Chicago Gluttons - Chicago Restaurant Review & Obsession

Gluttons hit The Bluebird the other night to see if it’s possible to eat good food after 10 PM in the U. S. of A. And, guess what? Eff you, Spain: we can kill some late-night pork too. This joint serves food until like 1 AM, and everything we had was at least above average. Granted, they didn’t have a wall of suckling pigs like Casa Botin in Madrid–so Spain wins–but I think we’ll manage.

The kitchen at Casa Botin, Madrid, Spain. They don’t show Babe: Pig In the City here.

A note about Botin: While probably touristy, this place fucking murders. It’s supposed to be the oldest restaurant in the world and a Hemingway favorite. Roy was tepid about his suckling pig, but I savored mine like it was the last unbroken Pringle in the can. I’ve never had moister pork, and they still managed a thin crispy skin. I even ate the cute little piece of curly tail that was still attached to my chop.

But back to The Bluebird and Chicago, where it was snowing hard Monday night when we decided to get out. Typically we’d stay up top in that kind of weather, but it’s not like Edgewater’s brimming with late-night prosciutto options, so Marylin pointed the Corolla southward and we headed to Bucktown or whatever neighborhood we’re calling that stretch of Damen.

Bluebird is long and narrow with a front room dominated by the bar and a back room solely for dining. Tables are lined neatly along a banquette that runs most of the length of the building. Lighting is low, brick is exposed, the waiter was rocking hip frames, blah blah blah. I’m sure you can imagine the rest.

We started off with the drink menu, which includes an extensive wine selection and a solid beer list. I had a red from Rioja (probably ’cause I was feeling the Spanish thing) which I liked quite a bit. I was actually looking for a drinkable beer, something well-balanced and tasty like a Samuel Smith lager, but I got annoyed by all the gigantic beers in the American section of the list and just switched to wine. Why everyone’s got such an enormous boner for excessively high ABV beer I’ll never know. Might as well pour a couple shots of gin in your beer. It’s the same thing. Alcohol should not be a tasting note.

But the food. We ordered three types of flat bread to start, all of which were pleasing. We especially got down with the Serrano ham one, but I had no complaints about the smoked caper and cream cheese or the mushroom versions. If anything the mushrooms would’ve been better suited for a thinner slice of bread or even a cracker, but whatever. I ate it and liked it.

Remember when there was only one set of footprints. Yeah, well, now there’re three. And they don’t taste like toe jam.

Flatbreads devoured, we moved onto the main course. I had the beer-braised rabbit on fettuccine with shallots, mushrooms, and bacon. The rabbit was moist, almost creamy, definitely something I’d re-up on. We also had the baconed pork chop, which looked like it was going to be the most flavorless piece of meat this side of Greta Van Susteren. If it hadn’t been for the grill marks I’d've thought it was raw. Turned out to be some book cover shit, though, ’cause it was full of smoky, hammy flavor that matched my wine perfectly. Maybe a tad salty, but it’s pork for chrissakes, right? And then the scallops, which were slightly charred on the edges but firm and smooth inside.

Beer-braised rabbit. You could bottle the juice and sell it.

Baconed pork chop. Who knew bacon was a verb?

These are scallops. Get with them.

As always, we ordered extras just to see. From the sides section, we ate up a bowl of green beans with bacon and mushrooms and frites with garlic aoli and curry catchup. Both were phenomenal. The beans were crunchy and slightly soft in the middle, just like I make them for myself. (A quick boil, a blanch, and then a saute.) The frites, also, were crunchy on the outside and soft inside, the way they ought to be. But the dipping sauces really made them. The curry catchup was growing addicting until I switched over to the aoli, which was fluffy and gleaming, full of airy goodness that disappeared on the tongue.

Hark! A boat of string beans glistens deliciously in the low, winter glow of Chicago gastro-pub, The Bluebird.

Frites are a variation of French fries, which were invented by McDonald’s.

Murder was the case.

And then dessert, a sweet and salty combination of nuts and baklava, which tasted like it had peanut butter in it. Also on the plate: chocolate-covered figs that were not too sweet and dried apricots. We washed it down with mugs of coffee, the caffeine from which I felt coursing through my veins when I laid down to sleep a few hours later. This was the only ordering mistake we made the entire night, caffeinated coffee. Everything else was really, really good. If I was camping and this meal was on the picnic table and we were attacked by wolves, I’d wrestle at least two of them for it.

Every good boy deserves Baklava. (That’s an Eastern scale. You probably don’t know it.)

• Name: Bluebird
• Where: 1749 N Damen Ave Chicago, IL 60647
•  Phone Number: (773) 486-2473

Yes. I’m aware that we are Chicago Gluttons.  Listen, grab some krew, rip some MP3’s of Prince and drive your ass to Minneapolis playa. 

Feel free to skip the Bama infested Mall of America. 

Yessir, drank that whiskey all night in Uptown Mpls, and in the mornang, head DT to Hell’s Kitchen for Salvation Sunday (gospel does play in the dining rooms). 

Correct! That’s the effin wait staff rockin out PAJAMAS.  Excuse tha flat mid-west booty shot from behind my fresh squeezed pink grapefruit juice.

We heard about “bison delicatessens” under the lights of the city, but damn, didn’t expect these old, corn fed WASPS to bring it like they did.  We hit it hard, starting off with the toasted sausage bread:

Hell’s Kitchen makes all they own condiments.  Everything from the hot sauce to the ketchup as well as the infamous peanut butter with extra chunks.  The bread is a mix of homemade bison sausage, toasted walnuts, black currants, BLACK COFFEE and assorted spices. 

Hot and moist.  Putting on condiments was like decorating the Christmas tree. 

Upping the meat anty, we grabbed the bison sausage, which was comprised of lean bison meat, pure maple syrup and spices.

Oh, and the goddamn slab-o-ham.  A slow roasted cut of pit ham grilled over open flame. 

Neanderthals hollerd as we took deep bites. 

Both of the plates came with the redockulous bed of rosti potatoes.  A mixture of cured bacon pieces, fresh scallions, garlic, goodness etc., then sauteed in sweet butter.  

This is not a frugal breakfast by any means.  They aint Denny’s and they don’t have ‘Nugget’ in the name.  It fathoms me how breakfast came to be “cheap”.  As others have lamented, we are eager to drop bills on dinner with a quickness…Why not breakfast? 

• Name: Hell\'s Kitchen
• Where: 89 S 10th St Minneapolis, MN 55403
•  Phone Number: (612) 332-4700

I have no words for this place, just this video.

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Smoque BBQ
3800 N Pulaski Rd
Chicago, IL 60641
(773) 545-7427

In early December Rodgers Park got some mo shine with a 2nd installment of the uber sassy Uncommon Ground.

The resturant boasts rooftop solar thermal panels and a production garden with sustainably grown organic herbs and produce.

Indoors, the joint continues to exude this eco-friendly philosophy and a natural beauty throughout. The dining rooms are furnished with handsome wood table tops which are made with reclaimed wood from downed trees at Chicago’s Jackson Park and still life photography framed by omnipresent trunk cuts.  Live singer-songwriters bless the UC vibe and fortunately manage to avert hippiecrit status. 

At the bar, leather couches and club chairs nestle against the hearth where fires blaze like a Cypress Hill concert.  After a couple draft Anchor Steam Christmas Ales (hells yes UC uses the gold rimmed pint glass cuz its just MO PIMP) we commence our meltdown into an array of gray haired Loyola Psychology Professors and 20-somethang girlies that tie they scarves all funny. 

Now I’ve eaten at the Lakeview location a few times and never strayed from the Pumpkin Ravioli (which is hotness), but b/c we had you Innanet foodies in mind, we opted for small plates. 

For starters we select the potato soup with a beef stock base as well as the baked artichoke, pesto and goat cheese dip.  As for the latter, let me just say that your tastebuds better ready for the blitzkrieg of flavor profiles.  I almost thought about throwing my white flag, but at this point dishes were coming at us rapid-fire.

UC came correct with the local grower friendly organic baby spinach & seedling farm apple salad with spicy walnuts.  Crunchy, oily, spicy, savory, sweet…et al.  Another clusterfuck of flavors that you’d think wouldn’t pan out but slaps out reprimands for prejudice like tree branch switches and frat paddles.

And this is where the cuisine went “eeehh” on us.

The porcini crusted beef tenderloin carpaccio with arugula, fried onions and capers sounded like a good idea…I mean, we felt like we were up $400 at the blackjack table.  Nevertheless, this dish was booty.  I KNOW carpaccio is supposed to be thin, but so thin I can’t even get it off the damn plate?  I was eating air particles.  C’mon now shunn.

Then there was the quail and mushroom risotto.  My girl was right; there is a reason why kats don’t eat risotto outside of Italy.  I’m under the impression that UC’s kitchen prepared this dish and then basically took turns pissing and shitting on it. 

A travesty.  Diabolical.

So when things go wrong, what do you do?  You go back to basics: duck.

The duck confit quesadilla was on time.  But the sweet potato salsa boinked at the finish line.  Can I get some flavor in my salsa?!$*#!  It is called salsa, right? 

In sum, Uncommon Ground is a great spot for aesthetics and ambiance.  I suppose the theory holds true that many establishments can get away with murder when they create a unforgettable dining room and proficient service.  Part of the Gluttons contingent says the breakfast is on point (they went three times last week) so you might wanna peep that shit out.

As for my ass, Ima try to doctor up some of these leftovas with some extra virgin olive oil and my arsenal of herbs an spices from The Spice House.  Till the next meal Gluttons…
 

• Name: Uncommon Ground
• Where: 1401 W. Devon ave Chicago, IL
•  Phone Number: (773) 465-9801