2 days ago
Highly Opinionated: Detroit's Most Exquisite Tartares
It's no secret that Detroit has a love affair with beef — from the fresh, regenerative ground meat smash burgers made at Melway Burgers to the classic chili that slathers the coney dogs at Duly's. But as a recent transplant to the city, I was surprised to learn just how much raw meat is consumed here. You can't go too far in Detroit without encountering an exciting riff on steak tartare or a classic kibbeh nayeh (raw lamb or beef mixed with bulgar wheat). In fact, when I describe Detroit's restaurant scene to friends across the country, it's not the coney dog or Detroit-style pizza that I suggest is this city's signature dish — it's steak tartare.
Raw meat links prestigious new American restaurants like Selden Standard, Grey Ghost, and Mabel Gray. Tartare graces the menus at steakhouses both old and new, whether at the historic London Chop House or at the stylish, modern Wilder's in Birmingham. Tartare is a common thread among restaurants with a focus on ethical sourcing like Ladder 4 and Marrow. Raw meat is also ingrained in Detroit's vast Arab American community, where at Lebanese restaurants the aforementioned kibbeh nayeh is a fixture. To put it simply, Detroit is tartare city, whether people recognize it as such or not.
I've been a resident of Detroit for more than a year now, and I have sampled many different types of tartare in that time. It's one of those dishes where if I see it on the menu, I have to try it (if for no other reason than to further this growing hypothesis that Detroit is tartare central). There are an infinite number of ways to enjoy the dish, but here are a few that I keep coming back to.
I grew up in a small, Western Pennsylvania town where Levantine cuisine is prominent. In fact, there's a neon sign hanging at my favorite six pack bar and to-go restaurant that reads, 'Lamb & Smelts.' Summer cookouts weren't just hot dogs and hamburgers; they were also skewered legs of lamb, toum, and pita bread. Sunday dinners in my mostly Italian family meant pasta, but my Greek grandmother also made sure that stuffed grape leaves and fried kibbeh were on the table.
From a culinary standpoint, moving to Detroit felt like home, but it felt more exciting , too. The vastness of Levantine cuisine is on full display here, and Leila is a restaurant that I've absolutely adored since moving to the city. It's one of those special places a traveler can point to and go, 'There's not many restaurants like this in the country.'
Leila's kibbeh nayeh is prepared relatively traditionally — a mix of finely minced raw lamb, bulgar wheat, and spices spread flat on a small plate, dragged with a fork, and topped with chopped onions and mint. What's so interesting about Leila's raw kibbeh is how it's engineered : Small, slivered cups of white onion surround the dish, and act as a vessel to scoop and pile the raw meat. A small slice of jalapeño, a delicate leaf of fresh mint, and bam — you have everything you need in one single, clean bite. Another reason Leila rocks: Upon request, you can ask for a bottle of olive oil for the table. A little drizzle into each kibbeh filled onion cup makes the experience even more luxurious. Do as the Lebanese do, and enjoy kibbeh nayeh with Arak, a potent, anise-flavored drink made cloudy when it connects with water (or ice cubes). It's a smooth and aromatic accompaniment.
I'm not a huge fan of bone marrow. Something about it feels particularly gluttonous and macabre. But chef Javier Bardauil doesn't paint with broad strokes. The multi-time James Beard semifinalist has gotten national recognition over the years for his dedication to live-fire cooking and Argentine-influenced creations, but he doesn't nearly get enough credit for how he wields acid.
Everything at Barda stings with lovely acidity. The scallop ceviche features sour green apples and a deeply flavorful leche de tigre. Barda's wreath-shaped zucchini ceviche in the summer is delicate, but bright and mouth-smacking, and his chimichurri lacerates through the char of thickly cut, wood-fired steaks. There's a lovely dichotomy to the food at Barda — it is all at once carnal and virtuous.
Take the steak tartare. Here, the high-quality beef is mixed and marbled with capers, cilantro stems, whole-grain mustard, and finely minced jalapeño. A pile of sharp horseradish is grated on top for good measure. The dish comes served classically with slabs of grilled sourdough toast brushed with tallow, and a thick log of roasted bone marrow for scooping out gelatinous tissue. Javier's use of tangy, piquant ingredients tame the meatiness of his tartare, one that uses three different kinds of beef — ground, tallow, and marrow. Even as I think about it right now, I can taste the sharpness of this spectacular dish. It's one of the city's best.
The first time I visited Selden Standard was mere days after I moved to the city in April of 2024. Alone, at the bar, I had a seasonal orecchiette pasta dish with anchovy, lemon, rapini, and stracciatella that just totally blew me away. I also enjoyed a tartare served with endive, a wonderful deviation from the standard toast points. Indeed, the vessels for Selden's tartare change often, but I had recently encountered a great one served with tangy, homemade sourdough.
At Selden, the dishes rotate with the seasons, ingredient availability, and whims of the chefs in the kitchen. One thing you can count on, however, is a damn good steak tartare, which is always on the menu in some form or another. This one, enjoyed in May, simply featured raw beef, egg jam, and marinated onions. But oh, it's so much more than that. The raw beef has beef fat mixed in with it, and the onions are caramelized and then marinated with fish sauce, sherry vinegar, and extra virgin olive oil. It comes plated with fresh parsley, chives, and tarragon, making this one of the more herby steak tartares I've ever had the pleasure of experiencing. There's many different flavors here, but they all sing the same hymn — praise be to the church of raw beef. See More:
