The Luke is a little bit of everything. Located at the foot of the Taft Apartments on College Street, it was once a ballroom and now is home to bistro-style seating, ornate chandeliers and a sleek marble-topped bar. That bar, and its dollar oyster happy hour, drew us in from our Thursday classes.
Eager to dine on mollusks at bargain prices, we arrived at 4 p.m., only to discover that The Luke doesn’t open until 5. Undaunted, we ventured to a bar across the street to kill time, each slowly sipping a beer. At 5 p.m., The Luke opened its doors and we walked into a totally empty restaurant, with employees still setting up the dining room. There’s a strange gray area that exists when a restaurant is technically open, yet there are no customers and the staff is still preparing for the onslaught of dinner service. Sitting there, it feels as though you’re somewhere you shouldn’t be, but for those of us who have worked in the industry, perhaps it feels oddly comforting. The ritual of wiping down tables, organizing mise-en-place, and mentally preparing for the rush of service is a familiar ceremony.
At 5 p.m., we immediately ordered a dozen oysters without even looking at the menu—we knew what we were after; this trip had been on our calendar for a month. Usually happy hours make money by selling high-margin drinks and appetizers, so in an era of soaring food costs, dollar oysters are both a rare and exciting treat. We also ordered two of the seasonal martinis. Pear and warm spice might not be the most traditional flavors to accompany seafood, but at only $7 dollars any martini is pretty attractive.
Hitting an oyster and martini happy hour at 5 p.m. was our attempt to cosplay as adults—the kind of adults who wear navy sport jackets and have a drink immediately after work to take the edge off. Waiting for the oysters to be shucked, we soaked in the sounds of a kitchen prepping for service and the ornate space. As other patrons came in, we watched the restaurant transition from a hectic state of preparation to a calm, collected dinner service. The rock music blasting from the open kitchen faded into an easy listening dinner playlist. Floors wiped and tables set, The Luke was ready for the real adults to walk in.
Twelve oysters on a plate of cold, white navy beans appear in front of us, accompanied by a housemade sweet chili sauce. Far from the classic Tabasco or cocktail sauce, this thick, brick-red sauce lent the briny oysters a rounder sweetness and savory overtones. This choice of sauce is brilliant, highlighting the strengths of these particular oysters. All oysters have varying levels of sweetness, of brine—oyster liquor—and of chew. These oysters weren’t sweet, but were clean and well seasoned by their brine. Reviewing a restaurant’s oysters is a bit unusual. After all, there’s no recipe or cooking technique to analyze and critique. With oysters, it’s all about sourcing and shucking—both of which The Luke does well. The inclusion of a somewhat more irregular and unique accompanying sauce elevated these oysters beyond their briny simplicity.
It quickly became clear that The Luke knows how to do hospitality right. Without us ordering it, a warm loaf of soft bread appeared. The bread was paired with a chestnut compound butter and was a needed detour of rich, decadent food after the lightness of the oysters. Later, we were treated to small salted caramel chocolates. Between drinks, oysters, and these surprises, it was hard not to feel pampered. The level of hospitality for a happy hour experience sets The Luke above others in a town flush with happy hours.
