Feed Me Chicago

There’s something about the far North Shore that makes you think Glencoe up is nothing but a big gated community.  It looks and feels so exclusive.  So “happy few”.  And then there’s Highwood, Highland Parks slightly humbler neighbor just above it.  You don’t hear about Highwood.  You don’t think about Highwood.  When considering the culinary aspects of life however, perhaps that should change.

Catching the Latin fusion wave that’s rolling through the country, Longitud315 on Highwood’s main downtown drag has found the right approach.  Keep it authentic, keep it original and keep it good.

 

Setting the stage with intrigue right out of the gate, long strips of fried plantain ribbons arrive when you look settled in your seat.  Accompanied by small bowl of green cilantro dip, the combination is an instant winner as slightly sweet meets pleasing heat.

 

You can approach the menu in a couple of ways.  Go the tapas shared plate route or go traditional entrée.  You won’t regret either choice.  You can build some of the appetizers to suit your cravings.  Some, like the empanadas and Brazilian style lamb chops; can be doubled from 4 to 8 or 3 to 6.  The Arepas Doa Ynes can even be tripled: 2, 4 or 6.  A white corn and cheese cake that just fits the hand, they’re topped with cream cheese and plantain, marinated chicken and curried onions or black beans, fried plantain and cotija cheese.  If you like added dimension to your food, the black beans will be your favorite.

 

Anybody who enjoys sinking their teeth into delightfully seasoned flesh will swoon over the Brazilian style lamb chops.  Dense with flavor, center cut, rubbed with garlic and beautifully presented with a slight char, people at the next table may wonder where that low growl of pleasure is coming from after you dive in.  The restaurant’s green beans a la Paisa, sautéed with Brussel sprouts, red Agi pepper, garlic sauce and crispy prosciutto added an ideal balance to the lamb.

For the pastry alone, Longitud315’s empanadas deserve like praise.  Fillings range from spinach and mancheco cheese to potatoes and brisket.  At least one, the ground beef, raisins, cheese and olives could have been bettered served with a bit more moisture and slightly amped up spices.  A zesty sauce riding shotgun filled both gaps.

 

With a population that doesn’t even reach 6000 and a history of working class strivers, there’s little pretense on the street or in the restaurant.  Busy on a early Sunday evening, dark wood and simple but comfortable furnishing kept the atmosphere muted and relaxed as servers swept by with platters and plates heaped with “that sure looks good”.

And there’s a not to be missed hailing from the bar, too.   Eyebrows shot up when we spotted something called a Hibiscus Old Fashioned matching rye whiskey to floral liqueur.  That kind of contrast mandated further investigation.  An excellent cocktail, it rang with class and brawn and will likely end up as an option in the man cave.

 

Service was engaged, knowledgeable and amusing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Longitud315

315 Waukegan Ave.

Highwood, IL  60040

847-926-7495

http://www.longitud315.com/

The city of Chicago and the state of Wisconsin have a thing; and it’s mostly one way.  Every summer the city looks lustfully north.  Across the border are quaint and picturesque cottages lolling beside beautiful lakes surging with fish.  There’s cheese.  There’s excellent beer.  And in the evening, there are supper clubs; those legendary havens of comfort food and camaraderie; also usually found next to a body of water.

 

Unlike the rest of town, residents of Lincolnwood know you don’t have to go to Wisconsin for a supper club immersion.  Sitting majestically, sans water element, on Lincoln Ave., L. Woods Tap and Pine Lodge exudes all of the gastronomic and atmospheric charm of a class “A” Wisconsin supper club.  Tons of wood, mounted fish, kitschy signs of natural wonders, spacious leather banquettes and a persistent air of carefree hospitality that never seems to leave the place.  It’s a walk down memory lane with tasty benefits.

 

A Lettuce Entertain You restaurant that started out life as Bones got retouched by the magic Melman wand and emerged as a festive haunt of the North woods.  Melman says he had to do something.  Sales were declining at Bones and the clientele was aging.  Every bona fide adult of any age loves supper clubs; even if they don’t know it.

 

Fried cheese curd appetizers?  Check!  Daily dinner specials?  Check! (Pot roast Thursday, fried perch on Friday).   Ribs?  Uh huh.  Walleye?  Yep.  Actually, the only thing you might miss if you really know your supper clubs is the relish tray.  Everything else is searingly on point.  Yes, there are antlers, too.

 

Generally folks rave about the food.  They shouldn’t. The food is fine though with even salads, of all things, garnering high praise.  And just about every night the fried calamari is light and delicious.  That’s what’s particularly laudable about L. Woods; its consistency.   The food rarely disappoints hugely.

That point does not extend to the cocktail menu.  Only California consumes more brandy than Wisconsinites; and they have seven times the population.  And they’re not nearly as reverential about their Old Fashions.     Our northern neighbors harbor a keen fondness for Manhattans, too.  Both the Wisconsin Old Fashion and the L. Woods Manhattan were about as sad as a scolded puppy and made you wish you had ordered a beer.

 

What didn’t disenchant was the re-creation of what is basically a national treasure.  There’s something unusually unique about supper clubs.  They’re what the American diner is in our psyche taken up a few notches:  cocoons of peace, warmth and community.   Who wouldn’t want to slide into a seat that offered so much and threw in a classic meal from the heartland.

 

L. Woods Tap and Pine Lodge

7110 N Lincoln Ave
Lincolnwood, IL 60712

Pizzeria Bebu in Lincoln Park has only been around since February but acts and slings pie like a seasoned champ.

Chef Jeff Lutzow, a Nico Osteria expat, has an exquisite gift for pairing the perfect toppings and placing them on the ideal dining vehicle; a thin crispy crust.  Like everything, your own palette will determine which pie becomes your favorite; but universal standouts still take up a long list.  For mild flavors and a tantalizing sense of the earth, the Funghi, with panna, wild forest mushrooms, roasted garlic, ricotta, pecorino and aged balsamic is a steadfast crowd pleaser.  For bolder more assertive flavors, the sausage and broccoli rabe is as well balanced as it is robust.  The same can be said for the Puttanesca that features anchovy, capers, olives, roasted garlic, Calabrian chili and parmesan.

 

Salads are so good you could even find yourself at a pizza joint and not eat pizza.  The Little Gem with fava beans, English peas, pecorino, pistachio, and a Meyer lemon vinaigrette stunned us with its freshness and the delicate but quite discernible accents of the dressing. Equally impressive was the kale Caesar salad.  Very simple with parmesan, breadcrumbs and a creamy anchovy vinaigrette, it could make a kale lover out of Fred Flintstone.  If you’re eating light, both could be considered meals in and of themselves.

Rumor has it that Lutzow used to make pizzas for the staff on special occasions at Nico Osteria.  They were so popular that he found a sponsor among the restaurant’s leadership. A toast to enlightened sponsorship.

 

Added bonus:  they’ll gladly mix toppings on the same pizza.  Heaven.

 

Pizzeria Bebu

1521 N. Fremont

(near North & Clybourn Red Line)

312-280-6000

Could somebody tell me why ribs are so complicated?  Why is something so primal held to such scrutiny?  The most likely answer to both questions centers on the fact that there are few things that can top a fabulous slab of spare/baby back/St. Louis cut ribs or rib tips.  Nothing is more closely tied to our time in the cave than meat on flame.  To graduate to the point where that same meat is now incredibly tender and sheathed in a complex and delicious sauce moves us from the primitive to the gourmet.

Gale St. Inn, that stalwart on Milwaukee Ave. deserves the consistent accolades it gets for its take on this American essential.  No, the sauce isn’t layer upon layer of palette mystery.   Because Gale St. has perfected the art of succulent tenderness, the ribs themselves are the stars.

 

Walking in on my maiden visit, the lack of ornamentation was the most striking thing that stood out.  We had a high noon lunch scheduled.  I was early and when you enter the restaurant you’re essentially in the bar.  Lots of guys had already gathered and clumped in groups.  Their animation gave the space vibrancy.

 

Escorted to the seating area in the back, the same spare expression prevailed.  It had that no frills we’re all about what we do feel.  We feed people. Very orderly, clean, courteous.

 

That courtesy card was particularly well played.  Our waiter, a young guy with an unusually earnest look about him, also turned out to be extraordinarily cordial when responding to questions and offering suggestions.  Attentive, knowledgeable and willing to engage, his manner ratcheted up expectations for the food.    When asked which he’d recommend, the jambalaya or the fettucine, he didn’t hesitate and pointed to the jambalaya with a genuine smile on his face.  Done.

 

When friends I’ve not seen since the discovery of fire arrived, it was clear they’d eaten at Gale St.  a million times plus.   It’s smack dab in the middle of their hood.  Staying mainstream, they didn’t order anything that stretched:  potato skins (with cheese and bacon) for appetizers, medium burger and fries, Caesar salad w/ sirloin strips piled high.  That’s kind of the thing about Gale St.  It’s not a stretching place.  It’s as straightforward as the neighborhood it’s in.  Solid Midwestern fare that feeds a city with big shoulders.  Gale Street Inn would be just as comfortable in Bridgeport or Beverly.

 

The jambalaya was better than expected.  All of the essential flavors and heat were there for a traditional Cajun rendering.  Yep.  It would have been nice to have an even more genuine experience with the taste of celery and green pepper shining softly through the spices.  And Gale Street uses just shrimp and andouille for protein; nixing the chicken.  Still, the bottom line is that they hit the mark with a finality which made for a great meal.  The medium burger clearly was that and that salad with the mound of beef was generous and fresh.  Every face looked satisfied as we caught up and chowed down.

The ribs were a separate take home order and the verdict of the recipient diner was not kind.  “I’ve had better.”  Perhaps, but what you’re eating is very good.  No, they are not smoked and have that incomparable essence of direct flame.  But that lovely tenderness, where nicely seasoned flesh pulls easily from the bone and that bone remains moist deserves beau coup props.

 

 

Gale Street Inn

4914 N. Milwaukee Ave.

Chicago, IL  60630

773-725-1300

Dangerously habit forming for someone who lives eight blocks from the Evanston border, 5 Rabanitos is still a craving that can’t be denied.  With enough south side connections to warrant excuses for stopping through Pilsen, “the little restaurant that could” keeps pumping out some of the best food in the city.

 

Sitting quietly on the corner of 18^th and Wood, neat as a button and without airs, the dining room leans to the small side.  Bare tables and an all-male waitstaff make it seem particularly straightforward.

 

Every 5 Rabanito meal I’ve had has been notable for its robust flavors.  They are always true to the focus of the dish.  But it finally took this visit to stumble onto one of the best meals I’ve had the good fortune of experiencing in either recent or distant memory. Confiding in the waiter about the appeal of both the roasted pork with mole (Puerco Al Rancho) and the grilled chicken Rabinitos style for lunch, he leaned in with a sly smile and said, “the chicken”.  Odd, I’ve always felt Mexican dishes excelled in beef and pork.  Indeed, the carne asada eaten during my last visit could not have been more superb.

 

It’s that ironclad commitment to excellence that shines so beautifully at this self- effacing treasure.  Much has been mentioned about chef Sotelo’s 19 years laboring and learning in Rick Bayless’s kitchens.  He’s using his training and his creativity to elevate rustic everyday day food to a level you’d expect in the city center where sublime perfection is both assumed and demanded.

 

You’ll wait a minute for that excellence to arrive.  Might be a good idea to use the time to comb through the menu and decide what you’ll have the next time you’re in the neighborhood.  Or, you could check out the crowd.  From the looks of things this Friday afternoon, 5 Rabanitos is both local mainstay and a special destination.

When the grilled chicken (Amish) arrived with the little red disc holding the restaurants exceptional homemade tortillas and a robust steak knife, my face probably looked a little querulous.  And where’s everything else?  No worries.   Mushrooms, green beans, yellow squash, red and green peppers and grilled onions were relaxing in a phenomenal broth beneath the breast meat with wing intact.  Insanely succulent, I had to lay both my fork and the knife on the table and stare into the kitchen after taking a couple of bites of the chicken and scooping up a tasting of the vegetables.  “How did they do that?!”  There might have been a swear word in that question, too.  The serving was more than ample and I slowed down just to prolong the bliss.  All the while wondering again how did they pull that off.  The menu did say something about a garlic honey marinade.  That marinade recipe should be protected by armed guards.  What it did for that chicken is what a brain did for Einstein.  But please, if you have an affinity for heat in the form of salsa, don’t forget to ask for the habanero to accompany most things on the menu. A whisper of sweetness balances mellow heat and is a surprisingly agreeable accent to many of the restaurants offerings.

 

I’m also beginning to think hyperbole is a little contagious when you find yourself at 5 Rabanitos.  Fortunate enough to have a dining partner the last time I was there, Sparks ordered a shrimp dish that also featured cheese.  By meals end, he had to tell the waiter as well as Rabanito # 3, who happened to stop by the table; that it was the best shrimp he’s ever had in a Mexican restaurant.  The passion in his disclosure helps to explain why 5 Rabanitos will remain an itch I look forward to scratching for quite a while.

It’s only been open 6 months so the fact that the name isn’t well known shouldn’t be surprising.  Billing itself as pan-Latin and taking up residence in the perpetually hot West Randolph restaurant corridor, Ronero seems intent on bringing the class.  Lighting is dark and the décor is both elegant and dramatic; but subdued.  Welcoming and very cool.

 

Waiting at the bar for our table to get set, the bartender thought the idea of a rye Manhattan was a good one and started going all mad scientist in his prep.  I marveled at the complexity of what I was seeing.  Whatever he was doing deserved the mixologist equivalent of a Nobel Prize.  Even though he claimed there were only three ingredients in the cocktail, my tongue was very gratefully saying no way.  This cocktail was a show stopper.  Served up, I nursed it as long as I decently could and will likely sneak back alone one of these days to get another one.

 

The birthday girl had spotted the little red velvet booths behind us by that time and gave a little squeal, “Oh, those are cute!”  Sliding up to the hostess stand, I asked if one might be available.  She confided that they were actually intended for couples.  I assured her our party of three would be just fine.  The booth turned out to be as charming as it looked very snug for two of us but it still all good.

 

And the cocktail turned out to be a great harbinger of things to come.  Ronero’s menu seems to take a tour of Central and South America with a lot of things you’d expect and a lot of things you might not.  And you do have to be very careful how you order if your appetite happens to be raging the night you’re there. Some entrées are generous, some are quite scanty.  In their appetizer world, the empanadas; filled with beautifully done mushrooms and wrapped in the most delicious flour jackets around, were a bit meager in portion.   The yucca however, served with its own aioli and cilantro; were tasty as could be and thankfully, heaped high on the plate.

 

Our entrées included the bartender recommended Arroz Con Pollo, divers scallops and steak.  Let’s just say the bartender came through again.  Popular all over Latin America, the famous chicken and rice dish is an incomparable comfort food when made well and Ronero did it right.  Incredibly moist chicken blended beautifully with well-balanced flavors from the sofrito.  In my opinion the addition of aioli here was completely gratuitous and I would have preferred some kind of green garnish like cilantro.

 

Although the divers scallops garnered praise for their flavor, the serving of polenta was but a mere suggestion; not a true appetite appeaser.  And although the steak was moist and flavorful, visually you wondered what table the rest of the meal landed on.

 

The reason we ended up at Ronero is because Sparks saw the chef making buttermilk doughnuts on TV one afternoon and was impressed.  So somebody had to get the doughnuts for dessert.  Pillow light and sitting in a little pool of chocolate, they were indeed exceptional.  As was the de riguer flan served with a dark berry compote, quarter sized shortbread cookies and delicate marigold blossoms.  The intensely chocolate expresso mousse will sate even the most devout chocoholic.

 

As pleasing as the meal and evening were, they would not have been nearly as interesting if we did not have the waitress we had.  Names would probably not be advisable here because I don’t think it was her intent to be that entertaining.  We don’t think she was trying out a character for an SNL skit or was just a little off track naturally.  She did everything she was supposed to do but she did it with such unorthodox flair.

 

Ronero has a rum bar upstairs.  If it’s anything like the experience down stairs, it’s a another good reason for going out.

Thwarted from going to Robert’s Pizza and getting a little intimate with their highly-touted crust because the restaurant doesn’t open until 5; my surprise was not accompanied by a Plan B.  Breakfast was a banana that had satisfied for all of 30 minutes hours ago. Headed back toward Michigan Ave. I looked up and saw it.  The Grande Luxe Café.

 

When it comes to restaurants, the quality of the food trumps the quality of the service period.  The GL made me rethink that dictum.  Floating above the southwest corner of Michigan Ave. and Ohio St., it wraps around the second floor and is sheathed in glass.  You can clearly see people eating when you look up.  From the street, it also looks as if it must be cavernous. And, at noon, on high boil.

 

Five or ten-minute wait for a party of one, cool.  That gave me time to plum the menu.  Had already noticed that the kitchen was pumping out a lot of sandwiches and salads.  Both were well represented on the menu too.  But there were other things in the pasta and fish worlds that rattled the curiosity cage.  I had settled on one of two Bento boxes when my buzzer went off.

 

Touristy?  Looked like it but it was clear a lot of local folks filled the mix too.

 

Having found favor from the seating gods, I was escorted to one of the restaurant’s prime tables.  Right at the window just as it curved going from the west to the south, I looked directly down at the pulsing intersection below.  The sun was coming out and people were shedding their jackets.  After lunch, the Kerry James Marshall exhibit at MCA was next on the agenda so I was practically percolating with good cheer anyway.

 

When the baby-faced waiter recommended the salmon bento box by a hair over the other option and the loopy sounding chowder soup with chicken as well, a quick nod got it going.  A little adventure in this glass paradise.  Was not expecting what came out.  No box.  No conventional Bento box anyway with small compartments.  Instead four white ceramic bowl plates descended from server hands.  One had a small slice of salmon resting on mashed potatoes.  Others carried the salad, asparagus and the soup.  Four not so tiny bowls. All self contained and in a sphere of their own.  How my small table would accommodate two people ordering Bento boxes stays a mute point.  Visually, as healthy as it all looked, the meal seemed a little decadent.  It was a lot of food.  Perfectly roasted and lightly seasoned, the asparagus tasted like spring.  The salad’s vinaigrette was all the boost it needed.  With its mixed greens and cherry tomatoes, the house salad was neither ordinary nor cliché and the chowder was flavorful and filling even though I would have preferred it warmer.   Everything was more than acceptable and considering a price point under $20; it would be more honest to call it exceptional.

 

Could this lunch be duplicated?  I don’t really think so.  After I was seated the time was stuffed with charm.  A beautiful sun filled room, a delightful wait staff who made a point in letting me know there was no need to rush after the bill was paid and an unexpectedly bountiful and healthy meal.  I may not be able to duplicate it, but I think I might try to anyway.

Fear of beef, pork and salt kept me out of Fat Rice for years.  Finally, curiosity got the best of dietary concerns and we were off to one of the city’s least pretentious neighborhoods.  Just west of the Kennedy on Diversey, it’s the kind of area you feel at home in.  People around here work regular jobs and live regular lives.  Well outside the city center, this is the heartland cast in concrete.. Right on the corner at Sacramento, Fat Rice sits unobtrusively, slinging mean cuisine.

 

Happy that the interior wasn’t more ostentatious; you know immediately affectation is an outcast here.  Even though it was quite comfortable, lovingly decorated and exuding clean, a refreshing rawness lingered that encouraged chill.  And I don’t know when a greeting, as it happens from one of the owners, was more welcoming and generous; served with the slightest hint of curiosity.

It was lunch time.  Lively.  You can drop either a hundred bucks for two or easily skate on $15 alone.  Are most people really concerned about the origin of recipes?  In this case, Macau and Portugal.  The only thing we are universally interested in is deliciousness.  If that is achieved, we’ve scored.  Fat Rice is a place to score.

 

The table to the right of us spoke solely Chinese.  Turning to the left, a couple of local chefs were at the door stopping in for lunch as well.  Our choice, and we were far from alone, was the big Kahuna; the paella like creation that prided itself on excess.  Stacked on a bed of richly sofrito seasoned rice baked to near scorching on the bottom, were giant prawns, manila clams, curried chicken, charred pork, linguica sausage, Portuguese olives and tea eggs.  Shredded duck and sweet and sour raisins were embedded in the flavored rice.  It was a feast masquerading as peasant food.  And it was meant to be eaten like peasants with food flying and spoons clashing as they dug for new treasures at the bottom of the cauldron.

 

Sated and surfacing for air, it’s reasonable to look dazed after such an experience.  My hospitable greeter stopped by to ask impressions.  A confession followed.  The fear of beef, pork and salt succumbed to culinary exceptionalism.  She thanked us for giving the restaurant a chance.  My heart thanked her for bringing Chicago Fat Rice.

 

 

Fat Rice

2927 W. Diversey

$11 – 30

 

 

Evanston’s restaurant scene sometimes seems as fluid as Manhattan’s with its constant flow of what’s hot and what’s not. Billing itself as an urban Thai kitchen, NaKorn on Orrington had the minimalist charm of a serious restaurant and an utterly charming waitstaff.  Singing with flavor, the tapioca pearl crackers are enough reason to take it seriously.  Accompanied with a relish of minced chicken and shrimp in a tamarind-coconut mixture served at room temperature, the combination of flavors was revelatory and delightful.  Don’t expect to see or taste either protein distinctly.  Ladled on the pale green bumpy crackers and topped off with cilantro leaves made them as irresistible as frites fried in duck fat.

As a new restaurant, they’re still developing their legs. Considering how quickly this has to be done these days, I wish them luck.  It’s absolutely true, you will not find either Pad Thai or Pad see Ew among their offerings.  You also won’t find much rice or many noodles at all.  It seems the focus is on essential flavors.

Listening to an inner voice that counseled a cocktail, the Sazerac proved to be one of the best mixed drinks of any kind I’ve enjoyed in decades; anywhere. Top flight with its rye whiskey, Turbinado syrup, Angostura bitters and Letherbee Charred Oak Absinthe Brun; it was superb.  Unapologetic. Bold with a velvet trim.  Sophisticated. Delicious.

One of NaKorn’s signature dishes also sparkled with exceptional execution and flavor.  Branzino, often referred as a European sea bass, is a medium sized fish admired for its firm flesh and delicate flavor.  At NaKorn, it’s deep fried and served whole along with Belgian endive drizzled in a lime sweet and sour sauce.  The endive was as delightful as the fish which was fried perfectly and held its wonderfully mild flavor (a softer version of catfish) with every bite.  Something was missing though and that thing was a starch.  Here, a small serving of moist wonderfully flavored rice noodles would have proven exceptional and would also have rounded out the presentation as well as the meal.

 

Sparks ordered the grilled tenderloin as an appetizer and the roasted duck as the entrée.  The flavors you would anticipate from a description of tenderloin, young ginger scallion, peanut toasted sticky rice powder and chili lime drizzle did not come through.  The grilled tenderloin was shredded on top of the rice; minimizing its profile.  Even though Sparks loved it, I found it a miss.  The duck also left me scratching my head.  Slow cooked in a clear broth with shitake mushrooms, coconut, daikon and cilantro tips radically altered the texture of the duck and eradicated all of its richness.   The Asian flavors went even further to transform the flavor of the duck to something more akin to liver.  The broth was quite delicious but the duck itself, in this form, is an acquired taste.  Starch was missing from this entrée as well and we ordered a side of coconut rice to add substance to the meal.

 

What NaKorn offers is innovation which is always a beautiful thing and for that reason alone worth following up on to see where it goes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

March  2017