Side Bar makes a compelling case

By GABRIELLE  LAWRENCE

I’m sometimes loath to socialize with other lawyers. One of my primary focus areas is “domestic” law (read: I’m a divorce lawyer), and I pride myself on being able to compartmentalize work and not allow the stress of it to spill over into my personal life. I don’t particularly find pleasure in getting together with my fellow nerds to commiserate over who has the neediest client, which local judges are the worst (if you’re reading this, I swear I’m not talking about you, your honor!) and who is going to the next continuing legal education conference.

This was one of the primary reasons why I resisted going to Side Bar. It’s owned by a lawyer and adjacent to a law firm. You wouldn’t catch me there.

However, a few months ago, I chose to attend a networking event for lawyers at Side Bar. There were snacks set out, and I was shocked by how good the pizza was — and how surprised I was by that. Lawyers aren’t known for being bastions of health, and I was anticipating some easy-to-overlook bar food.

It was with this in mind that my co-reviewer and I decided to make Side Bar our subject this month.

A few weeks ago, I met some girlfriends (all lawyers, now that I think of it) for dinner. Again, none of us had particularly high expectations. Our server was a college-aged young man. We asked him for an appetizer recommendation, and he said the beer cheese dip ($15) was, like, really good. We were able to look past this glowing endorsement and ordered it in spite of that.

The dip was, in fact, really good. Whatever beer was in there was a far cry from the Keystone Light that yours truly drank 20 years ago before I kicked the habit. My salmon ($43) was well seasoned and crispy, which are two prerequisites for delicious seafood (or really any protein). My friends felt similarly about their Nashville fried chicken sandwich ($20) and steak sandwich ($24), both of which I heavily sampled. Had Side Bar been an excellent restaurant hidden in plain sight this whole time?

The men of the She Ate family traveled out of town recently for a weekend soccer tournament, while my daughter and I stayed behind. I took the princess to Side Bar for a Friday night girls’ dinner and decided to start with the spicy feta dip ($16), knowing full well that she would never eat it and resigning myself to take 75% of it home with me for a late-night snack.

We were presented with a bowl of a warm, creamy, pleasantly spicy dip. It was delightful. It was served with a massive amount of beautiful, fresh crudites, including sliced mini English cucumbers, tri-color carrots (not some wilty, pale celery à la Buffalo Wild Wings) and sliced pita bread.

My romaine side salad was served next. Is it weird if the side salad was the best part of the meal? It’s not referred to as a Caesar, but it heavily leaned Caesar. The croutons, in particular, were buttery, salty and crispy, and our server probably thought I was insane when I questioned her about them. They’re torn Ciabatta, she explained, pan fried in oil and salt. Have mercy.

I had the pasta with crumbled spicy sausage, tomatoes, red onion and mushrooms ($26). I was immediately struck by the volume and variety of the mushrooms. The plate was laden with a hefty serving of all different kinds of fungi, and the entire dish was sparingly coated in a cream sauce. The dish wasn’t fancy or precious, but it was so much better than I expected.

I found myself wondering why, eventually coming to the conclusion that there were two characteristics that were present in every menu item I had tried: The food was seasoned, and there was enough high-quality fat. Even my daughter’s fries were salty, just oily enough, thick-cut wedges, and she ate the entire plateful. Her chicken tendies ($16) were meaty, with flavor to the batter. The romaine salad was Parmesan and pepper forward.

I still don’t want to hang out in a suit and talk shop with other members of the bar. But if it means getting to sample more of Side Bar’s menu, I’ll make an exception.

 

 

By BRYAN BEVERLY

“Sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your name.” The catchy theme song for the 1980s sitcom set in a sports bar shines a light on the relationships and sense of community found in beer-infused spaces.

Just steps from the Michigan State University campus, Side Bar makes a compelling case for itself as more than just another sports bar. If dining experiences were argued in court, Side Bar would present a strong brief: a thoughtful menu and an atmosphere that could persuade even the most skeptical diner.

Owner Andrew Abood, an East Lansing-based lawyer, has created an intentionally designed space. Entering the restaurant feels a bit like stepping into a well-appointed courtroom: orderly and quietly confident. Warm wood accents and modern industrial touches set the stage, while the glow of television screens provides the energy of a gallery watching proceedings unfold. The design strikes a careful balance: lively enough to capture the excitement of a big game yet refined enough to maintain decorum.

The kitchen builds its case around elevated interpretations of classic sports bar fare, and the emphasis on scratch preparation attempts to give the menu credibility. At the bar, the beverage selection presents its own evidence. Craft cocktails, rotating beers and approachable wines provide a well-balanced portfolio of options. Drinks are delivered with a level of care that reinforces the restaurant’s overall ethos: casual but considered.

Perhaps the strongest argument in Side Bar’s favor, however, is its sense of place, which reinforces the establishment’s argument that a sports bar can still maintain a level of sophistication. It serves both the spirited crowds of game day and the locals seeking a higher-end neighborhood spot. The atmosphere encourages guests to linger, deliberating over another round or extending the evening’s testimony with friends.

Objection

My first visit was very uneven. The vibes were on point, but the food and customer service were lacking. I ordered the calamari ($14), which was overly crispy and too chewy but seasoned well. According to the menu, the squid was supposed to be accompanied by a garlic aioli, but my starter was served with marinara, which was far too chunky to dip the rings or tentacles into.

Later, the romaine salad ($13) was delightful. A chopped version of a Caesar, the dressing was divine, and the combination of shaved Parmesan and sourdough croutons offered contrasts in flavor and texture.

The hot honey chicken wings ($13/6) were a huge letdown. Bland and pale with a barely-there hot honey glaze, I couldn’t muster the will to eat more than two. I shared my discontent with both the kitchen manager and the restaurant manager, who responded by pointing at the salt and pepper shakers near my seat at the bar.

I decided to order the steakburger ($22) to appease my continued hunger. It was drenched in a flavorful red wine and onion jam and surrounded by a pillowy bun. My satisfaction was quickly repealed, however, because I was still charged for the disappointing chicken wings when my bill arrived — an awful precedent.

Sustained

My second visit started off pretty roughly as well. I inquired about the bone-in pork chop ($39) but was told it was sold out. The friendly bartender recommended the Atlantic salmon ($43), and I acquiesced, but I substituted Brussels sprouts for the asparagus. I also ordered another romaine salad because the first one was so good. Sadly, it arrived 20 minutes later, at the same time as my entrée.

The fish was flaky and well seasoned, and the cushion of sweet potatoes underneath was also quite good. The sprouts were joined by lardons of bacon and were roasted justly.

Best bite

While it was really hard not to select the salad mentioned above, I also enjoyed the steak sandwich ($24) that I ordered to go on my first visit. Tender slices of beef were joined by fontina cheese and a super flavorful shiitake mayo that entered the very best of umami into the record. Each bite of this handheld was a deposition of yum.