Posts in the ‘American’ Category

Publican, Fulton Market

Saturday, September 10th, 2011

he said:

After making our reservation months in advance, when it was finally time for our Friday date night at Publican, I was less than enthused. Summer was in full swing, and all I really wanted to do was have a low key dinner with my wife. Despite my desire to see what all the fuss was about, I just wasn’t in the mood for a fuss.

I didn’t want a scene. I just wanted something nice and relaxing. Turns out, Publican was the perfect place to go.

We sat outside on a night with perfect weather. We were away from the hubbub inside, and the meatpacking district, surprisingly, isn’t a bad place to be on a warm summer evening.

Making up for lost time

We started with a plate of pickles, and I was in love. The pickled cucumbers (most people call them pickles) were only okay. But the pickled asparagus and cauliflower were delightful. Sweet and surprising, I don’t know where these have been all my life.

Speaking of missing out on something, I’ve never had pork rinds. It wasn’t by accident, it was a conscious choice. But Publican is known for theirs so I had to try them. And I’m glad I did. They’re super crunchy with an awesome spicy salt rub and a texture that kind of reminded me of Cheetos. Only better. And louder. Did I mention they were crunchy?

Country Rib Confusion

For my main dish, I had the country ribs, which were unlike any rib I’d ever had. As in, I’m not sure they gave me the right dish. Who out there has had their ribs before? I expect ribs to show up in a neat line with a bit of meat between them. This cut reminded me more of a chop. Am I crazy, or did I get the wrong dish? Please, if you can, enlighten me.

That confusion not withstanding, my “ribs” were great. They had a salty and sweet sauce that worked perfectly.

If it’s a scene, it’s my kind of scene

I’m so glad we went. The food was on par with what I’d expect for a neighborhood swarming with foodies, but the atmosphere was much more low key and simple than I’d anticipated.   The food and drinks (and my wife’s company) were so spectacular that I would have enjoyed Publican even if it had been the scenester scene I was expecting. When I’m surrounded by such delicious treats, even the hugest of deals can’t distract me.*

*Cryptic, huh? Read on and you’ll understand.

she says:

If, ten years ago, someone had told me that they planned to open up a restaurant in the heart of Chicago’s meat-packing district, I’d have had some serious doubts.  I mean, who would want to dine beneath the shadows of those industrial slaughter-houses, amid the smell of butchered meat? I’ll tell you who.  Everyone!

He’s right.  The area – with hipstastic eateries like Girl and the Goat, Publican, and Maude’s Liquor Bar – has developed into a full-blown scene.  Still, it’s funny to hear a relative newcomer (my husband) talk about the district as if it’s passe.  It’s a funny phenomena for those of us with a longer memory.

True to the roots, Publican is an homage to the meat-packing district’s glory days, if such a thing exists.  I read that they bring in a whole pig each Friday – alive or dead, I do not know, but I believe they butcher on site -  and, from what I could tell, every ounce of that oinker, from snout to tail, is served up in one way or another.

The inside of the restaurant, cavernous with hanging globe lights and large communal tables, exudes the warmth and comradery of a German brauhaus.   Along the sides of the room, gated stalls (styes?) offer a slightly more private dining experience.  To  ensure I adequately captured the scene so I could tell you all about it, I walked around the perimeters of the room several times .  After my third lap, I ran into my husband on his way back from the bathroom.  “Are you stalking?”, he asked, only to be met by my blank, confused stare.  As is sometimes the case, I had no clue what he was talking about.  Until, of course,  he tilted  his head towards a nearby sty where I spotted one Robert Downey Jr. (!!!) seated with a group of friends.  One cool thing about my husband: he has a real knack for spotting celebrities, even if sometimes they’re just random actors who have been in one obscure commercial.

But I digress.  Here’s the thing - there’s no shortage of Publican reviews out there so I’m going to keep mine short and to the point.  If you’re hungry for meat, like to eat organs, and love, love, love all things pig, you’re going to be in hog heaven at Publican.  If you’re a vegetarian, even one who thinks they can find something yummy on almost every menu (like me), you are out of luck, my friend.  Most the vegetable courses are cooked in some sort of animal fat or with some animal part.  Interesting pickles are great, but you’re probably not going to find enough to eat or anything extraordinary about the vegetarian food you do find.  Vegetarian fare is not their gig.  Consider yourself warned.

One more thing – and I’m shocked that my husband didn’t bring this up -  I must applaud Publican’s beer menu.  It’s one of the most eclectic, extensive and all-around impressive selections I’ve ever seen.  It was, for me, a saving grace, along, of course, with the white fedora that Robert Downey Jr. was sporting.


Soul Vegetarian East, Chatham/Greater Grand Crossing

Sunday, May 22nd, 2011

he said:

I’ve come a long way since I moved here about a year and a half ago, at least in terms of my vegetarian eating habits.  I credit my wife’s cooking, which is all vegetarian, with my realization that meat substitutes can be good. They can also be horrible. (I’ve had my share of mushy fake meat loaf. Not my wife’s, of course.)  So maybe it won’t come as much surprise that I’m the one who suggested that we drive to the South Side on a Friday night to Soul Vegetarian East, a vegan soul food restaurant.   The place had a reputation that preceded it, and I was eager to give it a try.

If I just focus on the food, I can say that I’m glad I did. The other stuff, well…let me just focus on the food for now.

My meal consisted of the BBQ Twist sandwich, a house specialty, BBQ protein bits, Hebrew fries and a Strawberry Heaven juice drink. The drink came from Eternity Juice Bar, which is ostensibly next door but is the same restaurant for all intents and purposes.

Veggie-Speak

To translate my meal out of the unique vernacular used at Soul Vegetarian, I had a vegan BBQ pork sandwich, BBQ chicken fingers, french fries and a strawberry smoothie. I call them pork and chicken, but I’m just making guesses. Whatever they used as protein was good, but I don’t think it was trying to taste like a specific meat.

Better Twist than M. Night Shyamalan

You could probably put the BBQ Twist in front of anyone, and 9 out of 10 of them would have no idea that it wasn’t meat. It tastes like the real thing, and it does the one thing that so many faux meat dishes fail at–it gets the texture right. It was covered in sauce, but the protein was crisp with little charred bits that added so much to it. Even the lettuce garnish on the sandwich was impressive – very fresh and tasty.

If you’re going to get the BBQ Twist, don’t get the BBQ Protein Bits appetizer – they’re essentially the same thing. The only difference is that you dip the bits into the sauce, so you’re basically doing the work for the restaurant.

The Strawberry Heaven juice smoothie was great. They have a really extensive list of “juices,” and I wish that I had been more adventurous because they looked delicious. Almond Malt Shake, you better be ready next time.

Freedom fries I’ve heard of, but Hebrew?

I was a little worried with this strange nomenclature, but I shouldn’t have been–these are the best fries I’ve had in Chicago. Fresh potatoes, with a nice crisp bite to them, and only needing a little salt to round out the taste. They were awesome.

I have no idea if they were actually fried, either. On their menu, everything that you’d think was fried was described as battered. And I have no idea how they make fries in Hebrew.

Would I go back? The food was delicious, but unless I’m in the neighborhood, I’d say no. The kindest thing I can say about the service was that it was indifferent. I’ll let my wife get into more detail, but rest assured, it’s not because this is a vegetarian restaurant. I’ve learned to love when vegetarian food is done well, and outside of our kitchen, this has been the best vegetarian I’ve had in Chicago.

she said:

I hate to poop on the picnic.  My husband is very nice, but I’m gonna have to throw a little yin into the yang.  Soul Vegetarian turned our Friday night into an exercise in patience and thirst management.

Allow me to give you a timeline of our visit.  We were there for about twenty minutes before we were even acknowledged.  When we were finally seated, we waited for what felt like another twenty minutes before anyone took our order, then about an hour before anything arrived.  My entree arrived first, followed (a half hour later) by my husband’s, then (15 minutes after we’d finished our entrees) our drinks, then (15 minutes later), last but not least, our appetizer.  At one point, I considered filling up my water glass in the bathroom because my mouth was too dry to swallow my cornbread and I thought I might choke.  At another point, our waitress had been gone so long that my husband speculated that she’d quit.

If you’re preparing to give me a little lecture on slowing down the frenetic pace of my workaday existence, save your breath.  I stop and smell the roses.  I love the roses.  They smell friggin’ awesome.  This was not a slow down and relax situation.  I thought the woman at the table next to us might start crying if she didn’t get her check; she had to ask for it six times.  I’ve never seen so many guests ask to speak to the manager.  The tension in the air was so thick you could have cut it with a knife, assuming your table had utensils, which it probably would not.

All of this said, I would definitely go back.  Perhaps I’m a glutton for punishment, but the food was so delicious that I’m willing to  give them another shot.  Vegetarian soul food isn’t easy to find and this was the best I’ve ever had.  Although my lentil soup was lackluster, I loved the BBQ Protein Tidbits and their delectable sauce.  I ordered the special that night, which was lasagna served with crispy fritters and perfectly cooked greens.  Despite my husband’s accolades, I would have no idea how to make vegan lasagna taste good, but theirs was incredible – creamy, flavorful and satisfying.

Also, mission matters to me and I have a lot of respect for the this place, for their dedication to serving wholesome and delicious vegan food, especially considering that they’re located in a neighborhood with an abundance of fast food chains and a lack of healthy options.  In addition, I like that they cater to a clientele unlike that of most other crunchy vegetarian places; Chatham is one of the largest middle-class black neighborhoods in Chicago.  Interestingly, Soul Vegetarian East is religiously affiliated with the African Hebrew Israelites of Jerusalem and this is evident some of the staff’s clothes, dish names and wall art.

I actually feel guilty calling them out on their despicable service, but I have to be honest.  If you go (and I hope you do), just keep in mind that patience is a virtue, but not a virtue that you get rewarded for with something like a nice thick piece of sweet potato pie, which is how I wanted to be rewarded, but I just couldn’t wait any longer.

ps.  I never make vegetarian meatloaf.


Girl and the Goat, Fulton Market

Sunday, April 3rd, 2011

she said:

Hey, remember when Pig Face was an insult rather than a gourmet entrée?  Remember when brains and bones went into the trash rather than onto the menu?  When beef tongue was a by-product rather than a delicacy?  No?  That’s okay.  Me neither.

Over the last ten years, charcuterie has become so trendy that it’s almost passé.   Good thing there’s a new craze: offal and end bits.  Last summer, I attended a pig roast where one hipster guest insisted that we save him the eyeballs.  Which we did.  And which he ate with delight, popping one shrunken orb into his mouth and then the other.

To be clear, I have absolutely no problem with this trend.  It’s all the same to me and, really, what’s the difference between eating a muscle and eating an organ?  I’m simply pointing out that the same dishes (popular in most other countries, I realize) that would have once induced a gag reflex (in this country) now inspire a dainty napkin-to-lip dab and a breathy, Magnifique!

I think we can blame/laud Top Chef winner Stephanie Izard, and her highly acclaimed restaurant, Girl and the Goat, for her place at the forefront of this meat movement.  Several people advised me that I wouldn’t be able to eat much at Girl and the Goat, so with that warning in my cap, along with the  letdown that usually accompanies so much buzz, I prepared myself for disappointment, even after waiting two months for our reservation.

Guess what?  I was blown away.  Yes, her menu features Bison Butt and Pork Belly, but it also features 10 truly spectacular vegetable-inspired dishes (I say veg-inspired, because they’re not all vegetarian. Even some of the desserts include pork). The dishes are “small plates” so we ordered 5 to share.

The highlights:

The Chickpea Fritters, though very salty, were a textural delight, served with goat feta and a mix of green and fried chickpeas, along with hazelnut hummus and a yummy red hot sauce.

The Roasted Cauliflower, tossed with mint, lemon juice, pickled peppers, pine nuts and parmesan (I think), was a startlingly fabulous flavor combination.

And my favorite:  the Kabucha Squash Ravioli, tossed in a mushroom ragout with popped capers, raisins, and brussels leaves.   The sauce, perhaps Thai-inspired, was reminiscent of a coconut curry and it almost made me weep.

As you may have guessed, I didn’t eat any animal parts so I’ll have to leave the meat review to my husband.   The point is, my gastro-delight was unhindered by my vegetarianism.  You don’t have to be a meat lover to fall in love with Girl and the Goat; you just have to be a food lover.  Plus, my herbivorous ways mean there’s more snout for all of you!

he said:

Of all the restaurants where we’ve eaten in the year and a half since I’ve been here, G&TG (acronyms!) is probably the most hyped. We’d heard good things, but also comments like, “Oh, it’s not as her good first restaurant, this is just a chance to cash in on her fame since she won Top Chef.”

To all those people I say,

“Stop hating.”

There is almost nothing to complain about at G&TG. I have one quibble, which I’ll get to in a bit. But first, spare me a moment while I list what I loved:

The dark, large interior that reminded me of a loft. The blackened wood wall, looking like the survivor of a barn fire, that cut the dining room in two. The open view into the bustling kitchen. Our great waitress, who was so friendly I added her as a Facebook friend right there on my phone (not true, but our waitress rocked). The fact that they source their food from local farms. Loved all of it.

And oh my god, the soundtrack. The music in the background was like they tapped into my iPod. Maybe they took a peek at my playlist when I took my phone out to friend our waitress (still not true).  Classic rock, mixed with modern rock, Americana and folk. The wife and I caught ourselves mouthing the words to some of our favorites.

Comfortably creative

On to the food, specifically the meat. This is the only part I didn’t love (my quibble, as promised). I really, really liked it…which is great and puts this restaurant in the Top 5% of places I’ve eaten. But there wasn’t that eye-opening, surprising, wow-moment when I popped a bite into my mouth. The kitchen is doing something inventive with traditional comfort food tastes, and that’s a big task. Inventive and traditional are awkward bedfellows, despite the fact that more and more restaurants are trying to pair them.

I love their creativity and what they’re trying to accomplish. But I only really, really liked their food.

Beyond the veggie dishes, which I enjoyed a lot, I had the Goat T-bones and the Pig Face. The T-bones actually reminded me of buffalo wings. They’re much smaller than a T-bone steak, and I was told to eat them with my hands. They’re perfectly cooked, with a spicy barbecue sauce that gives them a little kick. Fun, tasty and just as messy as wings.

The Pig Face came recommended. Delicious and decadent with all the pork fat and a fried egg on top. It was cooked crispy, then softened by the fat and drizzled with caramel that was a sweet counter to the savoriness of the pork. It came really close to a wow moment, but was so rich that the whole plate was a bit much for one person. Get this dish if you go, but try to share it.

I was hoping to be blown away by the food, and it came up a bit short. But maybe I should appreciate the fact that this restaurant had me asking for Pig Face and I wasn’t making a bad joke. I’m kind of blown away by that.


Acre, Andersonville

Tuesday, November 23rd, 2010

Photo courtesy of Urban Daddy

he said:

It seemed to happen overnight.  Charlie’s Ale House turned into Acre.  Charlie’s had been a quiet Andersonville mainstay for a long time. People seemed to like it, despite its quasi-Applebee’s atmosphere and menu.   But let’s not dwell on the past.

Thankfully, the new owners left the antique bar and beautiful old light fixtures. As near as I can tell, they didn’t do much to the interior, other than take down some decorations and slap some gray paint on the walls. It has a similar feel, though it’s  a bit more austere than good old Charlie’s.

As it turns out, the new owners aren’t exactly new.  The fine folks behind Anteprima are in charge now. What I didn’t know until I read this article was that they owned Charlie’s all along. Apparently, they’re just updating things and bringing over the chef from Anteprima to enliven the menu.

Acre is split into two restaurants. The Tap Room and the Dining Room have two completely different menus, and separate kitchens.  On one side: upscale pub grub and flat-screen TVs. On the other: American gourmet, fireplaces and artwork.  You can’t order from the Dining Room menu if you’re eating in the Tap Room, and vice versa.

The Tap Room

The beer menu is awesome. Not Hopleaf awesome, but there’s thirty beers on taps and a plethora of bottles. Our meal started with the baked feta, which was really good. Creamy and a bit tart, with a texture of cottage cheese.

Things went downhill fast when we got to the main dish. I ordered the turkey pastrami, and was kicking myself for not going with the burger.  Having lived in New York City, I  expect a pastrami sandwich to be loaded with artery-clogging goodness. What landed in front of me had as much girth as a PB&J. There were two slices of turkey pastrami between the bread. Seriously–two fricking slices. It tasted bland, and everything else on the sandwich overpowered the meat. My imaginary Jewish grandmother would be appalled.

The Dining Room

Meanwhile, on the other side of the wall…

Much better experience. If this was one of those old westerns, where the sheriff draws a line in the sand and says “which side are you on?”, I’d go with the Dining Room. Even though there are no flat screen TVs showing sporting events.

Here, I ordered the Amish chicken breast, and it was perfect. Tender and juicy, perfectly seasoned, and with one of the crispiest, tastiest skins I’ve ever had. I can’t say enough.

And the service matched the food. Whereas in the Tap Room, I’d label the staff as a little “unconcerned,” in the Dining Room, our waiter was attentive and knowledgeable.

I’ve never been to a place with a split personality, but I’d say Acre has one. Good and bad, fine dining and pub grub, delicious and disappointing. It’s hard to know what to make of this place.

There’s definitely enough potential here to warrant many return trips.  I hope they figure out a more consistent approach.   I feel like the neighborhood has traded a bedrock institution for something with more promise, but also more frustration. Each time I go, I’ll be hoping for the former, but preparing myself for the latter.

she said:

He’s right, Acre does seem a tad schizo with its two-restaurants-in-one approach.  My hunch: they’re hedging their bets with Charlie’s devotees.  The Tap Room menu is way more sophisticated than Charlie’s menu, but it hasn’t lost its hearty comfort-food appeal or its reasonable prices.  I was a huge fan of that feta dish he mentioned, but it wasn’t on the menu the last time we visited.  The selection changes daily, depending on what’s in season.  A good thing, no doubt, but be careful with your heart and don’t get too attached.

While I’m all about swapping fish sticks for oysters on the half-shell (which are actually on the menu), my sense is that the Tap Room is still finding its sea legs.  In addition to shabby service, my vegetarian mac and cheese came sprinkled with bacon bits, but there were so few that I’m pretty sure they caught their mistake and tried to remove the the evidence.  I’m on to you, Tap Room.  Like a hawk.  Oh also, when the waiter took my dish away, he dropped the cheesy spoon onto my dress.  Accidents happen, but the dish should have been taken off the bill.

The Dining Room has its act together, though.  I had the turnip graten and the celery root risotto.  Both were divine and both came topped with a hard-boiled quail egg, a fact for which I have no explanation.  The decor is rustic and modern (don’t listen to my guy; it’s changed drastically), with tractor seats and wagon wheels on the walls.

We’ve been to Acre three times since it opened up a month ago.  I forgave the mac and cheese incident and am very excited about our new neighbor.   Don’t get me wrong, Charlie’s was alright, I guess, but – sorry, Charlie – Acre is just so much cooler.