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It’s considered a crazy idea to go to a nightclub for a decent meal. Certainly, whatever’s coming out of that kitchen in Boogie Nights doesn’t look so good. Dorchester Social Eatery, in the heart of Market Street’s nightilfe scene, is pairing a clubby atmosphere with a menu that name-checks all four corners of the globe. A trip around the world at happy hour helped me decide which part of Dorchester’s name is more important: “Social,” or “Eatery.”
Dorchester is like a nitrous canister of Vegas cool, with flashy fixtures, intricate paneling and enough mirrors and Greco-Roman statuary to make Tony Montana blush. It’s not just aspirational design; on Fridays and Saturdays the expansive dining area around the corner turns into Privé Social Club, an LED-glazed dance party. But the most notable thing about Dorchester is its rooftop patio, with a bar, plenty of seating and a view of the LoDo madness. I had hoped to lounge above it all on my sunny visit, but the roof was closed for a private event and, even worse, everyone there was clearly having the time of their lives. I sulked to the downstairs bar, hoping that happy hour specials would balm the sting.
Offered from 3 to 6 p.m. every Tuesday through Saturday, the happy hour board pairs a few light drink specials with mid-priced snacks. The restaurant’s stated culinary philosophy is to make share-able plates for a whole table to sample, so a happy hour feels natural. Drafts of Budweiser and Imperial beer are three bucks, with wells for $5. Much the dinner and lunch menu appears here in miniature form — dishes from five continents arranged in the kind of pan-fusion style that is capital-H Hip these days.
An order of South American chicken lollipops ($7) didn’t grab me as much as Dorchester’s interior did. (Why does every Milennial-chasing restaurant boast meat ‘lollipops?’) But there was nothing exotic about the hearty amount of Frenched (the fancy way of describing the lollipop effect), fried chicken dunked in a brown sauce that lacked character. But more surprises were in store. Even though it’s boring on paper, the wild mushroom crostini ($3) was a satisfying little snack, with a tender mushroom ragu on top of a buttery, crispy flatbread. And if there’s any sausage deserving of having a moment, it’s lamb merguez, which is featured on the Moroccan kefta sliders ($4 each). I’m glad the kitchen didn’t get the message that sliders are, like, totally 2007. Amplified by a bit of harissa aioli and goat cheese, this bite lived up to the international theme.
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Dorchester is trying to have its cake, eat it and supply it with VIP bottle service, too. Even though I was a bit befuddled by my entire experience, friendly service and some interesting flavors shone through. What Dorchester really wants to be is a question that probably gets answered much later than 6 p.m., leaving happy hour a pleasantly confusing time before the real party starts.
Perfect for: Is 4 p.m. too early to start pre-gaming for a night of clubbing? That all depends on how hard you want to go, but watching the sunset from Dorchester’s roof feels like a good way to start. And in any case, the bar stocks enough Red Bull to keep the whole block going all night.
Don’t miss: Adding to the confusion, one of Dorchester’s specialties is pie. A slice of sweet potato ginger pie ($8), made with a non-traditional flaky pastry crust, had a pleasant, thick spiciness. However, no one has the right to charge $8 for a tiny slice of pie. The mysteries continue.
