As you cross E 47th on South MLK, the words “food blight” become a stark minimization. Put simply, within this corridor, its Subway or fucking starve. This gastronomic dynamic is enough to force any Chicago Glutton to a river of cries. Alas, in 2010, homie Will Burns, Mr. TIF and The University of Chicago ran that triangle formation. Only the Rumsfeld and Cheney tandem could shift a landscape more quickly.
If you haven’t heard about the Harper Park revitalization project on 53rd, peep development game. Over a four year period, the window of South Blackstone to South Lake Park has garnered more attention than Pharrell’s bullshit ass Smokey Bear hat. This small window has morphed into a culinary social boil ripe to pop. From the hopelessly pitiful PhD candidate of applied sciences to the urban bohemian, there is something for everyone on 53rd: The Promontory, Yusho Hyde Park and yes, A10.
All this shit separated by a couple blocks? This is nothing short of a culinary renaissance.
Subconsciously, consumers are trained to underestimate their southerly soul brother. And little has refuted this presumption until late last year, when A10 subtly rippled the pond.
Long and short, restaurateur Matthias Merges is killing it.
The salads. God damn, the salads. Guru Nanak, get on these plates, player. The escarole salad and fregola sarda got MVP (Most Valuable Platters) for the night. Both were extremely well balanced, clean, with layers of nuance and texture that set a proper tone. And lets be honest; these plates are pretty in a “you don’t deserve this shit” kinda way. That’s Amy Adams, not Jennifer Lawrence, son.
Then came the duck special. Rohan; a blend of mallard and peking duck served alongside a duck scotch egg which is soft boiled, then rolled in pork sausage, breaded and then fried. It might not be on when you visit, but its in your best interest to ask for it anyway. This duck fucks; seared perfectly to render in its own fat like a deranged midget emerging from Elvis’ crotch.
Dessert course. Yall know how the game is played in the land of gluttony. No one leaves unsatisfied. The cliché of picking a path to follow at the crossroads? Fuck that. Go sweet AND savory. Get the soft serve with a side of Washington oysters topped with crudo and ramps. Food blight, fade back.
If you’ve learned anything from the last two posts, we’ll travel to the brink of the drink, tirelessly searching for bites that shine. Much like Ramen Misoya, A10 undoubtedly deserves your undivided attention and that gas money. Dine best.