He Ate, She Ate

It’s not much of a stretch to say that Harry’s Place grew up alongside the American automobile. Since the early 1920s, this watering hole on Lansing’s west side has had a front row seat as the bodies of dozens of car models were churned out across the street at the Fisher Body plant.

It wasn’t called Harry’s Place at first, but the site was a constant presence as a factory bar for generations of General Motors workers. That is, until 2005 when GM shuttered the plant.

Now, the sprawling industrial site on Verlinden Avenue is just one huge brownfield. And Harry’s? Doing just fine, thank you very much. The clientele base is no longer GM shift workers, but in this gentrified neighborhood, Harry’s still has a blue-collar feel percolating in its DNA.

Harry’s dwells comfortably in a cuisinal purgatory; more than a bar, but not high-end enough to claim the mantle of restaurant. There are no grand claims of farm-to-table and no pretensions of ginning up the menu in new and exciting directions. Just sandwiches, pizza, a nightly special or two and an all-you-can-eat fish fry on Friday nights.

All that may come off as a backhanded compliment. Sorry for that. Harry’s is, as Hemingway once put it, a clean, well-lighted place. The service is prompt and the servers must be taking classes in enthusiasm. If a server is slammed with customers, the boss pitches in by delivering food and drinks, and does so cheerfully.

And the food, while not dazzling, shows that someone in the kitchen pays attention to details. On our first visit, our friend ordered the fried chicken ($8.95). Harry’s definitely doesn’t skimp on the portions. I tasted the chicken and appreciated the fact it was lightly battered, had a juicy interior and lacked the grease that dooms many a fried chicken. Our friend called it the best friend chicken she had had in an area restaurant.

Her husband had the wet burrito ($8.95). I took a taste, and found it to be the most predictable and pedestrian of our choices that night.

I opted for a couple of bratwursts in buns ($6), loaded with mustard, onions and sauerkraut. I wouldn’t change a thing. An order of sweet potato fries ($3) was disappointing because they had cooled down too much before reaching the table. To be fair, we ordered them on our next visit and they arrived hot and crisp.

On our second visit, I opted for what’s considered a house specialty — the half-pound Greekburger ($8.95). It was two hamburger patties stuffed with feta cheese, sun-dried tomatoes and chopped green olives. Cooked to order, this was a showstopper and a belly-stuffer.

This being a Friday, my wife had the all-you-can-eat fish fry ($10.95). I give this a B-plus. I don’t like over-battered fish, and Harry’s got that memo long ago. The cod was lightly battered, so you could actually savor the delicately sweet cod flesh inside.

On that same visit, our friend Bruce ordered the spare ribs ($9.95). He is a bit of a ribs connoisseur, so I awaited his verdict. Prepared perfectly, he declared. Tender but crisped up nicely on the outside. The sauce was too sweet for his taste, but otherwise he gave it a thumbs up. Another friend had the turkey Reuben ($6.75), which she judged to be very good.

On Fish Fry Friday, the joint was hopping by 5:30 p.m., and stayed busy throughout our meal. The clientele was a pleasing mix of families, millennials and the ever-present, aging Baby Boomers like me. Our server was sassy in a fun sort of way. It was obvious from her T-shirt and others working there that this is a Spartanleaning bar.

The story of Harry’s Place is part urban revival and urban survival. After GM closed up across the street and razed the factory, you’d have thought Harry’s would meet a similar fate; another factory bar nearby closed years ago. But Harry’s keeps chugging along, just like my ever-faithful 1955 Chevy (“Body by Fisher”) did — until I sold it for scrap. Yes, I’m an idiot.

Full disclosure here. I can’t be too hard on Harry’s, because it’s personal. You see, my father worked at Fisher Body in the 1950s. While the decor is surely different more than a half-century later, when I walk into this place I am certain that Keelan Nixon was no stranger to this place.

I’ll bet you a case of Stroh’s on that.

-Mark Nixon

History Lesson

Despite the fact that Harry’s Place was just a stone’s throw away from my high school when I was growing up, I never stepped foot in the place back then, preferring the more exotic Fazoli’s or Panda Express in the Lansing Mall. So when the opportunity came up to review Harry’s, I was eager to dive in — especially to the pizza, which I’d heard so much about.

The 14-inch House Special ($15.95) comes with ham, pepperoni, sausage, mushrooms, green onions and peppers. The crust was pillowy, yeasty and positively loaded with toppings. I also tried a 14-inch Greek pizza ($14.50) topped with feta cheese, gyro meat, tomato, peperoncini, onions and green olives. I used to think that I hated feta cheese, but you wouldn’t have known by the way I positively Hoovered my way through this pizza. The feta gave a great tang, the peperoncinis a little heat and the meat had that distinctive lamb flavor, grassy and fresh, added a little saltiness.

That was lunch for four. A few days later we returned for dinner and the place was packed. There were locals, coworkers celebrating something and even a foulmouthed table of 40-something women who have a serious problem with their neighbor Pam.

The boyfriend and I started with the pita and tzatziki appetizer ($4.50). These are not pita chips — they’re thick, hot, crisp strips of doughy pita bread served with a bowl of refreshing tzatziki, a sauce made of yogurt, cucumber, and herbs. (Two fun tzatziki facts: For some reason, my brother believes he invented it two years ago; also, it’s something I would consider licking up off the floor if it fell.) This appetizer was perfect. It was hearty, but didn’t push us over the edge before our main course.

My entrée was the Friday special fish fry. The fried cod is all you can eat and comes with two sides. Fries and coleslaw are the default, but the waitress told me that I could actually select any side I wanted from the menu. Fantastic. I chose a baked potato, which might have been cooked when I was actually still in high school up the street, and stir fry vegetables. The cod was lightly battered, hot, and plentiful, but nothing special. The star of dinner was the ribs that the boyfriend ordered. They were thick, meaty, spicy and to die for. They too came with a choice of two sides, and he ordered fries and corn, which he doctored with a little butter from my potato. The fries were typical bar fare.

We headed back to Harry’s on the day after the election to eat our feelings. (We had both really hoped that Clay Aiken would win that North Carolina congressional race, but alas … .) I told the boyfriend to go nuts and choose whatever he wanted for our dinner, so he tried to murder me with cheese. We started with mozzarella sticks ($5.50), something I haven’t had in about a thousand years. There were six of them, and they were a little bit garlicky and also tasted suspiciously of guilt. That flavor got more pronounced as the night wore on.

We went for pizza again, but this time controlled ourselves (ha!) and ordered a 12-inch Hawaiian ($12.50.) Most of the toppings were fine — ham, onions, and pineapple — but we held the mushrooms and ordered bacon instead. The guilt bubbled over.

Again, the crust was thick and pleasantly chewy. The bacon was actual crumbled bacon, not some artificial bacon product, and the two of us polished off the pizza before we knew what hit us.

Harry’s does pizza well, and ribs, when you can get them. Other than that, we weren’t there for the food. We were there to support a neighborhood bar, a vestige from the days not so long ago when General Motors was king and the castle was right across the street.

It’s wonderful how this neighborhood has continued to lift Harry’s up, and we will continue to go there to do the same thing. 

-Gabrielle Johnson