Opened in 1953, this cozy, 76-seat restaurant was originally a house, built in 1923. It was purchased in 1993, but the new owners kept the name and the Italian kitchen, churning out an increasing variety of pizza, pasta and steak. It’s an old-fashioned, romantic Italian joint, with a small bar and 13 tables (seven of them in a small, candlelit back dining room) all clad in red-and-white checkered tablecloths. How romantic is it? The restaurant’s general manager, Scott Palmer, tells us they’ve had 150 proposals take place there over the last 20 years. Clearly, this is where Macomb County proposers take a knee.
For those unfamiliar with Ethiopian dining, a big part of the draw is that you get to eat with your hands (steaming washcloths are tendered before and after). At the Blue Nile, you get only two all-you-can-eat choices: four meats and seven vegetables or all-veg. Diners use small pieces of bread to scoop up the food, and the juices soak into the unleavened bread so that the last part of the meal is the tastiest.
A newcomer to our roster of winners, this year Southfield’s Tokyo Buffet Lounge topped our readers’ list of great buffets, and it’s easy to see why: an array of sushi, sashimi, Chinese food and a stir-fry station, as well as ice cream for dessert.
Demand for foods that respect people’s dietary restrictions has never been taken more seriously. Enter Ethel’s Edibles, a popular purveyor of baked goods that won’t irritate people with gluten sensitivity.
When it comes to baking, having another business as a partner can be a smart move. So says Ann St. Peter of Pinwheel Bakery. More than two years ago, tired of the hassle of baking and running a retail, she gave the front of the house over to longtime friend and former co-worker Sandi Heaselgrave, who now runs the coffee shop Red Hook out of it, selling Pinwheel’s baked goods. The move has freed up St. Peter to focus on production, and the business thrives on its wholesale sales to a bunch of different cafes and restaurants around town.
Sure, Avalon’s breads are among the best, regularly featured at restaurants far beyond their Cass Corridor location. But if you like your sandwiches made for you, show up at lunchtime as the focaccia comes out of the oven. It might be topped with organic roasted zucchini, tomatoes, basil and Parmesan. Avalon has branched out from the baguettes and crusty peasant loaves of yore.
Bad Brad’s motto is “From our smoker to your plate,” summing up their intention to give diners the best barbecue possible. They start every day at 5 a.m., cooking beef brisket and pork shoulder in fruit wood and hickory smoke as long as 14 hours. Get a taste of the meat in one of their many cleverly named sandwiches or choose among sliced or chopped brisket, pulled pork or chicken, or pork sausage.
This year, Union Woodshop took top honors for its barbecue, which is hardly a surprise, as, under the leadership of Aaron Cozadd, the Southern Pride smoker on the restaurant’s back lot cranks out small-batch smoked proteins. That said, lots of restaurants understand that gluten-sensitive diners are worth the extra effort it takes to cater to their dietary restrictions, but only a few eateries offer an entire gluten-free menu, Union Woodshop among them.
The barbecue spot next to Whole Foods on Washtenaw Avenue has become top dog this year, garnering more votes than Red Rock and Blue Tractor (what’s with the colors?). But don’t take our readers’ word for it. The restaurant has a smoker right where you can see (and smell) it.
This nationally recognized Corktown gem is packed with faithful barbecue fans willing to wait over fancy beer or wine selections for hours just for a taste of the delicious Carolina-style pulled pork, the sharp and creamy mac-n-cheese, or the flaky catfish. And our readers voted it best barbecue in the county.
One-Eyed Betty holds an impressive collection of craft brews, around 45 drafts and 85 bottled beers. What’s more, all the items on the menu pair perfectly with the beer selection, or are cooked with beer — like the tasty beer-and-cheese soup.