I’ve spent half my life chasing views, but there’s a specific, heart-stopping moment when the glass elevator clears the 70th floor and Detroit suddenly looks like a sprawling, neon-lit velvet carpet.
Dining at the city’s highest altitude isn’t just about the “skyline theater,” though that’s admittedly a showstopper; it’s about the fact that the kitchen actually has a pulse.
There is a quiet, considered rhythm to the room, a pacing that respects the view without letting your plate go cold, and a legendary burger that local insiders talk about with the kind of reverence usually reserved for religious relics…