Twisted Fork Grille, the latest entry in the fresh-and-affordable niche, has an impressive pedigree. Several Green Mill folks act as landlord and owner (the restaurant and the Green Mill share a front door, and that's about it). Stephen Trojahn, formerly of Cosmos, worked as a consultant. They had the good sense to hire Keven Kvlasten to oversee the kitchen. Kvalsten, a vet of Corner Table and the former Green Room, is using this venue to demonstrate how eating local isn't synonymous with shelling out lots of dough.
This isn't one of those chatty menus that brands the contributions of every last farm, right down to the source of the parsley garnish, so it's tough to discern for certain the percentage of the menu culled from family farms vs. how much came off the back of a wholesaler's truck. But the food's local roots jump out in so many obvious ways that it's clear Kvalsten isn't paying lip service to locavores. One example: the cool, satisfying flavor of gold and red beets, sliced and layered between herbed chevre and drizzled with a garden-fresh vinaigrette. It's an entree-sized foray into Minnesota farm country for just $9.
The "twist" of the title refers to Kvalsten's detours through familiar territory. Thin-cut, crunchy chips are made with sweet potatoes, not Idaho Russets. Instead of chicken wings, he dolls up plump, meaty legs, glazing them with a maple-kissed barbecue sauce or a teasingly spicy honey-chile glaze. Rather than the ubiquitous crab, he turns to walleye, tossing in a little red pepper, celery and bread crumbs and frying them into terrific little cakes. A fried egg, a slice of provolone and a few creamy wedges of avocado ramp up the delicious factor on a BLT sandwich.
Decent-sized shrimp are folded into wide-cut tubes of penne, drenched in a lively cheese sauce and sprinkled with crisp, buttery bread crumbs, a semi-luxe take on mac-and-cheese. He puts some sizzle into a lower-priced cut of steak, marinading it with garlic and rosemary to accentuate the beef's timid flavor and pairing it with perfectly braised Swiss chard. Kvalsten reinterprets boring old Cobb salad, tossing gently smoked walleye with wild rice and field greens. His most inspired idea is a poblano-laced bison meatloaf, its slow-burn kick a welcome surprise.
Are any of these dishes revelations? No, but Kvalsten is managing to offer creatively presented, solidly prepared twists -- there's that word again -- on workaday fare. Portions are more than generous, and prices rarely peek above $11.99. Most neighborhood joints wouldn't attempt a dish like Kvalsten's juicy, pan-seared scallops, resting on polenta and tangy wilted greens and finished with a zesty tomato broth, let alone charge just $12 for it. Or a terrific roast chicken with a rich mushroom risotto for the same price. Or a meal-sized bowl of creamy carrot soup, every vividly orange spoonful popping with feisty ginger accents, for just $4.99.
Desserts do the job, but aren't a high point. A too-runny crème brûlée had a lovely lavender bite, and I'd skip over the dull flourless chocolate cake in favor of the far livelier strawberry bread pudding.
Breakfast -- served until 3 p.m. daily -- puts a similarly appealing tweak on old favorites. Buttermilk pancakes, thick, wide and golden brown, are best when dressed with bright lemon zest and fresh blueberries. A hearty hash, finished with peppers, poached eggs, savory slow-roasted pork and a creamy cheese sauce, would be the star attraction at an upscale truck stop. Huevos rancheros boast a clean, light taste. Elvis Presley would have been all over the French toast filled with peanut butter and topped with sweetly caramelized bananas, and a build-your-own omelet offers more than two dozen nicely sourced options.
