
An American menu of steaks & seafood served in a historic, mahogany-&-copper-accented space.
Hours
| Friday | 11:30 AM–10 PM |
| Saturday | 5–10 PM |
| Sunday | 4–9 PM |
| Monday | 11:30 AM–9:30 PM |
| Tuesday | 11:30 AM–9:30 PM |
| Wednesday | 11:30 AM–9:30 PM |
| Thursday | 11:30 AM–9:30 PM |
Address and Contact Information
Address: 8905 Lake Ave #1, Cleveland, OH 44102
Phone: (216) 961-6700
Website: http://www.donslighthouse.com/
Menu Photos
Order and Reservations
Reservations: donslighthouse.comopentable.com
Photo Gallery
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Reviews
Service and atmosphere was great. We had a very attentive and helpful server that gave us recommendations and checked on us often. Elegant restaurant that has a nice and fancy vibe to it. Great for date nights and special occasions.
We sampled and found really good tasting wines. Made note and will purchase those wines in the future for casual drinking at home.
We started with the complimentary bread and butter. Bread has hot out of the oven and tasted fresh. Also very soft. A+ on the bread. Same with the crab cake for an appetizer. Very small portion of just 1 crab cake, but favor was everything you could want when ordering a crab cake.
Moving into the entree is where I marked them down on food. The main course of the meal(Steak, Walleye, Scallops) were excellent for all parties of our table. The problem was the sides were very lacking. My red potatoes were undercooked and hard. They just seemed basic with no added flavors. My green beans were cooked properly, but it was steamed green beans with zero flavor. They were just plain. Same with the corn mix. The sides need more flavor whether it’s coming from a seasoning or sauce.
We finished our meal off with bread pudding. Didn’t get a picture of this, but it tasted solid. I try bread pudding at any restaurant that offers it and felt this was mostly a flavored bread with ice cream on it. Not much of the creamy pudding to be a real bread pudding. But it was good for what it was.
Overall, I do recommend trying this place.
Service: 4 stars because our waitress lacked personality. Her name was Carolyn. She was nice, just extremely flat! We asked her opinion on what to order between scampi and steak oscar, and she was like “Nope. Im not making that decision.” Ummmm we wanted an opinion Carolyn. I guess I’ve just never had a waitress not be able to tell me about the food when I ask their opinion. Weird but ok. She got 4 stars because she gave us everything we ordered or asked for in a timely manner, it was just that personality gap that ruined our interactions.
I ordered my steak well done. It wasn’t well-well but it wasn’t pink enough for me to send back. It was still good and tender. My side items were mashed and green beans. Very good. A friend of mine ordered short rib and it was the real star of the show. It was soooooo good and juicy. The demi glaze that covered it was even better. I will definitely order that the next time. We all left there very, very full.
Atmosphere was chill. My friend sat at the bar beforehand because our reservations were at 5pm. Bar service and attendant was amazing! Personable. Fun without trying to hard. And sitting next to people with those same attributes. Don’s is a win (except Carolyn). She needs a drink.
At Don’s Lighthouse Grille, lunch is more than a meal—it’s a conversation with the past, served with a side of nostalgia and a damn good French Onion Soup.
I found myself at Don’s Lighthouse Grille in Cleveand, OH yesterday for lunch—a place I used to haunt more than a decade ago. Same corner, same familiar hum of Lake Avenue traffic outside, same faint smell of butter and heat that clings to a place with a real kitchen. I slid onto a barstool and ordered the old standby: the Lunch Duet—French Onion Soup and a Wedge Salad.
The soup arrived in a crock, molten and unapologetic. A thick cap of Gruyère blistered just enough to form that perfect crust you have to fight your way through with a spoon. Beneath it, a tangle of caramelized onions—sweet, slow, honest. The broth had depth, that kind of rich, almost smoky backbone that tells you someone in the kitchen still cares about doing it right.
The Wedge that followed was unapologetically old-school—crisp iceberg lettuce piled high, topped with chopped egg, smoky bacon, and a scatter of scallions for bite. Dressed in a creamy Thousand Island that tasted like it came from a real kitchen, not a bottle. Cold, crunchy, salty, rich—the kind of salad that doesn’t try to impress you with microgreens or foam, just does what it’s supposed to do and does it damn well.
As I ate, I thought about an old friend Dennis that I used to dine here with—a guy who could make you laugh so hard you’d nearly cry into your drink. He’s been gone ten years now. I texted his best friend Tim, and before long we were trading memories and one-liners, laughing through the distance. He would’ve loved this moment. He would’ve ordered the same thing.
The restaurant itself remains a study in contrasts—situated in a landmark building at the west end of the Shoreway, where the city starts to give way to the lake. Step inside and you’re met with vaulted ceilings that slope down into intimate booths, a dining room washed in mahogany tones and nearly a half ton of copper. It’s contemporary, but it carries the weight of history—warm, inviting, and tinged with nostalgia. The design embraces the old French doors, the arched windows, the hand-painted murals that stretch along the walls—scenes of downtown Cleveland and its neighborhoods as they once were.
I realized, sitting there, I hadn’t been back much since moving to the West Side four years ago. No real reason. Life just pulls you in other directions. But the food, the service, the atmosphere—they haven’t lost a step. Don’s is one of those rare places that still believes in hospitality the old-fashioned way: quietly, consistently, without pretense.
If you find yourself nearby, stop in. Order the soup. Order the salad. Sit at the bar. Raise a glass to someone who isn’t around anymore. Let the copper and mahogany soak you in for an hour. Because places like this—places that still remember who they are—deserve to be remembered too.