One of the most loved and sometimes hated times of year for the Chicago food scene is Restaurant Week. The 10 day stretch when a couple of hundred restaurants put together prix fixe menus of $22 for lunch and either $33 or $44 for dinner. The best way to look at this is many diners will get to try places that otherwise they might never venture into, and restaurants get a nice boost in business during an otherwise pretty dead part of the winter. The negative view is people end up at overcrowded restaurants full of cheapskates, deal with servers annoyed because their tips go way down and the workload goes way up, and people get turned off of places forever based on a single anomalous experience.
I, for once, am choosing to be an optimist. And really, this long holiday weekend full of Restaurant Week experiences did a great job of giving me shiny happy thoughts about the concept. I won't be rating any of these except for one, because I feel as though in most cases I cannot say I really have a true handle on the establishment. I know what I like and don't like about each place, but until I have the freedom to make my own choices, I can't fully judge.
The first stop on the Magical Gastronomy Tour was Naha on Friday night. There was a time when Naha was one of THE restaurants in Chicago. Now the buzz is gone, and scores of new places have opened, and in many cases closed, while Carrie Nahabedian keeps on cranking out excellent Mediterranean inspired dishes. The room still speaks of elegance and refinement without being overwhelmingly so. After all, they let me in there, so they can't be too snooty.
This meal was pretty much all highlights. Squash soup was warm and hearty, relaxing the mind and body for the rest of the meal. Main courses of quail with seared foie gras and braised beef brisket with cannelloni of acorn, squash, and bacon were flawlessly executed. Particularly the quail dish, where the quail, the foie gras, and the earthy mix of grain and herbs combined to stimulate every part of the palate at once. This was a true delight of a meal.
Saturday night, very late Saturday night, brought us to SushiSamba Rio. Our reservation was for 9:30. When we arrived at 9:25 we were told things were running late, about 20-25 minutes. So we prepared to wait. And wait. And listen to very loud pulsing dance music courtesy of the DJ right inside the entrance.
I'm not the most patient person by nature, but I'm okay with a wait if need be. I've done my time in line for Doug Sohn's encased meat goodness, or for the overrated burgers at Kuma's. I remember waiting in line back when you had to stand outside of a Carson Piere Scott in order to go to Ticketmaster on a Saturday morning. I've watched my skin turning interesting shades of red waiting at Six Flags for a roller coaster that will give me two minutes of fun after a 90 minute wait.
None of these however meant waiting in the seventh ring of collar popping hell. Right now there is a movement towards food trucks, but I think the hair gel truck market could make a killing parked right outside of this establishment. Women in heels they can barely maneuver in, men with awful fake tans and expensive shirts they spent 20 minutes untucking in just the right way. The stink of privilege and excess without purpose. I don't mind people spending money on fine things. This blog is a testament to that. But this is money spending in order to pull rank, to preen in front of others. These people are not my people.
None of this would have happened if I hadn't gone for a shave earlier that day. To deny the mighty beard is impossible. We would have been seated promptly and given many free pieces of sashimi in honor of my hirsute awesomeness. But alas, I did not think my actions through, and was shorn, unbearded, and thoroughly unimpressive when we were standing around waiting for a table. Finally after 45 minutes Mrs. HCH decided this was just ridiculous. One of our party had recently suffered an injury to her ankle, and while she is now mobile and in good health, it is still not advisable for her to be standing for an hour. Also, multiple parties seemingly arrived sans reservations and were promptly seated. The fact these parties consisted of people wearing clothing that likely costs more than my car is a possible reason, and the amount of tall blonde women in their parties was much greater than the zero tall blonde women in our party could be involved as well. But as SSR is a restaurant, and not a modeling agency, I don't find that an acceptable reason to keep up standing. As soon as we went to the desk to point out our injured companion, a table right behind the host stand was immediately made available to us. Guess we should have mentioned that earlier. I suspect had we not, I would still be standing there, in an eternally sushiless state.
But there was sushi. In time.
The plan originally was to order from the Restaurant Week menu. But then our friends decided they were just ordering their favorite things and were off on a path we could not follow them down. Then as we looked at the full menu we too were overcome with a spirit of freedom that would power a thousand Tea Party rallies. We could order ANYTHING WE WANTED! No one could stop us. So we did. The highlights were Tiradito, thinly sliced A5 Kobe beef with yuzu soy and a little hint of truffle and salt, and the Pacific roll with King crab and Asian pear in soy paper. These were so good we ordered them a second time after finishing our meal. The sashimi was fine, but nothing exciting.
Once we were seated the service was good enough. But it was hard to get past the way we were ignored for nearly an hour, seemingly overlooked in favor of other patrons. So really, I don't know what to do with this place. I hated most of the people surrounding us. The majority of our meal was unimpressive and overpriced for the quality. The front of house left me feeling small and insignificant. The service was nothing spectacular. And the price point is pretty damn high. But two dishes were transcendent. 5-star level cuisine. Among the best things I've ever eaten. Moving like watching a baby, a kitten, and a puppy nuzzling together and feeding a baby duck. But everything else about the place was so off-putting. I want to give it two stars and rail against it as simply a haven for Jersey Shore nozzles who don't know sushi from a hole in the ground. But I can't. Not when I am so happy eating something they served me. Let's say three stars and plan to get grub via takeout from there in the future.
There is one flawless and perfect cure for overexposure to monied mooks. A place where all of that bling and chest hair fade into memory, replaced with quiet middle aged people and waitresses who have been at their job since they first served a slab of T-Rex meat to a hungry caveman. That's right, Sunday night we dined in the suburbs. At a mall. Oak Brook Mall to be exact, where the suburban outpost of Mon Ami Gabi is located. We dined with Mama HCH and her hubby at 5:30 PM, that's how opposite of Saturday night this dinner was.
I'd never been to Mon Ami Gabi before Sunday night, but I was hopeful. Hopeful for a nice simple dinner. After the refined, somewhat stately Naha, and the pulsing and overwhelming SushiSamba Rio, the thought of a simple bowl of French Onion Soup and some steak frites in a room full of suburbanites out for their Sunday evening dinner kind of sounded like the most wonderful thing in the entire world.
It wasn't the most wonderful thing in the entire world. But it was very fulfilling. The French Onion soup was cheesy and full of onion and crouton and just hit the spot. The steak with Roquefort topping was tangy, creamy, meaty, and yet simple enough to let me enjoy the food without having to turn on my brain at any point. The dessert trio of pear sorbet, chocolate mousse and mini creme brulee was the perfect ending, giving me just enough of a sugar rush to get to my car in the vast Oak Brook Center parking lot. I know there is a closer location of Mon Ami Gabi in Lincoln Park, but I think it might be better to save going there for when I have occasion to be out west. The ambiance somehow fits the food in the same way that pulsing techno and SushiSamba Rio went together. This was good enough that I may actually visit my parents more often.
"No more after this" is the addict's mantra. One last drink, one last smoke, one last snort, one last hit. The defining characteristic of the addict is that it rarely if ever is truly the last whatever thing they're addicted to. So when I said Sunday night's dinner was the last Restaurant Week meal we could do, I'm sure I meant it even if no one else believed it. And that's why Monday afternoon I took a break from being so much smarter than the high school students on Jeopardy to see what might be a reasonable choice for that night's dinner.
Apparently, Rich Melman owns my brain. Because I ended up gravitating to Cafe Ba-Ba-Reeba. I don't know why. I had one bad memory of mediocre sangria and unimpressive tapas and a table with about 3,584 people at it. But something told me (that something most likely being the mind control chip Melman has installed in my head) to give it another chance. And I am glad I did.
The opening pinxto was bright and happy. Small cubes of a white cheese and quince. Light, sweet, and cleansing. Perfect way to start a meal. After that the parade of tapas began. One early highlight was the plato de casa with ham, chorizo, manchego, and hard bread with a tomato paste on it. The ham was a little salty, the tomato a little sweet and acidic. It played so well with each element balancing the other. The ahi tuna was flavored in a way I didn't expect. There were hints of basil and lemongrass. And is there anything more perfect in combination than bacon and dates? The answer, in case you were unsure, is "NO". Very friendly and attentive service made the meal relaxing and a surprising highlight of Restaurant Week.
So...what did we learn in this four night ramble through Restaurant Week. We learned that there can still be greatness found after the hype machine has moved along. We learned that if you're cool looking enough, you don't need a reservation. We learned that I can't give less than 3 stars to any place that gives me a 5 star dish. We learned that you CAN get a good meal in the suburbs! And we learned that I am addicted to good food. But then, we already knew that one.
Naha
500 N Clark St
Chicago, IL 60610
(312) 321-6242
SushiSamba Rio
504 N Wells St
Chicago, IL 60610
(312) 595-2300
HCH Rating - 3 stars
Mon Ami Gabi
260 Oakbrook Ctr
Oak Brook, IL 60523
(630) 472-1900
Cafe Ba-Ba-Reeba
2024 N Halsted St
Chicago, IL 60614
(773) 935-5000
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