Cuisine: American
Bar Type: Cocktails
When this was first brought up as a possible dinner destination I misheard it as Dutch Friends. And I was like, aw, those giant goobers want to make some buddies! Funny enough, one of our dinner compatriots is actually of Dutch ancestry. And quite tall. With one of those surnames with a little letter, then a space, and then a big letter. When I figured out it’s actually called Dutch Fred’s, I was both disappointed, and also further confused. Is this like a Ruth’s Chris situation? Turns out, no, it’s named after some cop, nicknamed Dutch Fred, who accidentally gave the restaurant’s neighborhood, Hell’s Kitchen, its devilish name. At least that’s the story this joint’s website tells.
Thing is, the grub is not Dutch. Not a cuisine I’m familiar with, but which I assume is just kind of German without the side of fascism. No, it’s pretty much a menu of what has become American food. Which, to my mind — at least in NYC — is a mix of bar bites, Italian-related foodstuffs and a couple Asian or Tex-Mex things. You know the drill. But, yeah, the menu isn’t going to break any new ground, nor does it seemingly aspire to. Honestly, our meal was a bit of a shared hodgepodge. Which I guess some folks like to do, but isn’t necessarily my normal ordering style. It’s the only child in me. People also love ordering pork product, which is generally a no-go for me based solely on not liking ham-adjacent, pork belly or sausagey meats. Which are always part of this ordering style. So, of course, we started with a cheese & charcuterie board. To my eye, the meats seemed underwhelming, but I didn’t partake. The cheese was fine, but nothing interesting or stinky or otherwise. We also got fries. Fries are rarely not good (except at In-N-Out) and these were no different — fried and salty in all the best ways. I can eat a mess of fries — especially when I’m not eating the pink meat. Pause. We also got an arugula flatbread, which amounted to a thin, not-really-pizza thing with goat cheese, mozzarella, parmesan, sun dried tomatoes and lettuce on it. Sorry, arugula. Which is just basically peppery lettuce, and not something I’d normally put on a pizza-not-pizza type thing. Though it was honestly kinda tasty. We ordered one other thing that Ms. Hipster remembers as “kind of long and tubular.” But other than that alluring description, neither of us can remember what it was.
I think the main point here is that folks don’t really come here for the food. While it’s serviceable, it’s not really the star. I think — if I were a younger man — that the atmosphere is their thing. It has that cool, downtown weathered French brasserie feel with lots of tile and hard surfaces. The lighting is low to the point of old eyes needing our iPhone flashlights or, in my case, some guessing when viewing the small-print menu. The vibe is bustling, inebriated young urban sophisticate. Or, you know, what we used to call yuppies. But, mostly, it’s just loud. Which is honestly not a complaint, just a thing that happens when a younger crowd with their better hearing and non-abused lungs gather in a relatively low-ceilinged environment with not a whole lot of sound dampening. I think this is also mostly a bar that happens to serve grub and not really the other way around. They specialize in cocktails, which I suppose most places do these days. My Manhattan was decent, though their puny beer list leaves something to be desired. Anyhow, I’d say it’s a pretty typical cooler city bar / restaurant, but with a relatively distinctive aesthetic sense of self. I would come back, but this time I’m ordering the damned fish tacos like I wanted.
307 W 47th St. (bet 8th & 9th Ave.)
646/918-6923
dutchfreds.com
