The Ultimate Dining Experience

They don't call it a "dining experience" for nothing. The food is a small, albeit significant, element in the grand scheme of restauranting. Hospitality, service, presentation, ambiance- all extremely important ingredients in the recipe for a great restaurant.

The experience, though, is truly what makes dining out in Chicago such an adventure. Forget the food, ignore the wine; this metropolitan hub is buzzing with exciting, unique people that make for great stories. Here's mine:

One Saturday evening, I embarked on a new dining journey to a very posh restaurant in Lincoln Park. Lucky for me, the communal booths afforded me the opportunity to inconspicuously eavesdrop on my fellow diners' conversations (SCORE!). As I happily sipped on my fragrant glass of Malbec, the host seated a party of four at the adjacent (and by adjacent, I mean less than a foot away) table. Though completely engaged in the intriguing conversation of my dinner date (my tremendous BFF), I couldn't help but overhear one woman regaling her friends with stories of her worldly travels and her eating adventures abroad. Naturally, this sparked an interest for the "Girl That Eats".

She spoke of London, where you could walk into any pub and order Fish and Chips that were outta this world. She spoke of Spain, where the cheese was abundant and the flavors were unmatched. And then she spoke of Rick Bayless, my hero, the master of Mexican cuisine in American (Remember, I'm Puerto Rican, so I have a soft spot for Spanish food), the guy who helped to put Chicago's culinary scene on the map, the Chef who can make Tongue Tacos taste fantastic... RICK BAYLESS.

She used a word to describe Rick Bayless's empire of Mexican perfection that I had never heard used before... OVERRATED. I thought I had misunderstood, that my refined eavesdropping skills had failed me. She continued to call "that Top Chef guy's" dishes "typical" and "average at best." At that moment, my vision started to blur and I went temporarily deaf- I couldn't hear over the sound of my own heart pounding. Could this be? Was it possible? Had she ever even eaten at Frontera Grill or Topolobompo? Had I? How could our experiences have been so incredibly different that I acknowledge him with god-like status and she thinks he's overrated?

I then had an epiphany that slowed my heart rate and dried my sweaty palms, one that parted the clouds and let me bask in the sun's warm glow. This woman had NO IDEA WHAT SHE WAS TALKING ABOUT. She was a total fake. She spewed out facts she read on Zagat and Urban Spoon and coined them as her own, but, really, she was a novice in the world of good eats. She was like the impostor girl who gushes over her new "Her-Mees" scarf because she doesn't know that it's pronounced "Air-Mezz" (special thanks to my fashion guru for helping me tackle the phonetical spelling of Hermes), she only knows that people will notice her for having one.

I realized that many people go to "posh" restaurants for the simple pleasure of feeling "posh". While they enjoy the food, it plays a very small role compared to the bragging rights that steal the show. We haven't all set out to be expert critics. Not everyone who dines in Chicago secretly hopes to be the next Gael Greene, A.A. Gill, or Alan Richman. And I am okay with that. Really, I am. It keeps Chicago on the map in the world of great food and brings famous chefs to our city to share their masterpieces with us midwesterners. I'm happy to share my dining space with wanna-be foodies and aspiring critics like myself...as long as they leave my man Rick Bayless out of it!


Author's Footnote: I saw Chef Bayless two short days later. He walked into a hot new restaurant for lunch with his wife, Deann. He caught my attention immediately, not because I noticed his trademark glasses or silver-fox goatee, but because he was wearing a blue striped polo shirt that exposed the better part of his midriff, treasure trail included. When I realized it was him, I died of embarrassment and questioned whether or not he deserved his hero status in my heart. After a pretty lengthy internal debate, I decided that he does, in fact, need to be praised as a Culinary god.... the man rocks a Chile Relleno better than my off-the-boat relatives. I don't care if he walks around this city in a speedo, as long as he keeps serving us his Oaxacan Mole, Cochinita Pibil and Tres Leches cake, he has my respect.

Eat.Drink.Repeat- Perennial

Perennial has been on the top of my restaurant "to do" list since it opened last year. The youngest sister to the BOKA and Landmark Grill trio of restaurants, Perennial offers Contemporary American cuisine that's a little bit exotic and a whole lotta fun. Kevin Boehm and Rob Katz combined their restaurant genius to provide Chicagoans with the ultimate dining experience.

Perennial (1800 N. Lincoln Ave) is part amazing food with a dash of swanky decor and a pinch of casual elegance that's got everyone talking. Executive Chef Ryan Poli's masterful creations are nothing short of impeccable.

Don't pass on the bread basket to save room for dinner; the pretzel rolls are out of this world. Seriously, how could bread be so damn good? The Sweet Corn soup was creamy, like silk, enjoyable through to the last spoonful. Don't pass up the chicken lollipops, glazed in a soy reduction over a chopped Asian slaw. Sweet, with a little bit of Asian spice, I was 20 seconds from licking the bone dry. The filet was tender and juicy, cooked to perfection served aside a decadent onion marmalade. My favorite part of the entire meal was the gruyere potato cake, a side I could happily eat every day for the rest of my life.

Eat. Drink. Repeat? I think I will.

A "little dream" come true- Piccolo Sogno

This weekend, I had the tremendous pleasure of hosting my awesome, Italian through-and-through best friend in this glorious, food-filled city. Since I can't go more than a few days without indulging in Chicago's culinary offerings, I took the liberty of planning her entire trip around eating. And, since she is a fabulous friend, she willingly entertained my need to nosh over doing super touristy things like visiting the John Hancock and Sears (yes, SEARS) Tower.

Friday night, accompanied by one of my favorite chefs of all time (my mom), we visited the acclaimed Piccolo Sogno (464 N. Halsted). Piccolo's buzzworthy patio has dominated every dining publication since the restaurant opened in July 2008, so when the hostess offered us the opportunity to experience the Tuscan escape first hand, no 60 degree evening could stand in my way. Despite my reading and research, I was hardly prepared for the breathtaking oasis of greenery and soft lighting that awaited us.

Completely distracted by the beautiful ambiance of the patio, it took me a good five minutes to even glance at the menu. Our phenomenal server, Jeff, greeted us and quickly proved that his expertise was enough to guide us through our dining adventure- no map (menu) needed. To start, Jeff recommended the antipasto appetizer, a divine collection of wood grilled vegetables (complimented perfectly by the homemade, aged balsamic vinaigrette), house cured meats, and the best Pecorino Romano cheese this side of the Atlantic. The flavors were impeccably enhanced by a glass of Promis, a Toscana red wine perfect for any hearty Italian meal.

Our appetites whet for more deliciousness, Jeff demanded (seriously, we had no choice) that we sample an appetizer-sized portion of the legendary Ravioli "Piccolo Sogno", an exquisite four cheese ravioli served in a butter Marsala glaze with pine nuts and fresh Parmesan shavings. The pasta was sublime, cooked to a perfect al dente. Normally not a fan of Marsala sauce, I was perplexed by the intensity of Executive Chef Tony Priolo's masterpiece. Honestly, I wanted to get a straw and slurp it off the plate, but decided to save my companions the embarrassment by dipping delicious rosemary foccacia bread in it instead (a practice we refer to as "dinge-ing" in my family).

To cleanse our palettes, we ordered the Insalata di Pesche and the Insalata special for the evening- shaved artichoke over a bed of baby arugula, dressed in a heavenly lemon oil. It's difficult to imagine that a salad could be so damn good, and consequently we spent the rest of the weekend dissecting the flavors in hopes that my Jersey-Italian BFF could recreate this incredible dish at home (we think we have it figured out!).

After having already sampled so many wonderful dishes, we seriously contemplated our ability (and need, really) to eat dinner. Using my perpetual justification that my brother/roommate could enjoy any leftovers, we dove head first into the entree section of the menu, taking Jeff's spot-on recommendation to order appetizer servings of the Pasta and Risotto specials and the dinner portion of the Veal special. And they were exactly that- special. The pasta, infused with truffles, could have been overpowering and potent, but instead was silky and gratifying. Similarly, the veal was juicy and breaded, the large cut served simply without the distractions of a sauce or glaze. After sampling those two dishes, I barely had room to enjoy my perfectly cooked, incredibly rich vegetable Risotto.

Fulfilling my promise to bring leftovers home meant leaving room for dessert, and Jeff (who was really proving to be a wonderful tour guide) brought us a decadent chocolate and hazelnut cake, paired with a sweet Moscato, that we devoured in a few minutes (okay, seconds).

Completely satisfied and up to our eyeballs in Italian goodness, we waddled our way out of the restaurant and I was extremely grateful at my foresight to wear a loose fitting dress and stretchy leggings to dinner. Our evening at Piccolo Sogno embodied the ultimate five-star dining adventure; beautiful ambiance, wonderful service (Kudos again to Jeff, who is seriously an all-star) and ridiculously delicious food.



http://www.piccolosognorestaurant.com/

A Girl That Eats

I love to eat. With Italian and Puerto Rican blood in me, I am genetically predisposed to indulge. Binge. Whatever. In fact, I love to eat so much that I'm willing to ignore my many dietary restrictions (lactose intolerance, for example) for a decadent Creme Brulee or Tres Leches(Seriously? 3 milks? Who do I think I am?).

Living in Chicago affords me the incredible opportunity to experience some of the finest culinary stylings this country has to offer. Scouting Chicago's restaurant scene helps me to survive the brutual winters, unbearable traffic and annoying tourists who attempt to navigate the "grid".

Needless to say, I eat out a LOT. Some time ago, I put together a very extensive list of nearly 100 restaurants- some that I'm eager to try for the first time and some that I'm dying to visit again. From divey to dignified, burger to bouillabaisse (Okay, not really...I'm allergic to fish), this is an chance to explore some of the best (and worst) Chicago's restaurant scene has to offer.

Buon Appetito!