MINNEAPOLIS -- There used to be an artist-designed mural on the back wall at StepChld, chef Kamal Mohamed’s ode to global flavors in northeast Minneapolis.

Now, a grid of basketballs and footballs hangs as art. The snug two-tops for date nights are gone, replaced with wide booths that invite groups to linger. Behind the bar, inset TVs glow. Nothing on the pared-down menu costs more than $20.

Mohamed closed StepChld this summer, reopening Kizzo in its place with a message that, based on the new look, is literal: this is a sports bar now.

He had polled neighbors about what they wanted in a restaurant, and the answer was clear. Good food without the fuss. No reservations, no dressing up. “I want to feel comfortable … but then also watch the game,” he recalled hearing.

With Kizzo, he said, “We’re trying to find that home base.”

Facing shifting diner habits and economic pressures, more Twin Cities restaurants are reinventing themselves by lowering prices, focusing on the bar and courting regulars. High-end restaurants in Minneapolis that once leaned on marquee chefs and celebratory nights out are rebranding as neighborhood joints built for repeat visits.

For owners, the shift is urgent. “You hear this so often, but restaurants, we work with low margins,” said Daniel del Prado, who added a price-conscious lounge menu to his northeast Minneapolis restaurant Minari. “Any changes affect that low margin a lot, and can make or break that restaurant.”

Rising costs of food, rent and labor, which trickle down to menu prices, are turning off customers, restaurateurs are finding. The hardship is even starker within Minneapolis city limits, where the minimum wage is higher than in neighboring suburbs, and bigger government offices make navigating licenses, permits and regulations even trickier.

“It’s like, wow, what used to be under $20 now feels like $25, $30, $40,” Mohamed said. “We’re being really cognizant of that.”

The power of ‘the regulars’

Many Minneapolis restaurant owners are now focusing on value — not necessarily cheaper food, but meals that feel worth it — much as suburban eateries already do.

“Small portions at an expensive cost are things that we’re trying to change here,” said Travis Serbus, co-owner of Petite León, in Minneapolis’ Kingfield neighborhood. The restaurant will close at the end of the year and reopen in January under a new name, with every menu item (burgers, sandwiches, shareables) around $20 or less.

“Your menu doesn’t need to be cheap, but it needs to provide value,” Serbus said.

For many restaurants, that recalibration centers on regulars.

“They are so invaluable,” said Matt Monroe, head of Restore Restaurant Holdings.

Regulars, he said, “provide more predictability to restaurants, and a morale boost to the staff, just recognizing faces.”

Monroe has done this before. Years ago, his Minneapolis restaurant Eastside lost momentum, so he retooled it as EaTo. Servers began working consistent shifts so they could build relationships with guests. Managers cultivated ties with residents in the new towers nearby. And workers were empowered to comp small items to drive loyalty.

But Chloe, which serves the same neighborhood, “lost its way a little bit,” Monroe said. It originally opened as “Chloe by Vincent,” tied to the name of longtime Minneapolis chef Vincent Francoual and the memories of white tablecloth dining that came with it.

“We weren’t trying to pigeonhole ourselves to just those people that really loved the memories they shared with Vincent at his old restaurant,” Monroe said. Those guests had dined mostly only on weekends or before Guthrie shows.

With Francoual’s exit this summer, there’s room to evolve. The French art on the walls will come down by year’s end to make way for chalkboard menus and other casual touches. Higher-priced cuts of steak will come off the menu.

Chilango, across from Bde Maka Ska, has a similar story. It first launched under James Beard-nominated chef Jorge Guzmán, but will close at the end of October and reopen next year as Lakeview Kitchen + Bar.

“Chef-driven concepts like Chilango are great for destination, great for celebration, but they miss the boat on that neighborhood bar and grill type of feel that people really want,” said managing partner Zach Sussman.

Sussman saw the irony up close. Chilango is located inside a residential building, but the residents weren’t eating there. With Guzmán’s departure this summer, Sussman has a chance to reset.

“Restaurants like Redstone, BLVD and Ciao Bella — what do all these places have in common? Nobody has ever known who the chef is,” he said. Consistency, service and value — “that’s what drives success. It’s not who’s in the kitchen.”

‘We need to take a break’

Some restaurants don’t have time to recalibrate.

El Sazón Cocina & Tragos, a Guatemalan and Mexican restaurant in south Minneapolis, closed recently after months of mounting losses.

The owners were vexed. Some weekends the place was full; the next it was empty. Reviews were glowing. Diners loved the food, but there weren’t enough of them.

“For our own mental health, we’re like, we need to take a break,” said co-owner Karen de Leon. “We love it and we love what we do, but it was just straining us in all kinds of ways.”

Now, the de Leons are deciding whether to hold onto the full-service plated experience that makes them distinct in the neighborhood, scale back to counter-service tacos — or close for good.

Del Prado knows how quickly things can change. He originally planned Minari’s bar as an intimate omakase-style tasting, but pivoted after realizing one of northeast Minneapolis’ charms was its unpretentious dive bar scene.

No one would mistake the new lounge for a dive. But he added a burger and discounted drinks at happy hour, and named the bar Pikok, in homage to the former tenant, Erté and the Peacock Lounge.

Still, he couldn’t resist a high-end wink. Pikok serves chicken nuggets topped with caviar for $14 apiece. Even as fine dining contracts, its DNA lingers — but only as long as the math works.

From one of Kizzo’s cushy booths, Mohamed uses an app to dim the lights, giving the room a moodier glow as night falls. He says he’s gratified to know he’s not alone among restaurateurs charting a new course, but the industry’s predicament doesn’t bring him comfort, either.

“I feel like, am I looking at the same numbers as everybody else?” he said.

He considered all the places now in transition. “Either you’ll see it and go, ‘OK, I think we’ll do this for another three months,’” he said. “Or you’re not gonna see it, and it’s gonna be like the Titanic. You’re gonna just ignore it until your whole thing just sinks.”

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