Review: At Shamus, reassured that housemade bread baskets yet persist

People who grew up on government cheese didn’t experience what you might call fully fledged restaurants until adulthood. The first time a server put a relish tray of radish roses, pickle spears, and California olives in the middle of my white tablecloth, I panicked.

“I didn’t order that,” I blurted, thinking of the bill.

“That’s OK, sweetheart,” she said, “It’s on the house.”

When a restaurant supplies you with the beginning to your meal without asking, it helps set a tone of hospitality. When its welcoming offering is high quality, it not only whets your appetite, but sharpens your interest in what other triumphs the menu may hold.

At Shamus, a Lockport landmark with 35 years, the breadbasket can be read as a declaration of intent. Baguette, crusty sourdough, and focaccia come with two jazzed-up butters and grassy green extra-virgin olive oil for dipping.

Under Ann Murphy and her family, Shamus has stayed the course, through massive industry changes and pandemic alike, to provide Lockportians with Friday night fish fries, Saturday night lamb shanks, and other necessaries. Shamus also has a bar crowd, attracted to its handsome bar room and extensive array of Irish-based medicinal cordials.

Murphy grew up working in restaurants, studied hospitality in college, then spent her life in the restaurant business. All four of her children have worked at Shamus.

Her son Robert graduated from Culinary Institute of America, then worked for restaurants in Maine and Manhattan, including two-Michelin-star Gabriel Kreuther. Five months ago, he came back to Lockport, becoming the number two kitchen person after veteran chef Dave Stoll.

Scratch cooking means appetizers like old-fashioned onion rings ($8), cut thick, buttermilk-brined and dredged in flour so they fry up to a robust crunch.

Roasted brussels sprouts ($12) arrive in a junior cast-iron skillet, with bacon, garlic, pickled red onions, and a dusting of parmesan.

Or maybe you just want bacon ($20), a thick crispy-edged slab glazed with bourbon apple cider reduction and served with a hash of sweet potato, peppers, and onion.

Blue-cheese-topped sirloin steak ($30) arrived beautifully rosy inside, as requested, each bite set against a backbeat of blues funk. Fish and chips ($19), Guinness-battered haddock fried to a golden crisp, with french fries, cole slaw and tartar sauce.

Desserts are made in-house too. That means the chocolate layer cake and carrot cake ($8) taste as good as they look.

There’s a reason I ask servers if the dessert is housemade. If it’s from Restaurant Depot I still might order the lemon pound cake – with my expectations set accordingly.

Peanut butter ice cream pie ($11) is a grown-up sundae treat, but it can’t compete with the sticky toffee pudding ($10), lavished with hot toffee sauce at table. Like everything else at Shamus, it was pulled off with nonchalant competence.

With homegrown independent restaurants increasingly threatened in today’s business climate, this is the time to go see places you would miss. Hopefully, Shamus will be there to feed us for another generation.

No one can accurately predict the future of the American restaurant business. But today, its outstanding values and increasingly rare housemade fundamentals suggest Lockport should be proud to have Shamus.