I’m now living in Chicago with my family (I’ll be doing some freelance writing for the time being), and getting used to my life as a civilian diner.
The other day we were having dinner at an intriguing restaurant in our Hyde Park neighborhood, and I saw the restaurant’s owner (a well-known Chicago chef) sitting at the corner seat of the counter and putting the kitchen through its paces, testing each of the dishes.
I wanted to tell him that his kitchen executes and plates these Japanese fusion creations perfectly. But that’s not the problem: the food comes out too slowly and at such an uneven pace that someone is always waiting while others are eating. The menu strikes an edgy, interesting tone (ramen with fried pig tails!), but if he toned it down half a notch, more people in this conservative, under-restauranted community might be able to relate to it. The stark decor shows a designer’s eye, but the room feels like a fishbowl and always looks empty.
Instead I just tried to put my reviewer’s mind to rest and just enjoy the food in front of me, which was pretty good.
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