Wright's Tavern (7624 Wydown Boulevard, Clayton; 314-390-1466.) serves a crab cake. This is less an observation than it is a flag in the ground marking this marvel of a restaurant as the only place in the Bi-State region that serves an actual crab cake — at least one that would not be laughed off Maryland's Eastern Shore.
Wright's version is no crab-cake-adjacent fritter or hushpuppy interspersed with paltry crab shreds but a shockingly simple assemblage of crab meat, brilliant because of what it doesn't contain as much as what it does. Colossal crab meat so fresh it tastes as if it was plucked from the sea that afternoon. A sprinkling of cracker crumbs and a touch of fresh cream, so light they are more gentle nudges than binders. A dusting of finely chopped chives and a few pieces of fresh parsley for verdant snap. Piquant remoulade that would pair just as well with chilled lump meat on a shellfish tower. No more. Certainly no less.
All you need to know about Wright's Tavern can be revealed by its crab cake. Or its Caesar salad, roast beef sandwich, ribeye or burger. Not to take away from the utterly glorious crab cake, but I could have written this opening about pretty much any menu item offered at Wright's because each and every offering distills the restaurant's raison d'etre: to serve dishes in their essential, perfect forms, then get out of their way.
It sounds like a simple enough plan. However, the ability to exercise such restraint is one born of the sort of expertise and maturity only acquired once you've mastered your craft and have nothing to prove because you've already proven it. This is Cary McDowell, a veritable legend of the city's culinary scene whose résumé includes working for Daniel Boulud in New York City before returning to St. Louis to open the Crossing with Jim Fiala. McDowell also opened the wonderful former spots Liluma and Revival, and served as the longtime corporate executive chef for Pi Pizzeria.
He also spent his free time playing around in the kitchen at the gone-but-never-forgotten King Louie's with owner Matt McGuire during its impactful run roughly two decades ago. The two became fast friends, bonding over a shared passion for hospitality and culinary excellence and always musing about one day doing a project together.
It would take roughly 23 years for that to materialize. While McDowell was doing his thing as a chef, McGuire was equally hard at work cultivating a reputation as St. Louis' preeminent hospitality pro. After King Louie's closed in 2007, McGuire went on to work for such brands as Niche Food Group before opening the acclaimed Louie on DeMun in 2017. If King Louie's established McGuire's position as one of the city's premier restaurateurs, Louie cemented it, which is why, when news broke that McGuire would be taking over the former I Frattelini space from fellow restaurant icon Zoe Robinson upon her retirement, the city waited with bated breath. Once word spread that McGuire had tapped McDowell as executive chef, it fell over itself.
That's for good reason, as Wright's Tavern stands not just as one of the best restaurants to open over the past year, but one of the brightest dining experiences of at least the past decade. This might seem like an interesting assertion on its face; after all, Wright's is a straightforward classic steakhouse (with the price tag to go with it) and not some bastion of culinary innovation that could define a new genre or push people to rethink food. However, I'd argue that this is precisely why Wright's is so successful. It can't hide behind bells and whistles but instead has to deliver flawlessly on the fundamentals of food and service upon which all else is built.
Consider the Tavern Caesar Salad, such utter perfection of the form you wonder why anyone would ever deviate from it. McDowell starts with crisp, chilled romaine and dresses it in anchovy-laden dressing, its rich flavor and mouthfeel countered by razor-sharp lemon. A blizzard of Parmigiano Reggiano, grated so finely it's positively fluffy, covers the salad so thoroughly you can't see the green of the leaves until you tuck in with your fork.
Scampi, too, is how God intended. The plump, jumbo shellfish are served sizzling hot, gilded in chile-spiked butter interspersed with innumerable garlic slices as thin as if they were hand-shaven by Paulie from Goodfellas. Perhaps the best part of the dish, though, is the bread, a rustic slice that soaks up the chile-garlic butter like a sponge while somehow retaining its crispness. The only rival to this bread-and-butter deliciousness is the actual bread service — complimentary slices of Union Loafers bread served alongside a cratered mountain of salted butter and olive oil that my dining companion aptly referred to as a "butter volcano." The pairing alone makes Wright's worth the visit.
Onion rings are a case study in texture: crisp, yet pillow-soft; firm enough to contain the perfectly softened sweet white onion slice, yielding so that the coating and onion melt together on the tongue. Fries, too, are extraordinary, the result of a highly involved process that results in thick strips with a golden brown exterior and an interior as soft as mashed potatoes.
Fries are served alongside Wright's sleeper masterpiece, the French Dip. Having waited months to score a reservation at a bastion of high-end dining, and now dressed in your finest, I can understand the temptation to refrain from ordering a mere ... sandwich. Resist this temptation. From the halved cloves of garlic that stud the mounds of juicy shaved meat to the perfectly crusty sesame loaf — so coated with the seeds that their nuttiness actually registers — and the havarti cheese that melts into it, the Dip is a stunner at every turn. And that's even before you dip it in the magical nectar McDowell calls au jus.
Though Wright's is, at its core, a steakhouse, the halibut is a worthy diversion. The gossamer fish is encrusted in thinly sliced potato rounds; when seared, they crisp up to form a magnificent golden crust. It's a wonderful choice if you can resist the pull of the steak options, which include a garlic-butter-encrusted sirloin served as steak frites, presented with marrow-enriched bordelaise, whose beauty is only rivaled by the accompanying dauphinoise potatoes. If their caramelized edges and layers of cream don't send you into a state of ecstasy, the ribeye will. This 18-ounce specimen of meaty perfection is flawlessly seared so that it gets a pleasantly bitter crust. The texture is a wonderful contrast to the marbled steak that McDowell pairs with mustard jus and velvety pommes puree to form one of the most memorable plates of meat you'll find within a 250-mile radius.
There's an unwavering commitment to the pursuit of perfection at Wright's, but it's not overly serious. Instead, the dining experience feels whimsical, even playful at times. Like dessert. Here, McDowell and his team give the people what they want: a wedge of wedding cake layered with silken almondy buttercream; a creme brulee so luxuriously custardy and bittersweet from the sugar crust that it borders on savory; an ice cream sundae with all the trimmings so over the top it seems designed to elicit squeals of joy. When that outrageously immense dessert is placed in front of you, you understand that McGuire and McDowell want you to have as much fun as they are. To exude that sort of ease while performing at a level so high is a powerful thing — and tells you even more about Wright's Tavern than that incomparable crab cake.
Wright's Tavern is open Monday through Thursday from 5 to 10 p.m.; Friday and Saturday 5 to 11 p.m. (Closed Sundays).Coming soon: Riverfront Times Daily newsletter. We’ll send you a handful of interesting St. Louis stories every morning. Subscribe now to not miss a thing.
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