Zach V.
Yelp
I've eaten all over the world, from dirt floors and dripping, newspaper-wrapped street food to literal curly mustachioed sommelier-staffed fine dining. The full spectrum from indistinguishable insects to indecipherable, deconstructed imitations and "elevated" versions of that same humble food. Once-white dishrags so worn there's more hole than thread to the cleanest white tablecloths with a higher thread count than my bedsheets. So when I tell you, from a place of some experience, that dinner at The Cook's House was the best meal of my life, I hope that such a seemingly brash and hyperbolic statement bears enough connection to reality that you see beyond the simple "5-stars" and act on any motivation this review might give you to make a reservation and experience the untold myriad of sensations offered there for yourself.
The first important note is the incredible charm and knowledge of the staff. An easy-going greeting to comprehensible, anything-but-condescending description of the dishes and wine pairings, and jovial conversational nature, the front of house experience was as warm and welcoming as the first dish. Few restaurants truly achieve the much-coveted atmosphere of "home", and without pomp or contrived "hospitality", The Cook's House embodied these existential desires of every diner through sheer personality.
The next is the perfect pacing of the meal. From the first bite of squash soup, which was an amazingly balanced "hearty", but not "heavy", the menu took twists and turns that were easy for the casual diner to follow, but didn't feel at all cliché or trite.
Following the soup came a rigatoni that evoked the first of several "Ratatouille" moments for me. The beef and pork meat sauce conjured thoughts of the rich beef stock they must have used, transporting me immediately to a small alleyway pho shack in Vietnam that I return to in my mind frequently. Tiny, yellow knock-off Little Tykes chairs and a generations-old broth made that experience special, and somehow The Cook's House found a way to introduce such a lineage into a meat sauce with roots from centuries and continents away. The dollop of dairy in the center cut through the richness without overriding it, and the perfectly cooked rigatoni provided a textural difference that kept your interest in every bite.
The protein course hit several interesting notes. With choices between a crispy, flaky, flavorful walleye and a tender but toothsome steak, I'd highly recommend bringing a friend and splitting both. The bone marrow mashed potatoes brought deep layers of umami to the party that felt two best friends meeting after a long time, but somehow still managing to finish each other's sentences. The real star of this show was the mushroom. Unassumingly placed next to the steak, the punch of flavor put the dish just on the right side of overwhelmingly rich. Any further, and the scales would tip too far for the body to handle, but The Cook's House kept their foot on the scale with a touch of acid in the sauce that walked the whole dish back from the cliff's edge with kind words and a stranger's hug.
No dish was more thought-provoking or intriguing than the beets. Think for a second about the purpose of art: sure, some art is about literally replicating some life event in the visual spectrum, or freezing a moment in time, but what is art really aspiring to produce? Emotion. That's what this dish created. I honestly don't even know if I liked it, but the combination of beets, apples, cocoa, and micro greens challenged me to reconcile flavors and textures that bore such a close resemblance that they felt like seeing yourself in the mirror with hair parted in a different direction. You're the same person, but something about your reflection seems unfamiliar and somehow more attractive. This dish felt like taking a chance; not a desperate one, but a liberating, 500-Days-Of-Summer romantic whirlwind with a much happier ending.
The final course was the second "Ratatouille" moment of the evening, and let me tell you that having just one is enough to bring the word "Michelin" to mind. Cornbread, simple syrup, poached apples, and whipped cream not only brought me back down to Earth after the beets, but brought textures and mouth feels so interesting so as to stand up to that complicated vegetable. The arrangement here could not have been more perfect.
Everything, from the first step in the door to the rush of cold air upon re-entering the fresh November air in Traverse City, was perfectly executed without feeling contrived. In a world of chef's tweezers and farm-to-table condescension, The Cook's House provided more than just food, but a sensory experience matched only by it's effortless, but still hard-working, warmth of service. This experience alone is enough to warrant a trip back to the Third Coast.