s menu and recipes but departed at the end of summer, is one of the best chefs in the five-state region. Gastropubs are part of his DNA, from his art-rock oeuvre at RockStar to his acoustic set at The Local. Levain was a superb place to eat during the Brown era, but I always missed his pot roast sandwich. The best items on Harry’s menu reflect his love affair with everyday eats, from the radishes and butter to salt-and-pepper shrimp, from scallops in brown butter to creamed sweet corn. But now that Brown has left, it is up to owner Dwight Bonewell and his team to keep the simple homey genius and not dumb it down. Brown’s spin on a walleye sandwich, a shaved beef sandwich, cured salmon, roasted chicken, pot roast, grilled pork chops, and daily blue-plate specials are all clean and delightful versions of familiar dishes. I hope the kitchen will learn to cook the duck breast with more patience and construct the BLT so you can actually eat it like a sandwich. And the desserts need work—a chocolate banana pie had no chocolate or banana flavor at all, which is a bit of a problem.

Two-Fisted Lament
Signatures are important. You go to Punch for pizza. You hit Manny’s for a steak. So I ordered burgers as part of my meal on all three visits to Harry’s, which boasts one of the most appealing burger menus I have encountered in recent memory. The fries are great—thin, real potatoes that are almost grease-free. The accompaniments are faultless—beguiling combinations (truffled ham and Brie, sautéed morels and Gruyére!), superior ingredients, and even potato-flour buns. But the meat is as flavorless and texturally disappointing as you could imagine. The fix is easy enough, but will anyone else notice?