Why aspire? Hamilton’s aims to elevate the familiar in Corktown

Hamilton’s at the Godfrey Hotel gives what it promises: “familiar food” and “the dishes you love.” Familiar “doesn’t necessarily mean pedestrian,” asserts the culinary team. Of course, the goal is “unforgettable versions” of such classics as fish and chips, a cheeseburger, Cobb salad, roast chicken, and steak.

So you know going in that this hotel restaurant is not reaching for the stars; it’s not aspirational — except in its prices. The menu implies that Hamilton’s is a respite for the weary business traveler who is just going to eat downstairs and watch TV in the room before turning in, rather than seeking the pleasures of Detroit nightlife.

That said, the chef does the familiar dishes well, sometimes with a small, if not “unforgettable,” fillip.

Fish and chips, for example, have a tender batter that’s not soggy or heavy, though the fish itself is not distinguishable from that in humbler establishments. It comes with both a sharp tartar and a creamy malt-and-vinegar sauce, plus some non-gloppy red-cabbage slaw. The chips are an excellent, crisp version of potato pavé. So yes — in this case, the kitchen does reach beyond the commonplace.

The pesto casarecce (short twists of pasta with basil, peas, and favas) is decent but nothing like homemade, and in my opinion, we should not grate our Parmesan so fine that it looks like Kraft. Use the larger holes on the grater! There’s more flavor that way.

A $19 double-patty smashburger with Colby hit the spot; we were warned that it would be grilled medium well, as the thin patties could not help but cook through. The lemony house-made mayo was the most notable accessory. Likewise, the server advised of the salmon that “the chef does it medium,” but it was not overcooked. I’d call it almost medium rare with a good crisp crust, some turnip puree, and a tangle of chard.

I would not pay $36 for roast chicken in anyone’s restaurant (maybe if it had some Michelin stars), nor did we assay the $65 6-ounce filet or the Creekstone Farms ribeye at market price. The chef does a good job with three small scallops, just browned enough, and even better with melt-in-the-mouth tuna tartare on crisp toast, decorated with little circles of jalapeño. These appetizers are appetizer size, doing their job of setting you up for the next course.

Salads are the usual, from mixed greens to kale and quinoa, down to the candied walnuts, but I love a roasted beet salad with two kinds of beets, tender baby arugula, a few orange slices, and a bit of burrata. Its dressing is far above the heavy restaurant norm. An everything biscuit is dusted with everything-bagel toppings and goes for — wait for it — $9 for three. The “umami” butter that promised a punch actually has less flavor than normal butter.

The dessert menu sticks to the tried and true as well: chocolate cake, a sundae (but then a strawberry-margarita sorbet). A scoop of vanilla ice cream on your cake will set you back $6. The few bites of Key lime pie I was served were lavender-infused, tart and delightful, if not shareable.

Service at Hamilton’s is consistently friendly. When I wavered about ordering humo y espejos (smoke and mirrors), a mezcal cocktail, the server assured me she’d take it back if I didn’t like it. I didn’t want to be a brat, but… She switched it for an extra sparkly, stone-cold Prosecco. Other cocktails lean toward bitter — lots of amaro — but there’s always Stiggin’s It to the Man, with Plantation Stiggins’ pineapple rum.

A pre-opening press release described Hamilton’s as “a vibrant neighborhood tavern”; there’s no hint of a tavern vibe, nor does the understated decor, in shades of gray, evoke “neighborhood.” It’s quietly tasteful in a minimalist way, unfancy, with cloth napkins, bare tables, and plain silverware. Floor-length windows showcase the action across the street at Nemo’s and Ottava Via. Servers wear aprons with the Carhartt logo to commemorate a previous business on the site: a clothing factory owned by Hamilton Carhartt.

Hamilton’s is run by Chickpea Hospitality, which also owns Forest and Phoenicia in Birmingham and Leila (upscale Middle Eastern) in downtown Detroit. It’s not going to upend the Corktown dining scene, but it does add to the regrettable trend to ask for prices in the stratosphere. Those on the boss’s dime, enjoy!