This is one of the best restaurants to open in recent memory.
Nestled inside a renovated 19th-century cottage house, The Franklin takes you back to the 19th-century oyster boom — when oysters were an affordable delicacy and a linchpin in American dining — back to early country architecture, and back to the lost art of dining with intention. While I certainly felt charmed by the building’s bespoke, Old World captivation, it’s The Franklin’s commitment to simple yet elegant dining that’s charmed me most.
The interior feels like a warm lodge where a weary traveler finds refuge after a long trek out in the snow. The building itself is a historic carriage house. It’s refurbished, yes, but not in a way that feels telegraphed or too modern. The lighting is just right, resting in this sort of one-size-fits-all sweet spot — not so bright that things feel sterile and not too dark that the restaurant feels like it’s hiding something.
The interior conjures feelings of a mountain inn or a log cabin illuminated by a roaring fireplace. The music is soft but distinct; people’s voices match the tune both in softness and intimacy. The Franklin is both a place for close conversation and roving interaction.
This unique eatery rests in the village of Franklin in Oakland County. With a population not eclipsing 3,000 people, it reads like an old Amish town or a hilly, coastal neighborhood in Maine. Franklin is known for its historic structures, estates, and, of course, Franklin Cider Mill. It’s also named after Benjamin Franklin, so there are some clear New England roots here. Those roots serve as the restaurant’s overarching theme, a concept that executive chef Nick Geftos captures beautifully with his food.
“We dug into the roots of Franklin,” says Geftos. “Dating back to the mid-1800s, the village was founded by people from New England. What we were finding was that people from the East Coast had missed their oysters. So either on a train or [by using] horse and buggy, they would pack oysters with chunks of ice and hay. And they had these oyster suppers here.”
Effectively, Geftos and team have brought these large oyster get-togethers back to the village. The oyster bar concept isn’t a dart thrown at a board; it’s pure Franklin — a smart way to honor its history. The legend of this small town lives on so long as this cozy oyster bar remains open.
And you will want to order oysters at The Franklin, which features a daily selection of East and West Coast, the latter of which are becoming increasingly difficult to find in southeast Michigan. On this particular night, each of the West Coast oysters hail from Washington: Chelsea gems are briny and sweet, Miramichi have a full-body and cool, melon-y flavor, and Blue Pools carry a hint of sweetness. Very few restaurants in metro Detroit offer West Coast oysters, so diners will want to take advantage. The selections rotate, but expect six (three East Coast, three West Coast) to be available at all times.
With oysters on the brain, Geftos has created an entire menu meant to honor this raw delicacy. Think a supporting cast of fish and chips, a burger, smoked sturgeon, steamed mussels, lobster rolls, and fries. In fact, my main thesis about The Franklin is that it’s one of the best restaurants in southeast Michigan for fried food.
The fish and chips features a few filets of fried Icelandic haddock, a crunchy Savoy cabbage coleslaw, and potatoes fried so crispy that they crunch and pop in your mouth. I spoke with Geftos specifically about his potatoes, which are brined in salt and vinegar, then fried twice, much like you would approach a french fry. “If this is how the chef cares for his potatoes, imagine how he treats the rest of the menu,” I immediately thought.
More fried food abounds with precision, imagination, and good fun. The fried mushrooms are a phenomenal appetizer, each one meaty and juicy, while the breading holds its delightfully brittle crust. The side of French onion dip here, perhaps a nod to the legendary packets of Lipton onion dip, packs a wallop of umami flavor. “Dedication to simple food means there are no misses,” Geftos tells me. And miss, The Franklin does not.
A sturgeon plate arrives — meaty, tender slivers of smoked fish taste luxurious and smoldering. The sturgeon sits opposite some buttery Hatch chile cornbread and an array of pickled peppers like the tear-shaped Sweety Drops and the lesser-known Feferoni, both of which provide some brightly acidic balance. Enjoy the trio all at once or graze separately on all three.
Every dish at The Franklin seems like a rare find. Take the Pemaquid mussels, which hail from the pristine waters of Down East Maine on the Canadian border. Geftos admits that the Pemaquid mussels are a bit of a boutique item, but I must say that they aren’t esoteric for the sake of being esoteric. Plump, juicy, clean, and surprisingly fresh, each of the Pemaquid mussels are a rare, bivalve jewel, served with a white wine and butter sauce, clusters of seasoned sausage (I hesitate to call the sausage spicy, but it packs heat), and a buttered and browned piece of soft Texas toast. The move here is to rip the bivalve in half, dip the mussel-filled part into the buttery broth, then shoot the whole thing like an oyster. No utensils needed.
Oh, and if the baked Alaska is any indication, then you might want to “full send” the dessert menu, depending on how many dining companions join your table. Here, a classic dessert gets a brilliantly thoughtful upgrade with a hazelnut, cardamom, and orange anglaise at its center, an envelope of torched meringue, and some candied orange for a garnish. The meringue insulates the anglaise with the efficiency of a chest freezer, as the floral, frozen center is cold, refreshing, and invigorating. The whole dessert balances delicately atop a coin-sized brown butter blondie. I’ve been telling everyone who will listen about the baked Alaska. It has its hooks in me. I’d even say that it haunts me.
For drinks, I recommend the oyster bar martini, a freezer martini of sorts, with chilled vodka, a Fino sherry wash, and a briny, anchovy-stuffed olive for snacking — smooth and wonderful, classic and modern, like everything housed within these refurbished walls. Enjoy the cocktail list, but you’ll want to weave through the list of wines, too. Rosé goes particularly well with some of the fried options, and effervescence is always in order when enjoying raw oysters.
The Franklin has restored some of my faith in restaurants, in insightful concepts and honest ideas. It’s got flavors for everybody here and even more surprises up its sleeve. The menu will experiment with new dishes frequently. As of this writing, Chef Geftos has been playing with a hearty seafood shepherd’s pie that’s been on special, though I get the sense it’s going to graduate to the main menu soon.
If you like oysters and coastal seafood, you’ll leave here happy. Hell, even if you don’t, The Franklin still has the power to win you over with its non-seafood options.
Toward the end of the meal, “Run-Around” by Blues Traveler poured through the restaurant’s well-hidden speakers. As the joyous notes of a harmonica floated through the air, I imagined what those early oyster suppers must have been like, how New England settlers in Franklin gathered to enjoy each other’s company, and how this very building realizes and honors that tradition today. The Franklin invites you to walk through a time portal, and once you do, you won’t want to come back.
At a Glance
Price: $$$
Vibe: Cozy and intimate
Service: Fair
Sound level: Medium
Dress code: None
Open: 4-10 p.m. Tuesday through Friday, 10 a.m.-1 p.m. Saturday and Sunday, 4-11 p.m. Saturday, 4-9 p.m. Sunday; closed Monday
Reservations: Book on Resy
Parking: Back lot parking available
Valet: None
Accessibility: Wheelchair accessible
This story originally appeared in the April 2026 issue of Hour Detroit magazine. To read more, pick up a copy of Hour Detroit at a local retail outlet. Click here to get our digital edition.
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