Omnivorous

Takashi Yagihashi

Tyllie Barbosa

What’s New

French-Asian magic, more upscale comfort food, and Korean-style fried chicken

I wonder what the Polish immigrants who probably once inhabited the compact Bucktown cottage at 1952 N. Damen would make of its transformations into Glory, Scylla, and now Takashi, chef Takashi Yagihashi’s new French-Asian synthesis. Dimly lit and battleship gray, the restaurant is cozy without being cramped, and a trip to the restroom provides a startlingly intimate look into the kitchen—you might stop short at the sight of the chef hard at work (golly, he’s not just a Beard Award winner, he’s . . . he’s human!). There are a number of irresistible keywords on the menu, things I’d probably order anywhere—duck fat, pork belly, sweetbreads—and a few I might instinctively avoid in a pricey place like this. But even a trio of small, cold tofu squares carries the potential for surprise and delight, dressed with seaweed, eggplant “caviar” and raw okra, and smoky marinated shimeji and enoki mushrooms. Another surprise, a konbu-marinated fluke sashimi appetizer garnished with a thread of saffron and a garlic chip, stirred up some controversy in my group, but I thought it worked just fine. There were no surprises where the well-prepared duck-fat-fried chicken or crispy, juicy veal sweetbreads were concerned, but their respective foils—spicy, slightly pickled cabbage slaw and cream-kissed green peppercorn sauce—made all the difference in the world. A wild striped bass with more tiny shimeji mushrooms was bathed in a savory broth that came with its own spoon, and pork belly with steamed buns, mizuna, pickled daikon, and a dollop of mustard reminded me of one the greatest sandwiches I’ve ever had, at a now defunct Chinatown restaurant. We did encounter a few less successful dishes: a roasted duck breast and leg confit needed some crisping, potato-and-prosciutto-encrusted salmon was simply dull, and there was an ugly collision of sours in a sheep’s-yogurt panna cotta with a yuzu gelee overcoat. With a handful of expensive disappointments like that, I wouldn’t call this place a terrific value, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t mostly terrific. —Mike Sula

Takashi 1952 N. Damen, 773-772-6170

I really wanted to like Rustik. A deep room done up in earth tones with big framed mirrors, a bar up front, a long banquette, and a little glassed-in winter garden, it felt stylish without being self-conscious. The staff was welcoming and attentive. The one-page menu of upscale comfort food and small but well-chosen wine list seemed to suit the Logan Square neighborhood well. But, alas, nothing I ate was good enough to make me return. Oversalting ruined the robust broth of a chicken noodle soup, and a salty Dijon vinaigrette marred the “ABLT” salad—spiky arugula and frisee topped with avocado, bacon, and cherry tomato. On the other hand, mac ’n’ cheese was bland despite the promise of smoked Gouda in the creamy sauce coating the cavatappi. Among the small plates, sliders with caramelized onions on Parker House rolls fared best, even if one ground sirloin patty was missing its horseradish mayonnaise. A Parker House roll bobbed in a soupy stew of overcooked root vegetables that was billed as “veggie potpie”; the server who boasted that we’d never guess it was vegetarian was wrong. Pork chops, brined and grilled, were agreeably juicy but less than exciting. With them were oddly watery yet firm mashed potatoes and unevenly cooked brussels sprouts. The only unqualified success—rich German butter cake—surpassed an intense but dry chocolate-espresso brownie. My advice for anyone who goes to Rustik: Let them eat cake! —Anne Spiselman

Rustik 2515 N. California, 773-235-0002

Doug Funke says he and partner Jae Lee sampled the goods at more than 200 chain and mom-and-pop fried chicken joints from coast to coast in preparation for opening Crisp, their new spot in Lakeview, which draws its main influence from Korean tong dak—whole fried chickens hacked into pieces. Until recently this dangerously attractive style was available only in slightly forbidding bars such as the Hourglass or Korean-Chinese restaurants like Great Sea (wings only at the latter). Now there are two new Korean chains pushing the stuff, one out in Mount Prospect and the other in the Niles H-Mart, but this homegrown effort seems the most promising. There are two offerings representing the Korean style, and while Funke admits the heat in the “Crisp BBQ” has been turned down for American palates, it’s still a commendable version—dark red, slightly sweet, and sprinkled with sesame seeds—and customers have the option to dial it back up. “Seoul Sassy” is a more multidimensional soy-ginger-garlic-based recipe, sweeter but not obnoxious. The sauces here don’t overwhelm the bird but rather complement the crackly skin; in fact, they’re so integrated it seems strange to even call them sauces. Unsauced “Plain Jane” fried chicken is also available, as are buffalo wings made from a recipe “stolen” from the Ravenswood hot dog stand Budacki’s Drive-In, owned by Lee’s family. If I have any worry for this ambitious project, it’s that Lee and Funke are overextending themselves by offering cutesy renditions of bi bim bop, mandoo, salads, sandwiches, sides, and Korean “burritos,” all with a dizzying abundance of options. White rice or organic brown rice in the bowl? Steamed or fried dumplings? Want cheese with that burrito? Bacon, beef, chicken, or shrimp in that salad? They could just sell fried chicken skin and I’d be satisfied. —Mike Sula

Crisp 2940 N. Broadway, 877-693-8653

OTHER RECENT OPENINGS

La Cocina de Frida 5403 N. Clark, 773-271-1907

The Libertine Gastropub & Lounge 1615 N. Clybourn, 312-654-1782

Nxxt Restaurant & Bar 2700 W. Chicago, 773-489-6998

Schwa 1466 N. Ashland, 773-252-1466

Sixteen 401 N. Wabash, 312-588-8030

Skewers Grill 4609 N. Lincoln, 773-293-0300

For more on food and drink, see our blog The Food Chain.

New Too

Sixteen more recent openings

Bbop Lounge
1507 N. Sedgwick | 312-981-1775

$$$Asian, Korean | Dinner: seven days | Open late: Every night till 11 | BYO

The folks behind Wrigleyville’s Bbop built an admirable gateway to the basics in their fast, cheap take-out joint, but their new effort, in the former Heat space, nullifies some of that good karma. All brushed-steel furnishings and house music—our waiter actually shucked and jived while we dithered over the menu—the narrow space is a showcase for sugar shock and overpriced Korean standards. You can tell a lot about a place by its panchan, and here the spread of nine preprandial little bites come to the table on a single triangular plate which, creditably, was repeatedly replenished upon request. This was accompanied by a precious little pancake, half the size of a self-respecting Koreatown version. The sweet potato cellophane noodles in the chap chae, a simple and typically oily dish that’s hard to improve upon, slid limply to one side of the heavy flatware and were $11—at Bbop, the same damn thing in a takeout container is $5.75. Bulgogi were insipidly sweet and tasted precooked. But the greatest sin was the o jing ah bokum (panfried squid), sectioned tentacles and zucchini in a deluge of ketchupy-sweet red pepper sauce. Kimchi chigae (stew), a shockingly poor value at $10, was tasty but small. Bbop Lounge is BYO with no corkage fee for now. —Mike Sula

Cheogajip/Pizza & Chicken Love Letter
8273 W. Golf, Niles | 847-583-1582

$Korean, Pizza | Lunch, dinner: seven days | Open late: monday-saturday till 11 | Reservations not accepted

In South Korea, curious interpretations of American fast food are extremely popular. Fried chicken “hofs” serving beer and whole chickens, cut up and drenched in thick sweet-spicy sauce, seem to be on every street corner, and Italian restaurants, hilariously but less successfully to my taste, dress pizzas with bulgogi, root vegetables, and sweet mayonnaise. Pizza & Chicken Love Letter, the first local incursion of Korean megachain Cheogajip, offers both (but no beer) from its location deep in a suburban strip mall. Small hacked chickens are fried to order in a neutral batter—similar to Brown’s, a friend observed—and served plain or drenched in sweet or sweet-hot sticky sauce with a powerful cinnamon note. Though Korean-Chinese restaurants like Great Sea and V.I.P do a much better job with this style, the chain also offers rotisserie and popcorn chicken. Pizza crusts are thick and biscuitty, and in the case of the Royal Potato pizza, stuffed with mashed sweet potato, topped with pepperoni and potato chunks, and drizzled with mayo. Eat-in orders are preceded by diced daikon in supersweet vinegar and repulsive shredded raw cabbage smothered with Thousand Island dressing and canned corn. Order a combo for the full Lost in Translation novelty and brace for a hallucinogenic MSG rush. —Mike Sula

Connoisseur
1041 W. Grand | 312-739-3055

$$Small Plates, American Contemporary/Regional, Southern/Soul Food | Dinner: Sunday, Tuesday-Saturday | Closed Monday | Open late: Saturday till 3; Sunday, Tuesday-Friday till 2

Sipping Dom at Connoisseur, you’d be forgiven a spit-take when the Prodigy’s “Smack My Bitch Up” comes over the sound system. Owner Gerald Lott explains he’s aiming for that disconnect between sophisticated sips and untamed tunes: “It starts conversation,” he told us, and that’s the point here, where comfy pillows and low light encourage relaxed chats. The menu is limited, but we got off to a smashing start with sweet potato soup, sprinkled with nuts and packing subtle chile heat. Chef Dan Deaton, a native of Baton Rouge, gets extra points considering his minikitchen contains only two burners and a microwave. There are around 40 wines available by glass or bottle; we dug the Wolfgang Concerto gruner veltliner, an exceptionally well-balanced white, and the ’04 Faust cabernet, a dry yet fruity red that worked well with creamier dishes, like the crab and Brie, which was kind of like a Frenchified queso fundido. Pricing seems steep, but this is a comfortable place for couples to lounge, and the owners are thinking hard about how to engineer a memorable and enjoyable wining-and-dining experience. —David Hammond

Ja’ Grill
1008 W. Armitage | 773-929-5375

$$Jamaican | Lunch, dinner: seven days | Open late: Friday & Saturday till 11 | Reservations accepted for large groups only

Rogers Park, Chatham, Maywood—all areas whose lucky residents have easy access to excellent home-style island food. Now Lincoln Park does too. Ja’ Grill chef Errol Gallimore, who came here from Jamaica in 1992, learned to cook from his mother and did time in south-side restaurants before he was tapped to run the kitchen at this comfortable barstaurant. The few faults I found with his food don’t seem to be a result of underestimating the neighborhood’s tastes. Jerk chicken, accompanied by a sharp, vinegary jerk sauce in hot or mild, was passable, but it just didn’t have the ethereal smokiness and juiciness of its counterpart at, say, Tropic Island. And stewed chicken was a bit dry despite its nice dark brown stew sauce. But the seafood dishes I tried were terrific: a grouper escoveitch piled with julienned vegetables was biting and fruity, jerk catfish had the smokiness and spice the chicken lacked, and a murky fish soup with pumpkin, cho cho (chayote), and house-made dumplings had a powerful kick. My favorite dish, though, was the simple, soft cabbage and carrots steamed in coconut milk. The owner, Tony Coates, stopped by our table to encourage us to suck every scrap of deliriously rich meat off the oxtails—not like we needed the extra motivation. This is a nice quiet spot for lunch, with old-school reggae on the sound system, but on weekend nights it’s bumping, with a DJ in the downstairs lounge and revelers drinking up the house rum punch, made with three kinds of rum and tropical juices. The bar’s open till 2 AM Friday and Saturday, 1 AM Thursday. —Mike Sula

Lao Beijing
2138 S. Archer | 312-881-0168

$$Asian, Chinese | breakfast, Lunch, dinner: seven days | BYO

The latest of Tony Hu’s regional Chinese restaurants, Lao Beijing is quickly taking its place alongside sibling Lao Shanghai and flagship Lao Sze Chuan. Artworks depicting classic Beijing dishes set the stage for plump steamed lamb dumplings and crisp scallion pancakes with either deliciously rich, smoky, hoisin-scented pork or egg with chive, simple yet satisfying. Cucumber salad is accented by the familiar flavors of peanut, cilantro, and scallions with a spike of chile pepper; far less common is cucumber with chunks of cartilaginous pig ear, a true textural treat. Chef’s Special Crispy Eggplant is not to be missed, volcanically hot eggplant encased in crackling crisp coating with just a hint of sweetness. Lamb with cumin, served either on the bone or skewered, is smoky and rich. Beijing duck served in three courses—first shredded duck with chive and sprouts, then duck soup with tofu and greens, then (and best of all) crisp, fatty, succulent duck skin wrapped in pancakes with hoisin sauce and scallion—deserves its namesake status. Breakfast is served from 9 AM to noon every day and skews toward traditional Chinese, with congee, soy milk and the various “bits and pieces” the Chinese love so dearly. —Gary Wiviott

Lao Shanghai
2163 S. China Pl. | 312-808-0830

$$Asian, Chinese | Lunch, dinner: seven days | Open late: Friday-Sunday till 11 | BYO

It’s often said that China’s largest seaport doesn’t have a cuisine of its own but borrows liberally from surrounding areas. But it’s true that the Shanghainese are fond of cooking with sugar, alcohol, and vinegar, and they make particular use of “red cooking,” in which meats are braised slowly in soy sauce. You find all of those characteristics represented on the Shanghai side of the menu in Lao Sze Chuan owner Tony Hu’s latest project, but the measure of its success will be the consistency of the xiao long bao, or steamed soup dumplings. For some reason, this delicate and volatile snack is notoriously difficult to reproduce outside of China. Either the dough is too thick, the filling is poor, or—most commonly—there’s no soup inside at all. At times Lao Shanghai’s dumplings suffer from thickness, but at least every one I’ve eaten actually contained soup (though not enough), and that’s why I’ll damn it with faint praise by saying I’ve had none better in town. Otherwise, the “eight precious stir-fried in hot sauce” was particularly good, uniform dice of pork, vegetables, and tofu cooked with peanuts in a spicy-sweet black vinegar. The Shanghai-style fish fillet, in a thick, bland sauce with wood ear mushrooms, was unimpressive to gaze upon but the fish was terrifically silky and fresh, and contrasted nicely with the crunchy fungus. Braised pork belly in preserved bean curd sauce, a bright orange-red shimmering blob made in the aforementioned red cooking style, was tender enough to be baby food and deceptively subdued in comparison to its treacly appearance. Shanghai rice soup, a sweet wine-based hot broth with soft rice and balls of rice gluten, makes a nice finish. Other seminal Shanghainese dishes available include stir-fried eels, drunken chicken, and steamed or deep-fried buns. Want to get your waiter’s attention—or the entire restaurant’s? Press the handy buzzer provided on each table. —Mike Sula

Lockwood
17 E. Monroe | 312-726-7500

$$$$$American Contemporary/Regional | Breakfast, lunch, dinner: seven days | Open late: Friday & Saturday till 11

With so many tony hotel dining rooms biting the dust, you’ve got to hand it to the Palmer House Hilton for giving Lockwood a chance. The handsome room exudes contemporary sophistication, but strikes against it include the lack of a street entrance, high prices, and a mantra of “fresh seasonal foods” that doesn’t distinguish it from scads of other trendy spots. Throw in service that, at least on my visit, was well meaning but unpolished and the pressure is on executive chef Phillip Foss (Le Cirque, Bistrot Margot) to provide the wow factor. At dinner he concentrates on eight appetizers ($12-$18) and as many entrees ($26-$52), plus five- ($85, $120 with wine pairings) and nine-course ($110, $185 with pairings) tasting menus. Highlights of the tasting menu the night I visited were a “Russian sampler” of layered smoked sturgeon and yellow beets coated with vodka creme fraiche and crowned by osetra caviar; tender sliced squab paired with “not faux gras” (i.e., the real thing) and accented by bitter chocolate sauce; and a rectangle of Meadow Creek Dairy Grayson, a raw cow’s milk cheese served with mashed persimmons, truffle honey, and brioche. Salty red-wine sauce was all that marred prime beef tenderloin blanketed with black truffles, and while the brownie in “Bertha’s famous brownie revisited”—named for Bertha Palmer—was dry, the accompanying chocolate ice cream and mousse were lovely. The a la carte lineup was mixed. I enjoyed the light yet rich “oysters and pearls,” Island Creek oysters with caviarlike globes of chenin blanc and a side of hollandaise, but no one would mistake the slightly bitter “faux gras”—duck liver terrine—for genuine foie gras. Creative cocktails and craft beers were more impressive than the wine list, which doesn’t give vintages even though prices range from $40 to $600. —Anne Spiselman

Mythos Greek Taverna
2030 W. Montrose | 773-334-2000

$$$Greek, Mediterranean | Dinner: Sunday, Tuesday-Saturday | Closed Monday | BYO

For years people have been predicting that Greek food is headed for a renaissance, so I was hoping it was finally here when this BYOB double storefront opened in December. Early press suggested sister act Toni Di Meola and Vicky Zervas were dishing up lovingly prepared, unique specialties in a welcoming atmosphere far removed from the weary spectacle of Greektown tourist traps. But Lincoln Square is something of a Little Greektown, and in its own way Mythos is just as theatrical, with the voluble Di Meola running the front of the house and Zervas making frequent appearances from the kitchen. While the food is certainly an improvement over Halsted—actual Greeks are eating here—I’m not joining the lovefest. A few things were very good: the loukaniko sausage, fragrant with fennel and orange peel, is terrific, as are the garlicky tzatziki and the zucchini-and-cheese fritters, kolokytho keftedes, with a side of skordalia for schmearing. But most of the flesh I’ve tried—psaronefri, pork tenderloin in mustard sauce; Papou’s Tygania, pork chunks sauteed in white wine; mbiftekia feta, a kind of a Greek cheeseburger, hold the bun—was brought out overcooked and tough. Most tragically, a grouper baked in garlic butter was so thoroughly murdered that for all I know it might have been a river carp. Much has been made about the made-to-order pastichio, essentially an unspectacular-tasting bowl of pasta and ground meat, with a hint of cinnamon. It’s just one of many dishes here that look good on paper, less so on the plate. —Mike Sula

Omaggio
1639 Orrington, Evanston | 847-570-0500

$$$Italian, Pizza | Lunch: monday-saturday; dinner: seven days | Open late: Friday & Saturday till 11

Rather jaded about wood-oven-fired pizza at this point, I wasn’t much looking forward to venturing up to Evanston for some on a bitterly cold night. But it turns out Omaggio, the regional Italian restaurant from the owner of La Petite Amelia, has a lot more than pie to offer. The menu changes monthly—currently it’s focused on the Veneto—but when I visited there were a handful of specialties from the Valle d’Aosta, the small northwestern region that borders France and Switzerland in the Alps. A board of moist polenta with grilled Italian sausage, roasted red peppers, and delectable herb-roasted mushrooms was the perfect antidote to the wind chill. Frutta di mare added shaved fennel and delicious white anchovies to the usual mix of octopus, squid, and shrimp, all very fresh. Pizza was the only thing to slightly disappoint, its crust less than ideally chewy, but even here the spicy salami and house-made giardinera were commendable, so I wouldn’t turn my nose up at other varieties, which include pizza di mare and a white pizza with cremini, shiitake, and oyster mushrooms and truffle essence. Pastas include a few curveballs in porcini pappardelle with mushrooms and salami-and-cheese ravioli in broth; braciole, saltimbocca, and grilled tuna with grilled fennel, olives, and a chickpea ragu are among the entrees. We selected a couple quartinos of a decent barbera from the all-Italian wine list. The decor is a bit of a hodgepodge, with paintings suitable for a dentist’s office, but the atmosphere’s warm, and in an adjoining room there’s a charming deli and panini bar. —Kate Schmidt

Prosecco
710 N. Wells | 312-951-9500

$$$$Italian | Dinner: Monday-Saturday | Closed Sunday | Open late: Thursday-Saturday till 11

Special-event prices demand a special occasion. So for my birthday I went to Prosecco, a posh Italian boite in River North where the entrees top out at $38 for a veal chop. Unfortunately, with a few exceptions, the restaurant did little to make us feel, well, special. The complimentary toot of namesake bubbly was nice, and our server was unflaggingly sweet and helpful, going so far as to have the sommelier open an off-list bottle when the wine we chose was out of stock. But Prosecco is the sort of top-heavy place where phalanxes of handsome managers in dark suits do a lot of glad-handing while the lone guy bringing out the food is practically running. That top-heavy philosophy applies equally to the kitchen, which seems to operate under the rule of thumb “when in doubt, add butter—and truffles.” Orechiette tartufate was a devastatingly rich plate of pasta tossed with wild mushrooms, sun-dried tomatoes, artichoke hearts, and a whole lot of black truffle cream and white truffle oil. At first bite (or three) delicious, it was so surprisingly lacking in depth—and so damn rich—that it quickly lost its charm. Seared diver scallops, caramelized to a crisp, came on a puddle of vanilla-scented prosecco reduction powerfully reminiscent of vanilla yogurt. They were, again, so rich—and so salty—I barely made it through half. We had better luck with a Cornish game hen, whose stuffing of porcini mushrooms, sausage, chestnuts, and black truffles delivered enough smoky, nutty flavor to give the dish structure. While the thigh meat was dry, the breast was moist and tender. We shared the pasta and an appetizer, a trio of white tuna, ahi tuna, and salmon crudo—only the citrusy salmon really sang. And though we steered clear of the veal chop, the filet mignon, and the gold-leaf-dusted risotto, the bill still came to more than $200. —Martha Bayne

Risque Cafe
3419 N. Clark | 773-525-7711

$$American, Barbecue/Ribs | lunch: saturday-sunday; Dinner: seven days | Saturday & Sunday brunch | Open late: Saturday till 3, other nights till 2 | Reservations not accepted

It seems, in the wake of the phenomenal success of Smoque, that barbecue has become the new black. In fact, Chris Peckat, late of Meritage, appears to be taking his, ahem, cue, not only from Barry Sorkin and company’s model of barbecue in relatively polished surroundings (i.e., tables, not car hoods) but also the meathead chic of the Twisted Spoke and the classic-tattoos-and-good-booze shtick of Kuma’s Korner. But it’s all been taken very badly. The dark red painted room, accented with brushed steel and hung with giant paintings of tattooed cheesecake pinups, is permeated with the scent of smoked meat polluted by a weird humid must, like the smell of a wet woodpile. I don’t know if that’s related to the particular smoking process—the restaurant says it uses bourbon-soaked wood chips in an electric smoker. Almost all of the choices carried a mere whiff of smoke but barely retained any taste of it. Ribs were mealy, pulled pork and brisket forgettable, and chicken was slimed in a weak sauce. One of the most interesting choices, house-smoked bacon, was a tepid cube of barely rendered fat that required a solid half hour to crisp up back at the lab. Starters were undistinguished, mostly fried bar food, aside from a soft pretzel that came to the table barely thawed. There’s a wide selection of quality craft beers and whiskeys, many of which are good values, but to the hordes of drunken louts that will fill this place on game days I don’t imagine the quality of the barbecue or the booze will matter much. —Mike Sula

Smoke Shack
800 W. Altgeld | 773-248-8886

$$Barbecue/Ribs | Lunch, dinner: seven days | Open late: Saturday till 5, Monday-friday till 3, Sunday till 11 | Reservations not accepted | BYO

I’d say that this is a more honest attempt at serving real barbecue in an underserved neighborhood than other recent efforts (see Risque Cafe). Watch what happens when you order a slab of ribs at this Lincoln Park shack: the cook will remove a tinfoil-wrapped package from a shelf in a holding oven filled with many other shrouded specimens and then reheat it (still wrapped) on the grill. Nope, they’re not trying to hide anything here, least of all the giant electric offset smoker behind the cash register. There’s nothing wrong with that sort of mechanical ’cue if you know how to use the equipment and don’t void your efforts by smothering and holding your meat for the devil knows how long. But the overrubbed rib cages here taste like they were rolled in sand and chile powder before being smoked black; still, of all the choices they come closest to actual barbecue, possessing a hit of smoke and a resistant if still slightly mealy chew. Thin sliced brisket is dry, pulled pork is unremarkable, and neither is helped by being swamped in sauce loaded with cider vinegar. That dependence on the apple is echoed in the coleslaw and supersweet baked beans, though the Parmesan-crusted mac ’n’ cheese was decent. Like many less-than-distinguished barbecue joints, Smoke Shack exhibits its fear of commitment by offering a range of additional items—burgers, gyros, hot dogs, a few salads, and a grilled chorizo with chimichurri, a tip of the cap to the owner’s Argentine heritage. The best thing about this place is its late hours, which may allow it to profit from an indiscriminate and/or knackered clientele. —Mike Sula

Spertus Cafe
610 S. Michigan | 312-322-1700

$Kosher/Jewish/Deli | Breakfast, Lunch: Sunday-Friday; Dinner: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday Closed Saturday | Reservations not accepted

Come on, Wolf—not even a pizza? If you can pull it off at the airport and the MCA, and even invent Jewish Pizza for Spago, why not here? OK, so everything’s kosher, and the space overlooking the trees in Grant Park is architecturally pleasing, but aside from that this is a purely functional, phoned-in, shallow stab at celeb-chef branding offering only a soup of the day, a few unremarkable salads and sandwiches, some sweets, and not much else. I’m not sure what Puck contributed apart from his pasted mug on the carryout containers, or why this place requires the talents of a noted executive chef like Laura Frankel, who founded the kosher restaurant Shallots (now in Skokie) and authored her own kosher cookbook. Spertus donors could’ve saved a bundle without you, Wolf. —Mike Sula

Suzi’s Tea and Cafe
2965 N. Lincoln | 773-895-7408

$Teahouse, Breakfast | Breakfast, Lunch: Sunday, Tuesday-Saturday | Closed Monday

Since my husband and I love to go to breakfast on the weekends, we wanted to give this new spot a try. We weren’t the only ones, because almost all of the tables were taken, and the servers seemed a little overwhelmed by the crowd. However, they handled it pretty well, and I don’t think our service suffered. They have some interesting dishes, including lemon- ricotta pancakes (delish!) and “Dad’s Waffle,” which has crumbled bacon inside. My husband’s father used to make him waffles like this, so it was a real treat. The tea selection (there are 135 varieties) may be a little daunting for nonaficionados. My husband and I are coffee drinkers, but we ordered tea to give it a try. It was good, but I think we’ll stick to coffee. —Lisa K. Coburn, Rater

Thai Urban Kitchen
500 W. Madison | 312-575-0266

$$Thai | Lunch, dinner: seven days | Saturday & Sunday brunch

Can there be a more depressing place downtown at 8 PM on Tuesday than this huge, modish, black-and-white echo chamber, devoid of diners, the Arcade Fire moaning on the sound system, and the sushi chef despondently slumped behind his fish case? That was the scene on my visit after the preopera crowd had departed. You’d think with the full attention of the kitchen the conceptually interesting if pricey Ameri-Thai fusion dishes would be perfectly executed. That’s what we hoped when our first appetizer arrived: a fresh, luscious tuna poke bonded with avocado and bathing in a tomato water bright and citrusy even in January. But the calamari with a gingery breading that followed appeared to have been rubberized in not-hot-enough oil, and the Kobe beef strips in a salad with too many raw red onions must have come from a tough old bastard that free ranged on tumbleweed and stinging nettles. Orange-glazed salmon in pineapple salsa was overcooked in defiance of a request for medium rare; roast duck breast in lychee curry was similarly snuffed. One of the only dishes to escape this abuse was Amish chicken with pearl onions, cashews, and roasted chiles, which had the natural texture and flavor you’d hope for. I’m tempted to assume such consistent overcooking is by perverted design, but that’s no more disturbing than the $12 tag on a single seared diver scallop (served on an admittedly delicious cauliflower puree). Thai Urban Kitchen, from the folks behind Sura, serves a more straightforward and inexpensive Thai menu to mobs of office workers at lunchtime. I’ll take bets on how much longer they serve dinner. —Mike Sula

Uncommon Ground
1401 W. Devon | 773-465-9801

$$$American Contemporary/Regional, Global/Fusion/Eclectic | Breakfast, lunch, dinner: seven days | Saturday & Sunday brunch | Open late: Friday & Saturday till 1, Monday-Thursday till midnight, Sunday till 11 | Reservations accepted for large groups only

It’s on a flat stretch of Devon in the old Speakeasy space, but somehow this new Rogers Park outpost of the Wrigleyville hangout Uncommon Ground has an Alpine feel—must be the fireplaces, upscale-rustic decor, and leather easy chairs. As at the original, the seasonal menu emphasizes locally produced, family farmed, and organic products including organic infused vodkas. The menu’s eclectic and surprisingly carnivore-centric given the crunchy mantras: currently it’s pizza or pumpkin ravioli for you vegetarians interested in an entree. I tried the Mediterranean Trio—hummus, eggplant salad, and tzatziki served with pita and marinated olives—and while I was initially disconcerted by the fried pita chips, the dips were uniformly fresh with herbs. Duck confit quesadillas weren’t quite the hit out of the park they sounded like, but apart from the sweet potato salsa—the tuber’s too firm to work well in place of fruit—I can’t really fault them either, and there is that seasonal thing of course. Winter-appropriate large plates include cassoulet, a buffalo rib eye, and bacon-wrapped meat loaf with mashed potatoes. Breakfast and brunch (which is popular—remember those vodkas) feature standards like huevos and a breakfast burrito but also whole-wheat banana pancakes with organic Himalayan goji berry syrup and a breakfast melt with Nueske peppercorn bacon served on Red Hen black bread with onion—I am so there. Live entertainment most nights of the week. —Kate Schmidt

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