Posts in the ‘Uptown’ Category

Magnolia Cafe, Uptown

Thursday, November 17th, 2011

she said:

I must be missing something.  We’ve been to Magnolia twice, both times on weekday evenings, and almost every table has been full, not to mention the bar stools.   They’ve received one glowing review after another and, frankly, I’m a little stumped.

I do have a few kind words and I’ll start with those.  Magnolia is a cozy, candlelit neighborhood bistro in an area that needs encouragement.  Located on Wilson Avenue, right by Truman college, Magnolia Cafe is like a little French oasis, a cubic zirconia in the rough.  And, in Uptown, I mean rough.  I want Uptown to succeed so I’m behind any establishment that helps it to do so.  Also on my list of compliments: the wine selection and the yummy foccacia-style bread.

Next, a disclaimer.  I think the problem might be me and my strained, but cherished, relationship with French cuisine, which tends to lean hard on meat.  Believe me, I want to enjoy French food in its full creamy glory and when there’s a dish I can eat, I’m often weak at the knees.   The problem is that my choices are limited, but that’s my issue and I wouldn’t dream of arguing otherwise.

Well, maybe just a little. See, I don’t have this problem at every French restaurant.  In fact, Bistro Campagne, a French place in Lincoln Square, which, inexplicably, we’ve yet to review, is one of my favorite restaurants in the city.  Is it so wrong to hope for one or two vegetarian options?  Not every French chef thinks so, as is evidenced by many other French menus throughout Chicago.

To their credit, Magnolia was really great about creating options for me.  The thing is, I generally try to avoid altering dishes to make them vegetarian.  I trust that a chef knows what he or she is doing and when you remove a key ingredient, you change the  essence of a dish.

This, I believe, is exactly what happened with Magnolia’s tragically lackluster rendition of macaroni and cheese (macaroni au gratin), usually one of my favorite dishes at French establishments.  Without its smoked bacon, the mac and cheese was virtually tasteless.  I’m ashamed to admit that I ended up taking it home and dousing it in hot sauce.  My side of sauteed spinach wasn’t tasteless; it tasted metallic and fishy and permeated with burnt garlic.

On another occasion, I ordered the truffle goat cheese raviolis, served with mushroom ragout, butternut squash and a brown butter vinaigrette.  This was the vegetarian version of their seared scallops, which normally come on top of the aforementioned ingredients, and was actually quite good, but nothing to write home about and not enough to entirely redeem Magnolia for me.

Look, everyone else seems to love Magnolia so you should go check it out.  No seriously, just go.  I’ll stay home and warm up a nice can of soup.  I’ll be fine, really.  I’m sure there’s something good on Bravo.

he said:

Like the wife, I’m surprised we’ve eaten here more than once. I think what it comes down to is that Magnolia offered a well-timed Groupon. As the meat eater of the group, I feel the need to carry the weight of this review, but I’m afraid I may let you down.

In struggling to find a way to describe my experience at Magnolia, I’m reminded of our first date. It’s kind of a long story, but the quick version is: We lived in different cities, and we decided to meet up in Mexico, because, hey, why not have your first date at an all-inclusive resort, right?

Anyway, while we were there we met with a tour operator who was offering day trips from the resort. He showed us a flyer of his offerings, and each trip had a short descriptor.  A fishing tour was “pulse pounding,” scuba was “electrifying,*” You get the idea. Whoever made the flyer ran out of extreme adjectives apparently, because a cave snorkeling trip (the one we ended up going on) was described as enjoyable.

Enjoyable. Don’t oversell it or anything. It’s just enjoyable.**

*Electrifying – not a good word to describe an activity in which you’re surrounded by water, or have a chance to come into contact with eels.

**I’m actually very thankful for this little bit of underwhelming salesmanship. My wife and I saw this at the exact same time and it struck each of us as funny in exactly the same way. It made us realize how similar our senses of humor are and it was one of the first “moments” we shared. 

Back to Magnolia. On one trip I had the roasted half chicken over Dijon whipped potatoes and brussels sprouts.  Enjoyable. On another trip, I had the hangar steak and house cut fries with sautéed spinach and blue cheese.   Or was it the beef tenderloin with braised beef short rib and sautéed spinach in a red wine reduction? Whatever it was, it too was enjoyable, but clearly didn’t make an impression.

I don’t have any real complaints.  But don’t you think it’s a problem that I can barely remember what I had? I do remember thinking “this is good,” but in a city like Chicago, with the restaurants we have, good is forgettable. Enjoyable is not enough.

The funny thing - that cave snorkeling trip we went on, the one described as enjoyable, was so much more than that. It was wonderful, a perfect activity for two people on a first date who are interested in nature and swimming and seeing things off the beaten path. For Magnolia though, enjoyable is a pretty accurate description.  It’s a nice place to have a nice meal, but probably not worth going out of the way for.


Jin Ju, Andersonville

Tuesday, December 14th, 2010

he said:

The problem with food these days is that there is just no danger. In days of yore, going out to eat meant risking the tusks of a mastodon. These days, dining danger is pretty much limited to a steak knife falling into your lap.

But that’s not the case with Korean food. Entering a Korean restaurant is like playing a real life game of hot potato. From the barbecue pit right in the middle of your table to magma-hot bowls of food, you should feel more nervous than a hog-tied steer on branding day.

Now that’s what I call an entertaining meal.

Hot Pots

Which brings me to Jin Ju in Andersonville. Korean food is a favorite of mine, and I was surprised that my wife had never eaten there. It seems like one of the few places in our neighborhood where she hasn’t been.

My favorite Korean dish is dol sot bi bim bap, a mixture of rice, beef, beans sprouts, spinach, carrots, shiitake mushrooms, shredded radish, green leaf lettuce, fried egg and a spicy red pepper paste sauce, served in a sizzling  bowl.

It’s plopped down in front of you, you mix it up with your chopsticks, and everything cooks  together. The hot bowl brings it all to a tasty state of golden, brown and delicious. My favorite part is the slightly charred rice that’s spent too much time at the bottom. It’s hard and crunchy, almost a fried taste, unlike any rice I’ve found elsewhere.

Less sizzle, more taste

Before I forget, let me get to the non-sizzling part of the meal. We started with the kim chee pajun, which is a fried scallion pancake with kim chee in it. Holy crap. So good. Would have been happy if the meal ended right then and there.

Our meals came with traditional Korean sides, including kim chee, which is another reason I love Korean cuisine. I don’t know what all these little dishes are called, but I find them all so tasty. Most of them feature a sharp, fresh taste from the vegetables, with a hotness to  balance out the flavor.

Jin Ju is spare and dark, making for a strange empty dance-club-like atmosphere on a Monday evening. But whatever, the service was great and the food was good, so I don’t mind. Plus, they have Korean beers! I tried an OB and a Hite, both firsts for me. Granted, they tasted a lot like a Miller Lite.

I’m so excited that this place is in our hoody. And the extra fried egg on top is that there’s one place in the neighborhood that I can claim to have introduced my wife to.

she said:

A hog-tied steer, eh?  Oddly, when I’m looking for a good dining experience,  I usually don’t think about danger.  Ambience?  Yep.  Delicious menu?  For sure.  Danger? Not so much, although  sometimes I get it anyway   (see purse fire / Otom post).

For years, I’ve associated Korean food with heavy meat eating (which is kinda dangerous, right?)  and have, therefore, shied away from it.  What a crying shame.  As it turns out, if Jin Ju is an accurate representation (and it very well may not be), there’s a whole lot I can eat.  Unlike my husband, I’m somewhat unfamiliar with Korean cuisine.  Here’s what I know to be true:

  1. There are usually a lot of sides.
  2. The most popular dish is bi bim bop, which is fun to eat and even more fun to say.  I like to wiggle my hips as I do so (as I say it, not as I eat it).
  3. A lot of the food, especially veggies, are fermented so they taste tangy and pickley and spicy all at once.

Bi Bim Bop, courtesy of iFood

About the whole fermentation thing.  I disagree that fermented veggies taste fresh.  Sharp, yes.  Fresh, no. The truth is, I don’t really like kim chee, which I know is downright sinful according to most Korean-food lovers, but I think fermented things taste, well, like they’ve been fermented.  And that’s the opposite of fresh.

No matter.  My san chae bi bim bop (which you can say with hip motion or while playing a set of air drums),  featured the same ingredients he listed above, minus the beef, and was incredible.  The fried pancake appetizer was one of the most flavorful dishes I’ve ever had.  For serious.

I enjoyed the hip (used as an adjective this time) minimalism and low-light.  I also enjoyed our waiter, who inexplicably placed his hand on my shoulder each time he addressed me.

Oh, and Jin Ju serves lychee martinis, which I loooove.  The flesh of a lychee fruit, in case you don’t know, is translucent and white and oh-so-sweet.  I couldn’t taste a trace of alcohol in my tini, which could be dangerous, but the sweetness was a wonderful counterbalance to my spicy dish and the booze (there must have been some in there, after all) helped make the shoulder touching a little less awkward.

Jin Ju will probably become a regular spot for us and I guarantee that each time we go, a certain somebody will remind me that he discovered it, which could get dangerous.


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.


La Ciudad, Uptown

Monday, January 4th, 2010

she said:

Don’t judge a book by its cover.  This very new Mexican restaurant is tucked away in an Uptown mini-mall, just a few doors down from a pawn shop and two fast food chain restaurants.  You forget that as soon as you walk in.  The decor is sophisticated, with dark red walls and stylish black and white photos.  Every single table was full while we were there and everyone looked to be having a great time.

In addition to ambience and friendly service, the food is also delicious and affordable.  We had a queso fundido* appetizer that I loved and the mole sauce is wonderful.  And it’s BYOB.  High five.

Oh, and don’t be fooled by the seemingly meat-centric menu.  They can make most items vegetarian and are happy to accommodate.  If you have a hard time eating Mexican food without a margarita to wash it down, bring the fixins’ and they’ll fix ‘em.

*Queso fundido is awesome because it makes eating an entire plate of melted cheese totally acceptable.  The trick is that the name of the dish is in another language.  Smoke and mirrors, my friends.  Smoke and mirrors.