michaeljordan_s_teaser.jpg
Chicago location of the figurehead's upscale steak house, housed in the Hotel Intercontinental.

Our Review

Michael Jordan's Steak House, the new Michigan Avenue tourist attraction opened by an obscure retired baseball player, has a fixation with the number 23. There's a 23-layer chocolate cake. There's a 23-ingredient chopped salad on the menu too, and in the second-floor dining rooms there are two mounted planks of scrap lumber with the number gouged into them. Seriously, what is the inherent attraction when professional athletes intersect with steak? Certain things that meet the owner's approval are, in fact, pretty good. The 45-day dry-aged Delmonico steak—MJ's customary go-to at One SixtyBlue—is indeed a marvel, a buttery, mineral-rich slab of bloody muscle, sprinkled with sea salt and lightly drizzled in a ginger balsamic sauce. That chopped salad is a manageable, enjoyable mess of textures. Then there's one of the most gloriously self- destructive expressions of garlic bread I've ever encountered: a stack of butter-soaked ciabatta smothered in Wisconsin blue cheese fondue. Still, putting all profligacy aside, for a chain, there are a good number of local products that make appearances—Black Dog Gelato, Pinn-Oak Ridge lamb, Prairie Fruits Farm cheese. That's particularly admirable in a place where the vibe is a lot less ostentatiously sceney than other recently opened steak houses, populated as it is by well-behaved tourist families, weary traveling businessfolk, and couples on date night, the women quietly indulgent, the men quietly awed by implied proximity to Number 23. Read the full review >>

Mike Sula

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