Paul Meijer
Google
An evening at Andiamo Detroit Riverfront unfolds like a well-rehearsed symphony. Each course, each detail, paced with poise, evoking both comfort and craft. Nestled within the glass-lined expanse of the Renaissance Center’s Wintergarden, the restaurant commands a rare perspective. Detroit’s city lights shimmer across the river, with Windsor just a breath away. It is a setting that feels cinematic, the sort of view one leans into between courses, glass in hand.
The meal began with Gamberetti di Andiamo, a composition of colossal shrimp, tender yet assertively seared, bathed in a lemon-tomato broth fragrant with white wine, garlic, and softened leeks. The toasted sourdough, given more than a passing thought, offered a rustic foil to the bright, aromatic sauce. A dish that plays to both northern restraint and southern exuberance in equal measure.
Bread service, often overlooked elsewhere, here became something of a ceremony. Warm breads and crispy sticks accompanied by a vibrant olive oil infusion punched up with garlic, cracked pepper, and herbs just bruised enough to release their oils. It set a generous tone, one that carried forward throughout the meal.
The house salad was a quiet triumph of simplicity. Crisp field greens, ribbons of carrot, cool garbanzo beans, cucumber, and tomato, all pulled together by a creamy garlic dressing that whispered rather than shouted.
Pasta e Fagioli arrived humble in presentation but deeply rooted in flavor. White beans, sausage, and greens melding into a rustic, soul-warming broth. It is the sort of dish that could just as easily have come from a grandmother’s kitchen in Emilia-Romagna as from a polished kitchen in downtown Detroit.
The centerpiece, a ten-ounce filet cooked precisely to medium, was as well-executed as any steakhouse might promise. Elevated here by its companions, tender scallops, a meaty portobello cap, fingerling potatoes roasted just to the edge of crisp, and asparagus kissed by heat until its bitterness mellowed into something sweet and green.
Dessert was a restrained finish. A tart raspberry sorbet, bright and palate-cleansing, followed by a cappuccino of admirable structure. Dense crema, deeply roasted notes, and no trace of bitterness. The detail that sealed it was almost whispered into the experience. A delicate stick of rock candy offered as a stirrer. It was not just charming. It was considered. The sort of flourish that speaks not to trend, but to tradition and intention.
Service, too, deserves its due. Mike H, my server, struck that delicate balance between discretion and attentiveness. His recommendations were unforced and well-considered, and his timing impeccable. Never rushed, never distant.
Andiamo Riverfront is no stranger to high expectations, bearing the name and pedigree of the Joe Vicari Restaurant Group. But it is not merely riding on legacy. This is a restaurant that still believes in the ceremony of dining, an ethos built not just on what is on the plate, but how it is offered. The result is something rare, a meal that does not just satisfy, but stays with you.
Many thanks to Frank Knox for the recommendation.
