Poutine, the (in?)famous Canadian dish of pomme frites ladled with cheese, gravy and meat, changes daily. A fine ensemble, though the jam proved just sweet enough to throw the other flavors out of balance. Strammer Max, an open-faced sandwich on buttered rye toast, could well be called breakfast for dinner: melted French comté cheese molded like hot wax around a mound of shaved Black Forest ham slathered with onion jam and crowned with a sunny-side-up egg.
On the side comes a salad of winter greens with white beans and chewy wheat berries, dressed in a heavy-handed mustard vinaigrette that was more distracting then complementary. An order gets you two of these on silver dollar-sized wheat rolls, each topped with tangy house-made sauerkraut and a smear of pungent coarse-ground mustard, also made in-house. The flavorful, locally sourced pork is roasted, shredded and shaped into small patties. Take the pork knuckle, the uninvitingly named Bavarian specialty that almost sounds better in German: schweinshaxe. Where the Midtown location’s menu is snack-focused and light, The Grove’s repertoire has decidedly more swagger.
#URBAN CHESTNUT PMENU FULL#
With the expansion comes a full kitchen and new emphasis on food, notably German- and Western European-inspired fare made by chef Andrew Fair and designed for extended beer drinking. When it’s dead, it’s as lonely and sterile as Union Station. When it’s packed, the din rises to nerve-jangling levels. With its long rows of hefty wooden tables and bare benches, the cavernous room looks like the Hofbrauhaus went industrial. Four stainless-steel brewing tanks stand behind the sleek metal bar, which nearly stretches the length of the dining area. Florian Kuplent and David Wolfe, owners of Urban Chestnut Brewing Co., didn’t need a research study to understand the power of putting strangers together when they launched the 70,000-square-foot flagship brewery, warehouse, retail store, restaurant and German-style beer hall in The Grove’s renovated Renard Paper Company building early last year.įrom the aroma of fermenting mash to the high-ceilinged interior with its shiny concrete floors, there’s no mistaking this enormous place for anything but a brewery. Strangers who talk to each other on commuter trains are happier than those who plug in and tune out, according to a recent study by behavior researchers at the University of Chicago.
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