Troy Graves has returned to the corner of Damen and Charleston, where he was once chef at Meritage, before it was Duchamp, before Duchamp became Red Door, the new gastropub whose kitchen Graves (also formerly of Tallulah, Eve, and the Algonquin restaurant Montarra) oversees. The red doors—both in front and out back—are said to symbolize hospitality. Through door number one is an elegant, minimalist bar and a little dining area; in its intimacy and its low light it sort of recalls Danny’s, the bar across the street, though this is really the only way in which it resembles its scruffier neighbor.
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Door number two leads to the patio. This is a patio to spend a summer on, with wood paneling and dangling lightbulbs and a convivial atmosphere. The conceit of the restaurant—”globally-inspired pub fare”—means shareable grub and a broad drink selection. The cocktail list tends toward the fruity—given the season not such a bad thing but for the quality of the drinks themselves. If you’re given to spending $12 on a garnish, then by all means try the yuzu julep, augmented with spicy, wonderful shiso leaves. It also happens to contain a 12-year-aged whiskey from Suntory, yuzu juice, gum syrup, and muddled shiso, but the latter is really the only thing the drink has to recommend it. It’s otherwise weak sauce, literally, that tastes like watery lemonade. The Commodores Buzz—a dark-rum-based summer drink and, at $9, a relative bargain, though not an absolute one—was similarly one-note, sweet this time rather than sour. On the other hand the beer list is impressive, and a friendly server was happy to recommend a good substitute (the sharply hoppy Bear Republic Racer 5 IPA) when the beer I ordered wasn’t in stock. There are also booze snow cones—recently, a Templeton rye manhattan, a Bulleit bourbon old-fashioned, and a mojito made with Grey Goose pear.
Come to think of it the kitchen also does well by meat. A hanger steak was rich and well-cooked beneath its blanket of charred-ramp butter; ditto the tender lamb neck in the aforementioned sloppy joe, though after a few bites its overly sweet sauce became hard to handle. Under the banner of meat (yuck, sorry), another dish challenged the salad in the simplicity sweepstakes: a perfect lemongrass chicken thigh atop a pile of grilled spring onions, on a plate strewn with mint and roasted peanuts. It’s in this dish that Graves most successfully lives up to the promise in the restaurant’s tagline—that globally inspired pub fare—with an easy, internationally flavored plate that lands just where it aims to.
2118 N. Damen 773-697-7221reddoorchicago.com
