February 22

A Bucktown Beard Dinner

If you like food, and you're into great food photography, better make reservations to attend a Friends of James Beard Dinner on March 19 at Spring Restaurant in Bucktown. The money raised goes toward the (now scandal-free) James Beard Foundation in New York, and it highlights the artistry of some of our finest local food and photography talent. Here's the invitation; see you there.

February 21

What The Cluck?

I'd read stories about the crazy Korean chicken fanatics in New York, and just as soon as I'd forgotten about them, along come a pair of new Korean fried chicken joints, promising crisp skin and juicy meat. The swankest of the new group is Crisp, which occupies a narrow storefront in Lake View. They make a very big deal about their secret recipe, which includes homemade breading that's applied by hand; also, no trans-fat oil, and a pressure frying system that really seals in the juices, while frying at a constant temperature (much like the folks at Pollo Campero, a Guatemalan chain with its own breed of fanaticism). In each case, the Korean style involves first frying, then applying (totally submerging and coating) the sauce.

Crisp offers four styles of chicken, served in either half ($8.95) or whole ($11.95) portions. The Plain Jane is just what it implies - no sauce, just fried chicken; this would be good to try for a control. Then move on to the Seoul Sassy, which is coated in a sticky-sweet sauce containing soy, ginger and garlic. Just as advertised, the chicken is mostly moist inside, and incredibly crisp outside. Rarely do I gobble up the skin, but in this case, I couldn't resist. They also offer BBQ and Buffalo flavors, and for lighter appetites, you can get five or 10-piece wing orders, which arrive as a whole wing - no mini-BW 3 versions here.

You'd think a place that was so focused on chicken would stick to that one thing, but at Crisp, they're also making "Buddha Bowls" (bibimbop for beginners) which are actually pretty good, and will save you a trip up to Koreatown. But the Korean burritos and original buds (potatoes) and sandwiches and salads just detract from the store's main emphasis. Rather than pander to the few locals who won't get it (or who will demand something more watered-down) why not just stick to your guns and keep the menu simple? The other two Korean fried chicken joints are in Northwest suburban Niles: one inside the Super H Mart, the other, a place called Cheo Ga Jip Pizza and Chicken, which apparently means something like "mother-in-law's house." (In Korea, it's custom for young couples, once they get engaged, to go have fried chicken at the mother-in-law's house, go figure). Can't wait to check it out...

February 7

Eating in Phoenix

Plenty of Cubs fans are already planning a trip to Mesa next month, to see their beloved team during Spring Training. I just wrapped up a few days of eating in the area, and despite the overwhelming number of chains down here, there are a few places worth checking out if you're planning a brief visit to the area. Sea Saw is perhaps the best Japanese restaurant the Southwest, and it's not even in Phoenix, but rather, Scottsdale. Before you start making botox/golfing/tennis jokes, consider that chef and owner Nobuo Fukuda gets much of his fish flown in directly from the famed Tsukiji Market in Tokyo. The restaurant is preparing to move across the street in May, but for now, it's just a small room dominated by a large, square dining "bar" that has maybe five tables squeezed in just beyond the bar. Open seven days a week, Chef Nobuo is typically behind the bar each night, dispensing arcane seafood terminology, answering questions about origin, and recommending suitable wine or sake pairings. The Omakase (tasting) menu is the way to go; the night we went, he prepared eight magical courses, including several varieties of fish I'd never even seen: needlefish, kawahagi, sayori, kuromutsu; his foie gras chawanmushi (custard) is ethereal, while a slow-cooked Jidori chicken egg had a yolk the color of gold, and melted over some Chinese long beans at the slightest nudge from my fork. We were served high-quality junmai-daiginjo sakes, as well as minerally gruner veltliners and even a lovely Hungarian tokaji-aszu to go with our triumvirate of custard, mousse and green tea ice cream.

The next night, some friends took me to the Barrio Cafe, a tiny, family-run operation serving regional Mexican fare. This friend of mine - a Chicago native - swore that the menu and food quality rivaled anything coming out of Rick Bayless' kitchen. I think the desert sun has adversely affected her taste buds, because this food was no where near the kind of Mexican Chicago diners are used to these days. Yes, the chiles en nogada (poblanos stuffed with dried fruit and chicken, surrounded by pomegranates in an almond sauce) was on par with what I've had at Adobo Grill, even though there was no pork and the sauce should have contained walnuts, but the cochinita en pibil (slow-roasted pork, with achiote seasoning and sour orange juice) was a mass of pork and appeared more steamed - a la barbacoa - than truly slow-roasted. An awkward side of barely cooked zucchini and some radish didn't help. The corn tortillas, all two of them, were limp, and the giant plate just didn't have the requisite seasoning that is indicative of this dish. Tableside guac carts are everywhere here, and while it's pretty much the same routine at Adobo, at least here they added fresh pomegranate seeds, which added a nice bit of texture.

Later that same night, we trekked over to downtown Phoenix, in a historic district next to the Science Museum, for what is, perhaps, the best pizza in the country. If Pizzeria Bianco is open, you can bet you'll see owner Chris Bianco behind the main counter, stretching dough, topping it with high-quality ingredients, and checking the score of a basketball or football game on his tiny color flip-down TV every now and then. Since they don't take reservations, chances are you'll be sent next door, to Bar Bianco, which reminds me of someone's house on a Big Ten campus, complete with porch and aged, wooden floors.

Bianco has a way with dough the pizzaolas in Chicago can only dream of. His beautiful, all-brick oven is more circular than beehive, the wood burning inside of it, a combination of local pecan, hickory and oak. I don't know how long he proofs his dough, or what his water-yeast-flour ratio is, but whatever it is, it's perfect. We tried a "Rosa" which was topped with red onions, Parmigiano Reggiano, fresh rosemary and Arizona pistachios; a "Biancoverde" with fresh mozzarella, Parm-Regg, fresh ricotta and peppery arugula, as well as a "Wiseguy" loaded down with wood-roasted onions, house-smoked mozzarella and toothsome hunks of fennel sausage. The oven is kept around 800 degrees, and when the pizzas exit, they have a beautiful char, lots of irregular holes and crevices, plus a great chew - not too crisp, not too soft. Even though they close at 10 p.m., it was a full-house on a Tuesday night, well past 10. For pizza this good, I'm not surprised. Here's hoping someone in Chicago figures out how to make a pie in the same league as Bianco one day.

February 1

A Tale of Three Lunches

While I'm usually out during the week scouting new locations to eat, I sometimes find myself actually having to meet with other adults, conducting a business lunch. These lunches are typically spent focusing on the conversation, rather than the food. But this past week, I had the pleasure of three different lunches, all in different locations, with three different friends or colleagues; all were notable for one reason or another.

My first lunch of the week was at Ina's, which is always thought of more as a breakfast destination. True, Ina does a busy lunch service and a moderate dinner business - her trans fat-free chicken is worth trying - but I was pleasantly surprised to find a Winter Salad on her menu. It reminded me of the Orchard Salad at Petterino's in the Loop, and it had that rare combination of texture, flavor and a great, homemade dressing. In this case, she combines crunchy romaine, jicama and apples with chewy bits of chicken and tart dried cranberries. The clincher is the slightly creamy green goddess dressing, which is applied judiciously. My companion and I each ordered it, and summarily devoured them.

My second lunch was a complete surprise. I eat at Shaw's Blue Crab Lounge frequently - it's a great midway point for friends who work on North Michigan Avenue - and I always get the same thing: either a lobster roll or a chopped seafood salad (both excellent, mind you). But for some reason, the tuna salad sandwich caught my eye. Our legendary server, Judy, pretty much runs the place, and heartily recommended it, reminding me that the tuna salad was made in-house. Sorry mom, but this version blew me away: the fresh albacore had just the right amount of mayo to bind it, along with some miniscule bits of celery that added just enough crunch. Talk about a far cry from Chicken-of-the-sea. This grown-up version is as close to canned tuna as a Prime, dry-aged porterhouse is to a chopped steak TV dinner. Nestled between two halves of beautiful, soft ciabatta bread, this sandwich has instantly become a favorite, and I love that Judy subbed in the sautéed spinach, instead of a side of fries.

Finally, I wasn't expecting much from Lockwood, the new upscale restaurant tucked just off of the lobby at the remodeled Palmer House Hotel. I was meeting another food writer there, and we both had heard mixed reviews about the place. The sedate room doesn't benefit from its adjacency to the loud lobby, but chef Phillip Foss is clearly trying to steer the menu in a more upscale direction. We both opted for sandwiches: my colleague went for a smoked salmon (slightly undercooked) with pickled fennel, while I was intrigued by a kobe (make that wagyu) "sloppy joe." Arriving on slightly salty pretzel rolls, this gooey, sloppy mess of well-marbled meat, chopped into bite-sized pieces, was an adult fantasy manwich. I love the sloppy joes of my childhood, even occasionally going for the messy version they offer at the Silver Cloud in Bucktown, but this upmarket version was well worth the price. I gave half of my sandwich to my colleague - we're both share Nazis - but afterward, I kind of regretted being so generous.