August 28

A Few Sweet Treats

I was driving through The Glen in North suburban Glenview this week, and had recalled someone telling about a relatively new gelato cafe along the main road, also known as Tower Drive.  I dropped by Via Gelato (1853 Tower Dr., 847-729-7088), almost directly across the street from the movie theater, and was suprised to see it so empty on a beautiful, sunny day.  When I asked about some of the flavors, the owner quickly told me that everything was made on-site, and they adhere to the traditions of artisanal gelato making, doing everything themselves, and never freezing the product to preserve it more than a day.  My barometer for flavors is always nocciola (hazelnut).  I've had wonderful renditions of this flavor at both Caffe Gelato (2034 W. Division St., 773-227-7333) in Wicker Park, as well as Gelato Uno (6625 W. Roosevelt Rd., 708-749-8866) in Berwyn.  The version at Via Gelato is just as good, if not better. With gelato, so much of it is about the texture, and they've managed to produce a gelato that is just sublime.  I also asked for sampling spoons of a few other flavors: coffee, pistachio, chocolate chip and another they had just come out with using honey and hazelnut (delicious).  The young couple who owns the place told me they were inspired to open a store that reminded them of their travels through Italy.  The best gelato of my life came from a little place in Venice called Alaska - where the owner listens to reggae music and makes the most ethereal gelato - light, flavor-packed, nice, long finish on your palate.  They had never heard of the place, but who cares.  This gelato ranks with the best of what is currently being produced in Chicago.

This morning, the owners of More were offering samples to the media, in anticipation of their new cupcake "salon" in the Gold Coast.  Smooshed between a Starbucks and pet boutique, More is the brainchild of Patty Rothman and fellow cupcake friends Henry Adaniya (formerly the GM/owner of Evanston's Trio) who is now doing his own version of Hot Doug's in Hawaii, as well as pastry chef Gale Gand (Tru, Osteria di Tramonto) of Food Network fame.  My first thought was, "great, another cupcake place to join the ranks of Swirlz, Molly's and Cupcakes."  There are also tasty versions at Southport Grocery, Goddess & Grocer as well as Sweet Mandy B's.  But all of these aforementioned cupcakes tend to be sweet.  At More, they also offering some beguiling savory flavors, mixing and matching cake recipes and buttercream toppings.  One of them, a mini-cupcake I tried, contained bacon and maple; another, a riff on a BLT, containing a solo heirloom tomato on top; one of the most intriguing replicated the classic Thai dessert of mango and sticky rice.  Instead of just opening a can of puree, the chef here actually cooks down fresh mangoes, then purees the juice into the buttercream; a coconut cake beneath provides the supplemental tropical notes (in place of coconut milk) and instead of steamed sticky rice, a few toasted rice krispies are flecked across the top.  As for sweets, Gand is clearly in her element: a red velvet that actually tastes like cocoa, not red food coloring and artificial chocolate.  The "more" cupcake is just an adult version of a Hostess cupcake (but way better), and even the carrot cake - which I'm not a fan of generally - had me with the candied ginger and not-too-sweet buttercream frosting.  The store is slated to open to the public on September 12.  I'm guessing once it opens, they'll immediately start planning on opening a few more.

August 19

Urban Belly is Chicago's Answer To Momofuku

When I heard Urban Belly was opening today, I was a little skeptical, and frankly, worried, that I wouldn't have a good experience.  I try to stay away from the arms race in food coverage currently being waged by TimeOut, Metromix and a host of other bloggers, all of whom seem to be descending upon restaurants as soon as they open.  In some respects, I can appreciate this.  Afterall, if a restaurant is open, charging full price and not offering "opening" discounts - as they sometimes do in New York to insulate themselves from official criticism - they should be subject to a review.  It's more common courtesy on the part of food writers to cut the owners some slack when they first open.  (They'll have to do so in the case of iCream, which tried to open in Wicker Park last Friday, and is still having problems.  I went there tonight for dessert, only to discover their liquid nitrogen tanks were out of commission, and hence, no ice cream).  Typically, a wait of a few weeks is standard, and most of the big time critics will visit at least twice, if not three times, before they'll print a review.  But for some reason, I've been drawn to Bill Kim's personal project since he announced it several months ago.  As Executive Chef at Le Lan, and a partner in Soul out in Clarendon Hills, he and partner Howard Davis have been taking a higher end approach; Le Lan originally began as a project between Arun Sampanthavivat (Arun's) and Roland Liccioni (Le Francais, Old Town Brasserie).  Billed as a Thai-French-Vietnamese lovechild of two masters, it evolved into a showcase for Kim's modern riffs on his Korean heritage.  Unfortunately, I've felt that the food lacked soul, pandering more to the River North/Clark Street throngs that are more interested in what's on the cocktail list than what kind of cabbage he was using in his inspired sides of daily kimchi.  But in what must surely be the best first-day opening of any restaurant in Chicago, Kim has swung for the fences, and has hit it out of the park.

In some ways, Belly feels like a response to David Chang's wild success in New York with his Momofuku empire.  Kim has been honing his recipes and adding his own Korean spin.  Like Chang, who began in a gritty part of the Lower East Side, Kim opted to open his "baby" as he called it, on a similarly desolate stretch of North California Avenue, in what might graciously be called Avondale, although local real estate agents might stretch it and say Far North Logan Square.  Granted, there are no pork buns here (one of Chang's signature dishes) but rather, plenty of pork belly.  If Kim isn't already a poster boy for the Pork Board, they should sign him up.  There's belly and pineapple in one of his fried rices; luscious slabs gently splayed across the top of a bowl of ramen that would make the characters in "Tampopo" swoon with pleasure.  In fact, there isn't much on this limited menu that didn't sound downright delicious. There are just five dumplings, and I could have ordered them all - chicken & mushroom, lamb & brandy, Asian squash, duck and pho spices, pork & cilantro - I opted for the last one, which turned out to be beautiful little pockets of dimpled wonton wrapper filled with juicy bits of pork and bright cilantro.  Four rices grace the menu, and while the pork belly and pineapple has wonderful balance, I really dug the organic pea shoots with Thai basil - every mouthful yielded bits of rice, herbaceous basil and barely-cooked shoots - yum.  A side of seasonal kimchi featured napa cabbage with a chili sauce worthy of the finest kalbi joints on Lawrence Avenue.

Then there are the noodles.  Belly offers a half dozen, and we tried half of them.  The udon not only stands up to most Japanese restaurants, but it could be argued it also exceeds them: hidden within the tangle of perfectly-cooked, al dente noodles are plump shrimp, Vietnamese coriander and fish cakes; the sweet chili lime broth is infused with shards of boniato (dried, shaved tuna) and nori that melt into the soup.  The house ramen contains the aforementioned thick slices of pork belly, but also earthy shiitakes and nori, all swimming in an anise/clove/cinnamon scented pho broth.  This is the kind of soup that marries the best of Vietnam (broth) and Japan (ingredients).  Finally, my Asian egg noodle bowl arrived with huge hunks of medium-firm tofu, stir-fried with bok choy and bite-sized chunks of Japanese eggplant.  The noodles rest beneath these ingredients, in the form of a stir-fried circular "cake" that is cut into quarters.  When your chopsticks dig into it, the noodles release into a delicious mouthful.  A spicy garlic chili sauce allegedly graces this dish - I found it a little tame - but a dash of togarashi (chili powder) on the table helped give it added punch.

Ordering is simple.  Just walk up to the counter, peruse the brief menu, place your order, pay and sit down at one of the four communal wooden tables that look like they've just been harvested from the forest and sanded down.  As soon as the food is ready, servers whisk it out to your table, where you'll have a hard time deciding what to try first.  Be sure you bring friends who don't mind sharing, and be sure to bring your own; there's no liquor license in sight.  

August 18

Best Pancake in Chicago

I tend to shy away from making proclamations about the "best" this or that on local menus.  I mean, c'mon, how the hell do I know what the best version of something is?  I certainly have my opinions, and I tend to defend them based on an accumulated taste memory bank, but I always get annoyed when I read someone say they had the "best tiramisu" or the "best pizza" of his/her life, when they've only dined in one city - Chicago - and can't even base this claim on having had the real thing in Italy.  That said, I must say I had one of the best pancakes I've ever had yesterday at Hot Chocolate.  Mindy Segal is a pastry chef, and her Bucktown restaurant is known for its wonderful selection of sweet treats - even on the brunch menu - where there are gooey, sticky, fruity snacks to munch on while you wait.  I always love her riffs on milkshakes and smoothies too.  But yesterday, we tried the buttermilk pancake with seasonal fruit.  Where most pancakes arrive leaden, with too much flour, or just overcooked, Mindy's single pancake arrives like a giant, satisfying disc of sweet and savory goodness.  A good quarter-inch high, this buttermilk beauty is not only embedded with local blueberries, but also topped with more berries, as well as pitch-perfect ripe peaches.  A dollop of cinnamon-laced butter graces the top, but it's not even necessary.  With a tiny drizzle of the accompanying maple syrup, this is the kind of pancake that puts all other imitators in Chicago to shame.  It redefines the genre, and is, as one friend would call it, a "category killer."  Bravo, Mindy. You've forever changed my opinion of what a pancake can, and should be.

August 18

iCream, Green City Market and Mrs. Brady

I stopped in the new iCream (1537 N. Milwaukee Ave., 773-342-2834) in Wicker Park on Friday, their first day.  Oddly enough, I read about their opening on the Blue Line, on my way home from work, where they had already posted a strategic ad.  The concept sounds simple enough: pick a base (plain or organic milk, yogurt) then a flavor and then, if you would like, a mix-in; you can even add food coloring to sass it up.  Then, the iCream scientists will pour your selected milk or yogurt into a stand mixer, and add liquid nitrogen, super-cooling the mixture in minutes, turning it into - voila - ice cream (or frozen yogurt).  With all three mixers running, it looks a little like Wylie Dufresne's or Homaro Cantu's after-hours party.  They also sell hot pudding and a nice-looking line of shakes.  Some of the flavors for ice cream and yogurt were tempting: pistachio, cookies & cream, peach, etc.  The only problem is, on their first day, they had a Nitrogen tank go down, and were busy trying to keep up with business.  I waited 25 minutes, then asked for a refund, as I could tell it would be quite a while before I got my order.  No worries, I'll go back, since I live in the neighborhood.

My son, Max, and I were guests at the Green City Market this past Saturday, doing a cooking class for the Sprouts program, turning little kids onto the pleasures of working with whatever we find at the market.  I was especially proud to be there, as the morning was simply glorious, with throngs of visitors scouting all of the tempting booths.  It was bittersweet, however, in the wake of the passing of the market's founder, Abby Mandel.  Everyone wore small green ribbons in her memory, and even though I had a chance to talk with her a few weeks ago at the market's 10 year anniversary, I know she would have had a great big smile on her face, looking around the market and seeing all of the families there.  We first stopped at Bennison's Bakery, to pick up a giant, crusty ciabatta loaf; then we stopped by Tomato Mountain Farm of Brooklyn, WI, for their fantastic strawberry preserves; Brunkow dairy from Wisconsin gave us some aged cheddar, and we picked up a few peaches from the folks at Hillside in Berrien Springs, MI.  The Chicago Honey Co-Op also gave us some fresh honey, made from bees on the city's West Side.  

We brought along our panini press and blender, so Max decided it was going to be paninis and smoothies.  We split the ciabatta, spread it with some preserves and layered slices of aged cheddar over it.  Brushing it with olive oil, Max and I placed it into the press.  Meanwhile, Max peeled the beautifully ripe peaches, tossed them into the blender with ice, a tablespooon of honey and a little apple cider, and poof, instant smoothie.  The kids who attended all got to try some of the panini, and they all nodded in agreement along with Max, that it was "awesome."  Many thanks to my boy for doing such a great job as sous chef.

I know this has absolutely nothing to do with food, since Alice had to do all of the cooking at the Brady household, but I have to say it was such a giddy pleasure to meet Mrs. Brady (aka Florence Henderson) at the studio on Friday, just before she shuffled off to sing the National Anthem at the Air & Water Show.  I didn't get a chance to ask her about Greg's secret crush on her, or if Marsha was a diva in real life, but it didn't matter.  I got to connect with one of my childhood memories, and I must say, she looked amazing for her age.  By the way, I think she dug my mojo - note the placement of her left hand! 

August 14

West Side Soul/BBQ Followed By Cajun/Creole

It was a typical day for me: cram as many visits to as many restaurants as possible, all before I had to get back to the office.  I had read a wonderful little story about P & P BBQ Soul Food in The Reader, and I was dying to try it.  Located in a gritty stretch of West Division (a good three or four miles West of the hipper-than-thou corrider near Damen), P & P certainly stands out.  For one thing, it's bright; it's also clean - from floor tiles to the fast food-style booths - and the servers, while a little huffy, seemed eager to please.  The menu changes almost daily, and while there is no official menu, they list the day's specials up on a board.  Unlike every other soul food restaurant in the city, the restaurant is punctuated with a giant aquarium-style smoker, directly in the middle of the place.  I ordered the giant spare ribs, which were unfortunately smothered in a sweet barbeque sauce (always order it on the side, especially in South and West Side BBQ joints).  I didn't have as much of a problem with the sauce as I did with the ribs: overcooked, slightly stringy and barely a trace of a good pink smoke ring.  The same was true of the jerk chicken.  While I loved the two incendiary jerk sauces that came with it, the bird was sadly overcooked to the point of lacking in any residual juice. My mother would have loved it.  Yams and corn were just o.k.  The former lacked the sweetness inherent in other joints, while the latter tasted like it came right out of the can.  As for my soul barometer - peach cobbler - they offered to microwave it for me, and then set before me a soggy, sweetened mess.

On my way back downtown, I popped into Yats, an Indianapolis-based budget cajun/creole joint in West Town.  Again, the menu changes daily (they post it online) and you choose from about a half dozen items.  You order at the front counter, and about three minutes later, they're calling your name to come pick it up.  I liked the fact you could order "half and half" of anything except gumbo (which, by the way, was pretty decent, chock-a-block with sausage and pulled chicken).  I opted for two half and half platters: a 50-50 split of red beans and sausage with a maque choux (corn and veg, pictured left), plus, a split of creole chicken and chili cheese etouffee.  All entrees are served over mounds of white rice.  The red beans had a subtle seasoning to them, but the sausage couldn't have been andouille, it was just too bland.  Maque choux had great texture, as did the chicken creole.  I really liked the chunks of stewed tomatoes and the pulled chicken; the etouffee was certainly thick, jammed with small crawfish, but like the other dishes, seemed thickened more by cornstarch than by filé powder or a true roux.  But here's the kicker: for $6.50, it's hard to find fault with one of the best bargains in the city.

August 12

Bacon & Eggs...The Delicious Way

I've always been a big fan of pork.  I know a lot of people say that these days, but few of them grew up in a kosher home in St. Cloud, MN and were deprived of swine as children, like I was.  It seems like everyone is clamoring for pork belly these days, which is really just a fancy way of saying bacon.  Babe's belly, as well as other tasty aspects of his carcass, is showing up nearly as often as farm fresh eggs; not the industrial-raised, crammed-together chickens who must produce perfectly uniform eggs, mind you - but free range birds that eat natural grass and grains and produce lovely brownish eggs with golden yolks. These two fine friends were linked - in a unique pairing, I might add - earlier this week at Lula Cafe, one of my favorite places to eat in Chicago.  The restaurant is known for using only local, seasonal ingredients (many times organic as well).  On the left side of their menu, they always offer seasonal rotations, a few specials that highlight whatever they're getting at the farmer's markets.  While the description seemed downright humble: "sunny side farm egg and suckling pig with heirloom cherry tomatoes and baby dandelion greens," it was anything but that.  A yolk so bright I nearly needed sunglasses, set upon a firm disc of toasted brioche with pulled shards of tender pig that were nicely crisped up for added texture. Those bright, acidic heirloom tomatoes provided a sharp contrast, while the slightly bitter greens beneath it all gave the dish a subtle buzz that was downright haunting.