This past weekend, 13 members of The Scene’s editorial and writing staffs spent just over 48 hours in Chicago. The trip was informative, and it was productive. We got to know each other, and we had thought-provoking discussions. Best of all, we ate. Boy did we eat.
Bruce acted as camp director, but it was my responsibility to choose our dinner destinations for Friday and Saturday nights. Choosing two restaurants from among thousands is a daunting task.
So I did what you could do too. I asked friends. I asked restaurateurs. I asked chefs. I checked out the May issue of Chicago magazine featuring (what do you know?) the Windy City’s 21 Best New Restaurants. Given the number of French restaurants in our town (zilch) compared to the number in Chicago (dozens), I knew we’d do French on Friday. For Saturday night, I opted for Italian.
The Sunday New York Times had already recommended Brasserie Jo as one of the five places where Democratic conventioneers should try to eat while they’re in Chicago next week, so I knew I had to move fast. Given the size of our party, we were happy to take a 9:30 p.m. reservation. The 10 of us arrived on time and still had to wait more than a half-hour. But we didn’t mind. We lined up along the gorgeous zinc bar and pretended that we had time-traveled back to Paris in the 1930s. We sampled some of the special martinis—we especially liked the Sassy Jo—and the custom-brewed house Hoop La beer. While we sipped on some of the moderately priced Alsatian wines, we happily whiled away the time admiring the room’s pale yellow walls, tile floors, and lush banquettes. There are plenty of mirrors, so you can spy on any rendezvous, illicit or not.
Brasserie Jo, which was named the best new restaurant of the year by the James Beard Foundation, is the creation of Jean Joho, who is also the chef at the four-star Everest. With a nod to Joho’s native Alsace, the cuisine is hearty. Our experience indicates it’s hard to go wrong. We blissfully shared and sampled our way through virtually the entire menu.
Here were a few of our favorites among the starters: a mound of pink smoked salmon under crispy slivers of fried potato; a nutmeg-perfumed traditional onion tart; plump, velvet-textured mussels in a sweet wine broth; the freshest possible oysters; and a plate of smoky grilled asparagus. Among the entrées, the garlic chicken studded with whole garlic heads brought exultant responses; the coq au vin was classically executed; the roasted sea bass on a bed of white beans was superb; the phyllo shrimp bag in a sweet lobster sauce was exquisite. I was able to snatch only one bite of Henry’s outstanding Choucroute a l’Alsacienne, but I didn’t get a taste of the roasted leg of lamb with ratatouille at the other end of the table. The sorbets (on this evening a lemon and a raspberry) were the perfect finales, but Jim still couldn’t resist the towering profiteroles with gobs of chocolate sauce. We drank three bottles of 1994 Sancerre ($34) and one of 1993 Chateau Haut-Beausejour ($36). There are many less expensive wines on the all-French list, particularly the ones from Alsace. A three-course dinner for 10 with wine, coffees, and even a few brandies came to just $468 before gratuity, less than $50 per person. We considered adopting our server, Amy, who performed her duties with unfailing efficiency and cheerfulness. Linda Walsh is manager at Brasserie Jo; she’ll be on the lookout for Nashville visitors.
Chicago has a large Italian population and a wealth of Italian restaurants—ranging from white-glove-and-tuxedo places to kitchens where you can expect to see Mama in an apron at the stove. We landed somewhere in the middle at Vinci (as in Leonardo), located in the hot Halstead strip.
The smart bar is decorated with a mural of borrowings from Leonardo’s sketchbooks. Our dining room, with its faux terra-cotta decor and its wine-rack-covered walls, was cozy. The crusty Tuscan bread and Parmesan-toasted focaccia arrived in baskets, while our ebullient server Arnulfo Loza enthusiastically described the specials. Vinci is bustling and noisy, but all the activity merely enhances the air of good cheer and anticipation. Again, with 12 of us dining, we were able to try almost everything. At Arnulfo’s suggestion, we sampled a tray of bruschetta—tomato and basil, spinach and Gorgonzola, and duck liver paté. Each was memorable, but the tomato and basil was the real winner. Christine—who spends weeks at a time in Italy—was almost reduced to tears by the exquisite simplicity of chopped ripe tomatoes mixed with basil, a smidge of olive oil, and some finely chopped red onion, all piled on the toasted slices of bread. Among the antipasti, I would also recommend the grilled eggplant with goat cheese and tomato sauce, crispy grilled baby octopus with soft cannellini beans and roasted peppers, steamed mussels in a dreamy saffron-tomato-white wine broth, and a terrific square of grilled polenta surrounded by portobello and cremini mushrooms in a pool of hearty porcini mushroom broth. We had the 37,119th serving of polenta—a little card on our table told us so. Every 1,000th order is rewarded with a free dinner. Every 10,000th polenta wins two tickets to Italy. I’d order it even without those incentives. Christine tried the classic Insalata Panzanella—a salad of tomato and balsamico-soaked bread—and gave it her seal of approval.
Every diner in our party championed the virtues of his or her entrée—and who could blame them? The grilled duck breast—moist but not greasy—was exceptional, but then so was the grilled veal chop of Flintstone-like proportions, and so were the fan of rosemary-laden roast pork loin over roasted vegetables and the grilled salmon filet with fresh spinach and plum tomatoes. The fresh pastas were cooked perfectly al dente. Then they were tossed with roasted vegetables (the farfalle); cremini mushrooms, goat cheese, and tomato basil sauce (the penne); shrimp, clams, mussels, calamari, tomato, basil, and white wine (the bucatini); and roasted zucchini, garlic, tomato, and breadcrumbs (the linguini). By far, the highest “mmmmm” factor went to the ravioli—celestial pillows filled with ricotta and spinach.
We pulled the cork on several bottles of 1995 Eno Friulia Pinot Grigio ($28 each) and 1990 Serralunga Fontanafredda Barolo ($38). Most of us opted for a trio of housemade sorbet balls, although everybody still had room to sample the towering tiramisu and the zuccotto.
Our dining experience was hitch-free, due to the pleasant professionalism of Arnulfo, who takes pride in providing impeccable service. If you can, put yourself in Arnie’s hands. Our check for 12, with wine, was just over $500 before gratuity. Vinci also serves lunch and brunch.
If you are still in the mood for fun after dinner, call a cab and motor over to The Green Mill, a legendary jazz bar where Al Capone used to hang out. Open until 4 a.m. on Friday and until 5 on Saturdays—we know this from experience—the Green Mill offers unparalleled opportunities for music-listening and people-watching.
Brasserie Jo is located at 59 W. Hubbard (312-595-0800). Vinci is located at 1732 N. Halsted (312-266-1199). Neither requires jackets, but reservations are recommended. The Green Mill is located at 4802 N. Broadway—that’s the corner of Lawrence and Broadway (312-878-5552).
