The buzz around Grand Rapids’ culinary scene has reached a new high with the debut of Allora — a coastal Italian restaurant that marks a bold reimagining of the space formerly known as Reserve. Known once for its expansive wine list and eclectic menu, the restaurant has found new focus and flavor in the sun-soaked traditions of Italy’s seaside kitchens.
On Tuesday, April 22, community leaders, partners, and invited guests gathered at the gateway to Lyon Square for the ribbon-cutting ceremony of Allora. The event marked the official opening of the coastal Italian restaurant and signaled a fresh chapter for one of downtown Grand Rapids’ most prominent dining spaces.
Owned by Dick and Betsy DeVos, Allora offers a refined yet approachable dining experience that blends the essence of Italy’s coastal regions with the best of Michigan’s local bounty. Executive Chef Luke VerHulst has curated a menu that is both deeply rooted in tradition and unafraid of innovation. Each If you ever dined at Reserve, you’ll recognize the bones of the space, but Allora is a reimagining, not a resurrection. The upstairs seating is gone, and the bar has been moved to face Monroe, opening up the dining room and offering a front row seat to the city’s street life. The space is now bright and airy, sophisticated but not overly formal, with design choices that feel both modern and timeless.
And now, the part you’ll appreciate most: the meal.
Getting a reservation was my first challenge. If you’re planning to dine before a show at DeVos Performance Hall (and let’s be honest, many of us are), you’ll want to book well in advance. I secured a 6:15 p.m. reservation for a night with a packed house next door—a tight timeline before an 8 o’clock curtain, but the Allora staff managed it beautifully.
From the moment we were seated, the service was smooth, confident, and warm. Our server suggested we order everything up front so the kitchen could time the courses appropriately. It was a wise call, and it made the evening feel effortless.
To start, we opted for cocktails. I went with the Frizzante, a playfully complex blend of luxardo sour cherry, agricole rhum, pomelo, aloe sciroppo, absinthe, egg white, and soda water. It was bright and herbaceous with a clean finish. My date ordered the Garibaldi Gigante—bitters, fluffy blood orange juice, saffron, peachcello, Galliano, and smoked sea salt. His was somehow richer and more playful at the same time. I didn’t want to like it more than mine, but I did.
Our appetizer was the Frittura Mista—a delicate basket of lightly battered and flash fried squid, shrimp, and fresh catch, served with a lemon aioli and a tangy, tartar like sauce that was far more refined than any fish fry standard. It was modest in size but perfectly portioned to awaken the palate.
I had already tasted a bite of Allora’s Grilled Grassfed Filet Mignon on a previous occasion, and I’d been dreaming about having a full portion ever since. I’m not usually a filet person—the texture often leaves me cold—but this dish changed my mind. It arrived with a peppery arugula and gorgonzola dolce salad, heirloom polenta, and a pomegranate balsamic black butter vinaigrette. It was tender, beautifully seared, and luxurious without being heavy.
My date chose the Pollo allo Spiedo—roasted heritage chicken with lemon and rosemary braised beans, lacinato kale, and roasted Pebble Creek mushrooms. Given that we were deep into morel season, we’d been on a casual hunt for the elusive mushroom ourselves. While none appeared on the plate, the earthy, umami forward flavor of the dish hit all the right notes.
Midway through our meal, a Caesar salad floated past on a tray headed for another table, and I nearly flagged down the server to add one to our order on the spot. I’m a sucker for anchovies, and this one looked textbook perfect—bright, briny, and generously dressed. Next time.
We closed the evening with Tiramisu for Two, which I can say—without even a flicker of hyperbole—was the best I’ve ever had. I make a pretty proud version myself, especially around the holidays, but this one had me reevaluating everything. Light as air, deeply espresso forward, and delicately balanced, it was the perfect ending. We were also treated to a couple of amuse bouches that paired beautifully with dessert, small surprises that capped the meal with finesse.
As someone who has eaten my way across parts of Italy and plenty of so called “Italian” spots closer to home, I can honestly say Allora ranks among the best. And while I didn’t try the pasta on this visit, the plates of neighboring diners had me second guessing my choices. The tagliatelle with pork ragù, San Marzano tomatoes, bull’s horn peppers, Calabrian chile, and 36 month aged Parmigiano Reggiano is high on my list for next time—ideally paired with a glass (or bottle) of the 2020 Andrea Felici ‘Riserva Il Cantico’ Verdicchio from Marche.
The wine list, by the way, remains a focal point—clearly a nod to Reserve’s enduring legacy. It’s deep, well curated, and smartly organized, with a strong emphasis on regional Italian wines. And for those wondering: yes, oysters on the half shell are still on the menu.
Allora doesn’t just serve food—it delivers a story, told plate by plate with elegance and intention. It’s a place where the art of hospitality is taken seriously, where every detail has been considered, and where the line between fine dining and relaxed conversation dissolves.
Will I return? Without a doubt. Allora has carved out something truly special in the heart of Grand Rapids. And just like the word it’s named after, it leaves me lingering, expectant, wondering: And then…? I can’t wait to find out.
