HopCat (Grand Rapids, MI) (Chain)

I tend to think of chain restaurants as inherently overpriced, peddling middling frozen swill to make up for corporate overhead and aggressive advertising budgets. HopCat bucks the trend.

For years, the craft beer industry in West Michigan felt like a an ever-cresting tsunami without end. The early decades of the twenty-first century brought phenomenal success, and profits, to dominant breweries like Founder’s (which sold a majority stake to a Spanish beer conglomerate in 2019) and Bell’s (which sold to a separate Japanese conglomerate in 2021).

The boom grew as hobbyists and hops-laden carpetbaggers chased trends and dollars, with the quality of their beer ranging from outstanding to uninspired. While the groundswell has slowed, and small breweries churn and flame out in an increasingly competitive market, Grand Rapids is still Beer City USA

The story of HopCat, a small brewpub chain established in 2008 that pioneered the model of an absurd number of craft beers on tap, is a good example of the changing winds. Once hailed for its beer and food alike, Hopcat expanded rapidly throughout Michigan and beyond before its owner, Barfly Ventures, filed for bankruptcy in 2020, followed by closures of locations in Royal Oak, Madison, Port St. Lucie, and elsewhere.

While it would be easy to attribute this to aggressive overexpansion and COVID-19, I believe this is only part of the story. As with breweries writ large, competition is growing, and HopCat is far from the only place in town offering bar-style food with local beer. With such bizarre moves as renaming the widely beloved “crack fries” as “cosmik fries” coupled with rising prices for increasingly basic fare, HopCat’s managed decline is partly due to circumstances, and partly due to choice.

Fundamentally, the food at HopCat is an incidental supplement to its brand, and absolutely plays second-fiddle to the beer. While I have dined many times at HopCat, both at their original location in downtown Grand Rapids and elsewhere, I had never tried their onion rings. And, whatever personal affinity or animosity I have for the rest of their menu and strategic decisions, that’s what Sola Cepa is all about.

Presentation and Appearance: (3/5)

HopCat is a chain the seems to exist more for the perpetuation of its own brand identity than serving food, a fact driven home by its logo emblazoned on the paper resting beneath these onion rings. Given the relative uniformity of appearance, with the exception of several racked onion rings, I’m certain these are the popular, albeit bad, Brew City frozen onion rings.

This is one of the better examples of how to cook frozen ilk, cracked rings aside. The aroma wafts past the metallic tray where the decently-sized side portion sits, and they are noticeably seasoned after the frying. They are certainly a better effort than the same frozen onion rings at other local haunts like Atwater Brewery or 5 Lakes Brew Pub, but that is an extremely low bar.

If I had to guess, I think HopCat followed the cooking instructions on the spec sheet (“Fry frozen product at 350°F for 2 to 2 1/2 minutes”) precisely, a good example of both the precision and lack of heart essential to this enterprise. Of course, that narrative is undercut by the stray French fry sitting at the bottom of the tray.

Taste: (2/5)

With frozen onion rings, much of the eating experience boils down to luck of the draw. I imagine most restaurants tip an arbitrary amount out of a plastic bag covered in ice crystals directly into the frier, not caring about size, shape, or distribution. These seem almost curated, like there was at least some amount of effort made in finding similar enough rings to make the fry time work.

Still, there’s only so much selection can do with frozen rings. Even with this relative uniformity and well-sized onion slices, the taste is disappointing, mothing but a vague hint of sweetness. There’s so little flavor in the greasy onion juices that the batter, which is somewhat flavorful, almost entirely steals the show, but it’s more like the tech rehearsal of a community college production of Annie than something you would actually want to pay to see.

This is a rare instance where I think these onion rings are screaming for some kind of dipping sauce, but alas, there is none.

Texture: (3.5/5)

The biggest ding to texture is the cracked onion rings. The fractured halo is a clear sign of haste, lack of care, or both. Most of the onion rings on the tray are intact, and the onion is thick and meaty, moist without being too wet and relatively rigid. Likewise, the batter is smooth and consistent, and there are no signs of slippage, not even in the cracked rings.

Value: (3.5/5)

I tend to think of chain restaurants, particularly those (like HopCat) that were acquired by private equity firms in 2020, as inherently overpriced, peddling middling frozen swill to make up for corporate overhead and aggressive advertising budgets. HopCat bucks the trend with this side order of onion rings coming in at $3.50, which is a downright reasonable price for the quantity and execution, if not for the weak and underperforming flavor.

These are about the best one could reasonably hope for with frozen onion rings, particularly a variety that is nigh ubiquitous, but they mostly serve to inoculate the stomach to weather another round.

Total: (12/20)