Sunday 6 January
We had to check out before noon, which meant we had some time before Barbara had to chair a session at 1:30. Prompted by a helpful concierge, we decided to walk up Magnificent Avenue ("the Michigan Mile") and have lunch at the Grand Lux (sic) Cafe (sic).
As we were nicely dressed (if we do say so ourselves), they seated us on pouffy chairs in the windows of the round room, to gaze at the ceiling murals of Klimtian women (the Grand Lux is decorated as if Vegas did the Wiener Werkstätt). What with all the glitz, we didn't know what to expect of the food, as the concierge had only assured us that it was good and there were plenty of choices. And indeed, the menu went on for pages, with even breakfast things still available, not to mention the affable waiter swishing by with a dozen additional specials.
As we'd had our meat the night before, we went for fish. Barbara chose a seafood salad, which turned out to be an enormous platter of dressed greens with bands of color - white crabmeat and fish salad, yellow corn, orange and red roasted peppers, green beans and avocado - swathed lavishly on top. Holt got two appetizer-sized specials, both of 'ahi tuna: a crispy (fried!) sushi roll, and wonderful slices of seared rare fish, served with cucumber salad, benrinered carrot, and all the other Japanese-style accompaniments. Unexpectedly good, and we've already written the hotel to praise our knowledgeable concierge.
But the topic is dinner, and for that, we went from the grand to the petite; specifically, to La Petite Folie, with our friends John and Peggy. They live in Hyde Park, and this choice restaurant nestles in a strip mall only a few blocks from their house. The owners, also local residents and Chicago alumni, started the place after one of them happened to be first in her grand diplome class at the Cordon Bleu.
The interior acts as an antidote to glitz: two quiet lace-curtained rooms, low lights, pastel walls, white tablecloths, and fine glassware, like good restaurants in France. Prompted by John, whose motto is "no wimpy wines," we immediately got a bottle of Domaine Brusset 2005 Gigondas (Tradition de Grand Montmirail), as well as a glass of 100% pinot noir burgundy he wanted to try. The Gigondas won, hands down.
We started with a typically Alsatian slice of onion quiche, with red cabbage on the side; and a smoked pheasant salad with pear and walnuts among its greenery under a black-currant-walnut vinaigrette. And who knew that sliced smoked pheasant would look and taste so much like ordinary ham?
We then proceeded to the mains. Barbara chose saddle of rabbit, slices filled to bursting with truffled hazelnut mousse; it had a double mustard sauce, and was served with French (but of course) beans, potato purée, mushrooms, and walnuts. Holt couldn't resist the roasted boar chop with truffled port sauce on a bed of acorn squash flan scented with winter spices - i.e., just like a pumpkin pie. Though a mite resistant, it was flavorful meat, and came with braised leeks and apple strewn with jewel-bright pomegranate seeds.
Though tempted by the thought of chocolate bombe, we resisted dessert and walked back to Peggy and John's, where she served her homemade winter fruit compote and ice cream, and he got out a bottle of Rosemount Estate Balmoral Syrah - the unwimpiest of red wines, or what our Aussie friends would call a very decent drop. We licked up everything, and we thank Peggy and John (and La Petite Folie) for a marvelous evening.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Miller's Pub in Chicago
Saturday January 5
Once again we went out with one of our favorite people, Amy. But she was feeling a bit rocky, and wanted something homestyle and soothing. The answer was Miller's Pub, which our friend Jon had recommended for its "fun, comfort food, and good meats," specifically their "world-famous (in Chicago) B.B.Q. Baby Back Ribs."
We started with a soothing Bloody Mary for Amy, a bottle of Querceto Chianti for ourselves (anticipating the aforementioned meat on the horizon), and a platter of buffalo wings for us all. The chicken was nice and spicy, with hefty bowls of ranch and blue cheese dressing for the raw carrots and celery alongside.
On to the meats. Holt had two nice double-rib lamb chops, broiled just right and nibbleable right down to the bone. Barbara wanted prime rib, which the menu offers as "Miller's Pub Cut" (20 oz.), "Diamond Jim Brady Cut" (14 oz.) or "Lillian Russel Cut" (10 oz.). Prompted by the waiter ("it's still a lot of meat"), she decided to be ladylike and take the mere ten ounces. A good thing, as the thick circle of beef took up a whole plate, edging out the bowl of horseradish cream served along with it. This is the sort of place where everything comes with separate servings of other stuff, so our table was crowded with bread, cole slaw, green salad, mashed potatoes, french fried potatoes, steamed carrots we mainly ignored, and of course the blue cheese dressing that Barbara had hoarded to dab on various things (even the steamed carrots) since it arrived with the buffalo wings. None of it would have made you do handsprings, but everything was a solid, well-made version of its own particular kind.
We left feeling much better. Miller's Pub was just what the doctor ordered.
Once again we went out with one of our favorite people, Amy. But she was feeling a bit rocky, and wanted something homestyle and soothing. The answer was Miller's Pub, which our friend Jon had recommended for its "fun, comfort food, and good meats," specifically their "world-famous (in Chicago) B.B.Q. Baby Back Ribs."
We started with a soothing Bloody Mary for Amy, a bottle of Querceto Chianti for ourselves (anticipating the aforementioned meat on the horizon), and a platter of buffalo wings for us all. The chicken was nice and spicy, with hefty bowls of ranch and blue cheese dressing for the raw carrots and celery alongside.
On to the meats. Holt had two nice double-rib lamb chops, broiled just right and nibbleable right down to the bone. Barbara wanted prime rib, which the menu offers as "Miller's Pub Cut" (20 oz.), "Diamond Jim Brady Cut" (14 oz.) or "Lillian Russel Cut" (10 oz.). Prompted by the waiter ("it's still a lot of meat"), she decided to be ladylike and take the mere ten ounces. A good thing, as the thick circle of beef took up a whole plate, edging out the bowl of horseradish cream served along with it. This is the sort of place where everything comes with separate servings of other stuff, so our table was crowded with bread, cole slaw, green salad, mashed potatoes, french fried potatoes, steamed carrots we mainly ignored, and of course the blue cheese dressing that Barbara had hoarded to dab on various things (even the steamed carrots) since it arrived with the buffalo wings. None of it would have made you do handsprings, but everything was a solid, well-made version of its own particular kind.
We left feeling much better. Miller's Pub was just what the doctor ordered.
MK in Chicago
Friday January 4
We had dated up one of our favorite people, Mary V., well in advance, for dinner at another of Holt's finds, MK.
It has a completely different ambience from Vivere - much more trendy and modern, with lots of exposed brick and chrome, especially on the lofty upper story where we were seated. A bit noisy, though I think that's what restaurant owners are after - they think it's "buzz." The menu is neo-cute (featuring "steak" and "another steak"), but the service is swift and friendly, and the emphasis is on local, seasonal food, creatively cooked. Despite the hype, MK achieves its aim.
We startered with roasted Nantucket scallops (not local, but what restaurant is, especially in winter?) on a citrusy foam, or to be precise, "meyer lemon, whipped potato, braised baby leek, crispy garlic, toasted almond, parsley emulsion." But who cares, it was ravishing. We also had grilled baby octopus with baby broccoli, baby leeks, and doubtless other neonates, in a romesco sauce. It didn't make us roll around in ecstasy like the octopus at Fino, but it was excellent nonetheless, especially when accompanied by a Groth sauvignon blanc.
We got some glasses of Syrah, though, when we made the transition to red, red meat. Despite having had it the night before, we went for venison again, this time slices of charcoal-grilled loin with parsnip purée, black trumpet mushrooms, and a whiff of juniper berries (reminding us of Julia, who got the essence of juniper by glugging gin into the pot). The bison ribeye was also grilled and sliced, but this time with "crushed nichols farm new potato" (what happened to "mashed"? And was there only one potato?), "bloomsdale spinach, hen of the woods mushrooms, and cabernet sauce." Both sent us into red-meat heaven.
None of us wanted to leave, so we continued schmoozing over coffee and cognacs. A memorable and entirely enjoyable evening.
We had dated up one of our favorite people, Mary V., well in advance, for dinner at another of Holt's finds, MK.
It has a completely different ambience from Vivere - much more trendy and modern, with lots of exposed brick and chrome, especially on the lofty upper story where we were seated. A bit noisy, though I think that's what restaurant owners are after - they think it's "buzz." The menu is neo-cute (featuring "steak" and "another steak"), but the service is swift and friendly, and the emphasis is on local, seasonal food, creatively cooked. Despite the hype, MK achieves its aim.
We startered with roasted Nantucket scallops (not local, but what restaurant is, especially in winter?) on a citrusy foam, or to be precise, "meyer lemon, whipped potato, braised baby leek, crispy garlic, toasted almond, parsley emulsion." But who cares, it was ravishing. We also had grilled baby octopus with baby broccoli, baby leeks, and doubtless other neonates, in a romesco sauce. It didn't make us roll around in ecstasy like the octopus at Fino, but it was excellent nonetheless, especially when accompanied by a Groth sauvignon blanc.
We got some glasses of Syrah, though, when we made the transition to red, red meat. Despite having had it the night before, we went for venison again, this time slices of charcoal-grilled loin with parsnip purée, black trumpet mushrooms, and a whiff of juniper berries (reminding us of Julia, who got the essence of juniper by glugging gin into the pot). The bison ribeye was also grilled and sliced, but this time with "crushed nichols farm new potato" (what happened to "mashed"? And was there only one potato?), "bloomsdale spinach, hen of the woods mushrooms, and cabernet sauce." Both sent us into red-meat heaven.
None of us wanted to leave, so we continued schmoozing over coffee and cognacs. A memorable and entirely enjoyable evening.
Vivere in Chicago
Thursday January 3
Holt is always assiduous in scoping out the restaurant scene when we go to our professional convention, and he did another great job this time. Chicago, of course, is famed for its range of ethnicities/styles of cooking, but we were limited by the fact that most restaurants take their vacations after New Year's, and lots of them were closed (so much for you, Topolobampo!). Also, we didn't feel like having a waiter hold our heads while squirting air from toasted hay into our nostrils (so there, Alinea!).
Instead we went for the Italian village, and Vivere.
It's a nice paneled and stained-glass room, more Vegas-style glitz than clubby or old Italian. Our server was attentive, and the wine steward knowledgeable, despite wearing a tuxedo-like minidress and looking about twelve years old. The specials sounded so good, we had three of them.
We started with fresh lobster ravioli in butter, along with pancetta-wrapped shrimp. Both were carefully prepared and very tasty, though they wouldn't knock your socks off. The wine, an Antinori Campogrande Orvieto, reminded us of previous romantic visits to Orvieto and the Cantinetta Antinori in Florence.
The mains had more razzmatazz. We had excellent pistachio-crusted grouper in lobster broth, and the red pepper and purple cauliflower alongside were standouts. But even more amazing was the venison osso buco, meltingly tender and full of flavor (and marrow), on a black-truffled and luscious risotto cake. This was the best, most original, treatment of venison we had in Chicago, or maybe ever. Of course, that needed a red wine, so we got a glass of Nebbiolo Barolo 2002, and were delighted.
We'd happily go back to Vivere any time.
Holt is always assiduous in scoping out the restaurant scene when we go to our professional convention, and he did another great job this time. Chicago, of course, is famed for its range of ethnicities/styles of cooking, but we were limited by the fact that most restaurants take their vacations after New Year's, and lots of them were closed (so much for you, Topolobampo!). Also, we didn't feel like having a waiter hold our heads while squirting air from toasted hay into our nostrils (so there, Alinea!).
Instead we went for the Italian village, and Vivere.
It's a nice paneled and stained-glass room, more Vegas-style glitz than clubby or old Italian. Our server was attentive, and the wine steward knowledgeable, despite wearing a tuxedo-like minidress and looking about twelve years old. The specials sounded so good, we had three of them.
We started with fresh lobster ravioli in butter, along with pancetta-wrapped shrimp. Both were carefully prepared and very tasty, though they wouldn't knock your socks off. The wine, an Antinori Campogrande Orvieto, reminded us of previous romantic visits to Orvieto and the Cantinetta Antinori in Florence.
The mains had more razzmatazz. We had excellent pistachio-crusted grouper in lobster broth, and the red pepper and purple cauliflower alongside were standouts. But even more amazing was the venison osso buco, meltingly tender and full of flavor (and marrow), on a black-truffled and luscious risotto cake. This was the best, most original, treatment of venison we had in Chicago, or maybe ever. Of course, that needed a red wine, so we got a glass of Nebbiolo Barolo 2002, and were delighted.
We'd happily go back to Vivere any time.
Black Bean Soup Redux
Wednesday January 2
Did we mention the abundant leftovers of the Christmas ham? We cubed some of it up, put it in a bowl, crumbled in a little leftover cornbread, and poured the leftover black bean soup all over it. Soup is always tastier on the second day, and ham scraps never hurt, especially if you started the soup with a ham bone anyway. The salt helped cut the initial sweetness that was the only thing we didn't like about the dish.
Did we mention the abundant leftovers of the Christmas ham? We cubed some of it up, put it in a bowl, crumbled in a little leftover cornbread, and poured the leftover black bean soup all over it. Soup is always tastier on the second day, and ham scraps never hurt, especially if you started the soup with a ham bone anyway. The salt helped cut the initial sweetness that was the only thing we didn't like about the dish.
Ham and Potato Gratin
Tuesday January 1
Though we wondered whether we could adapt our favorite Turnip Gratin to use potatoes, we decided to be safe and stick to what we usually do.
This time we sliced Yukon Golds paper-thin with the Benriner, and boiled them until tender before layering them alternately with thin-sliced Christmas ham (there's still a ton of it) and grated cheddar cheese in our buttered one-meal-for-two-people pyrex casserole. Then we poured on the cream and mustard, but unfortunately we got overenthusiastic with the latter - Dijon mustard is always stronger than you think it is.
Still, it's basically a good winter dish, and we'll keep tinkering with it.
Though we wondered whether we could adapt our favorite Turnip Gratin to use potatoes, we decided to be safe and stick to what we usually do.
This time we sliced Yukon Golds paper-thin with the Benriner, and boiled them until tender before layering them alternately with thin-sliced Christmas ham (there's still a ton of it) and grated cheddar cheese in our buttered one-meal-for-two-people pyrex casserole. Then we poured on the cream and mustard, but unfortunately we got overenthusiastic with the latter - Dijon mustard is always stronger than you think it is.
Still, it's basically a good winter dish, and we'll keep tinkering with it.
Chicken with Red Wine Auvergnaise
Monday December 31
New Year's Eve is a time for indulgence, but Holt wasn't feeling too well - perhaps Christmas was catching up with him. He didn't need to eat in bianco, but chose chicken with mushrooms for dinner as a nice stomach-soother. Tradition (who knows whose) says you shouldn't eat chicken on New Year's Day, or you'll be scratching for money - luckily, it says nothing about New Year's Eve.
The recipe came from our old standby, the Larousse Book of Country Cooking. It's pretty simple, especially if you choose not to marinate (we couldn't wait the 12 hours). You start with two bone-in chicken breasts, which you pat with a couple of spoonfuls of fresh chopped thyme. You brown these in oil in a large skillet, and set them aside. Then you chop up 1-2 small onions or 3-4 large shallots and brown these in the skillet. Next goes in about a pound of chopped fresh mushrooms, which darken and give off liquid. This is when you sprinkle in some chopped parsley and rosemary, nestle the chicken back in among the vegetables, give it a good glug of red wine, and cover and let it simmer until the chicken is done, 20-30 mins. At that point, put the chicken and vegetables on plates in a warm oven, reduce the sauce in the skillet, and add a dollop of heavy cream to bubble and thicken. Pour that back over everything, and enjoy.
We also had to deal with (usually = ignore) various other New Year's traditions. Barbara's family used to watch the ball drop in Times Square on TV, while eating apple and/or pumpkin pie. For a few years her Mom would dress up her grandson Robert as the New Year Baby, with a diaper and a new-year-numbered sash, and take a picture of him. As you can imagine, that lasted until he learned to talk enough to refuse (he's 32 now).
We did have the traditional Scandihoovian herring snacks (and some black caviar on cream cheese on water crackers), but for appetizers before dinner, not at the stroke of twelve.
Midnight calls for champagne instead, and sweets rather than salty things - in fact, for a little gold treasure-chest of wonderful cocoa-dusted truffles that Holt got in his Christmas stocking (thanks, whoever put it there!). We did watch the ball drop, so New Year's Eve was completely traditional.
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