Chicago Dining - Charlie Trotter's

Charlie Trotter's is the first restaurant anyone thinks of when they think of Chicago dining. Chef Trotter has been at the vanguard of the Chicago food scene since long before he achieved household name status.

That said, many of the food cognoscenti warned me before my recent visit that chef Trotter, "has lost his touch," and worse still, they suggested that the restaurant is, "living on reputation alone." Nevertheless, I had two nights in Chicago and I just couldn't imagine passing through without having a meal at Trotter's any more than I could imagine visiting Rome and not touring St. Peter's.

Our party of six decided to more or less split the menus, with half choosing the Grand Menu and the rest choosing the Vegetable Menu, so as to maximize the tasting opportunities.

Amuse consisted of a more or less bland vegetarian maki on the one menu and tuna sashimi on the other. Both were beautifully presented and fresh, but otherwise uninspiring.

At about this time, one of our party who wasn't drinking asked for a Sprite. The waiter didn't miss a beat, but returned from the wine cellar with a bottle of "Amé," a slightly sparkling spiced fruit drink. As he poured it, he explained, "I think you will find that this goes much better with your meal." A little pretentious (what if she had really wanted a Sprite?), but the Amé was something new and interesting, and he was right - it paired much better than a thick, syrupy Sprite would have. He later swapped out the white Amé for a blush version as we moved into the meat courses (I didn't try either, but everyone else gave it high marks and I am told that Whole Foods carries it).

I should take this moment to mention that from the moment we arrived, the service was impeccable. Dishes arrived and were cleared in unison and servers were very knowledgeable about the ingredients and technique (at one point, someone at our table asked about how they make the "foam" on one of the dishes and the waiter launched into a lengthy explanation of emulsified sauces, proteins, suspended fats and immersion blenders). They also tolerated an endless stream of, "I think I taste X in this dish - am I right?" and dutifully returned from the kitchen with the answer any time that they didn't know it off the top of their head.

First courses consisted of a roasted hearts of palm with organic fennel and sheep's milk ricotta for the vegetable menu and a terrine of skate wing with artichoke, pickled grapefruit and cilantro oil for the grand menu.

The Hearts of palm paired nicely with the fennel, but like many of the vegetable selections, the dish was not terribly visually appealing and was fairly bland (in referring to the vegetable menu afterwards, we describe courses as the yellow course, the green course, the red course, and so on). The terrine was actually skate wing and fresh water eel, which offered an interesting juxtaposition of textures and married well with both the cilantro oil and oddly enough, the grapefruit.

Second courses consisted of a wild asparagus soufflé with fava beans and summer truffles on the one hand and Japanese hamachi with Indian pickle, Thai eggplant and lemongrass curry emulsion on the other.

The asparagus soufflé was the zenith of the vegetable menu. It was at once light and fluffy, full of concentrated asparagus flavor and finished with a bit of pistachio for texture (and to maintain the overall "shades of green" appearance of the dish). Paired with the truffles, it was earthy and rich and a completely pleasant surprise.

Similarly, the hamachi was a delightful combination of flavors. The fish itself was a bit over-cooked, but the combination of lemongrass curry emulsion (thick, rich) with the pickles (tart, refreshing) was outstanding. This was one of the best flavor pairings of the evening.

Third courses consisted of vegetable cannelloni with farro, kohlrabi and red wine emulsion (the "red course" for those on the vegetable menu) and Berkshire pork with braised salsify and chanterelle mushrooms.

The cannelloni weren't pasta at all. Instead, the chef used thinly sliced root vegetables (think of running a carrot lengthwise down a mandoline). He then wrapped these around a mixture of farro and kohlrabi and served them in a bath of red wine emulsion.

I know that farro is very "in" right now - it is hard to find (snob appeal), harder still to prepare (kitchen purist appeal) and it was supposedly used to feed the Roman legions (Classics department appeal?), but why serve it here? I mean really, take a step back - Trotter actually served a grain stuffed inside a vegetable as the pasta course.

Todd English is really quite good at this whole deconstructionist method of cooking, but for Trotter it simply did not work at all. The root veggies were not tender enough to easily manipulate with a fork, so that as you cut into them, they sprung open and expelled their stuffing. The sauce, however, was delightful. Next time, they should try serving the farro and root veggies (diced) in the same sauce for a sort of haute minestrone.

The Berkshire pork, on the other hand, was probably the best course of the evening. It consisted of pork tenderloin rubbed with cardamom, pork stuffed tortellini and a bit of braised pork belly. All three were excellent and I very much enjoy this sort of "Iron Chef" presentation - the same base ingredient prepared multiple ways.

The tenderloin was the most tender and flavorful I have ever had (later in the evening, in the kitchen, one of the line cooks confessed that the piglet had been alive not 18 hours prior, so that explains that), with the spice rub drawing out the flavors as opposed to competing with them. The tortellini were stuffed with ground pork - maybe a little confit - and were served naked. Finally, the braised pork belly was a rich and concentrated, melt-in-your-mouth, ooze resting atop a stack of salsify. Yum.

The fourth course was taro root cake with black trumpet mushrooms, braised Italian kale and orange lentil puree (which I later dubbed the, "black course") on the vegetable side and grilled Texas Wagyu beef with lobster mushrooms and red pepper/black cardamom puree for the rest of us.

The taro root cake was served at the extreme left of a large platter, with mushrooms and kale strewn about and a mysterious black orb off to the far right. As each diner poked at the object with their forks, they began to speculate wildly at what it could possibly be. It yielded a bright yellow gooey substance and tasted like someone had rolled an egg yolk in dirt (credit my wife with the description).

We asked the waitress what on Earth it was and she cheerily replied, "that is our six hour poached egg, rolled in dehydrated mushrooms.”

I will pause to let that sink in.

Like Yorick breaking the tension between murders in Hamlet, the egg - which was bizarre both in preparation and in presentation - reduced our table to giggles for the rest of the evening. As my wife said, "this must be what they meant when we heard that Trotter will do weird things, just for the sake of being weird." We never completely recovered from this incident.

The Wagyu beef was cooked to perfection, but like many high-end steer, it was more texture than flavor - if that makes any sense (i.e. unlike the truly sublime Mishima beef, the Wagyu lacked the fat required for real flavor). Nevertheless, it was excellent with the mushrooms and red pepper puree.

Our party had nearly recovered from the poached egg incident, when the sorbet course arrived. It consisted of rhubarb sorbet with sweet fennel, gooseberries and chervil for the vegetable menu and cantaloupe sorbet with yuzu and upland cress on the other. I actually thought that both were brilliant, but most of our table took the presence of fennel and chervil in their rhubarb sorbet and bacon and yuzu in their cantaloupe sorbet to be a continuation of the, "weird for the sake of being weird," theme.

The sweetness of the rhubarb sorbet played off the tartness of the gooseberries and the anise notes of the fennel cleared off the palate as well as providing a bit of crunch to the mouth-feel. The cantaloupe sorbet paired with bits of bacon was like a sweet, liquid concentrate version of jamon y melon and the upland cress and yuzu combined to close the dish nicely as a palate cleanser.

Dessert marked the first service gaff of the evening. We were supposed to be served raw Tahitian vanilla bean ice cream with red and black raspberries on the vegetable menu and New Zealand passion fruit with crystallized carrot and buffalo yogurt/white pepper sorbet on the other. Instead, all six of us received the same dessert, with the passion fruit and buffalo yogurt / white pepper sorbet on the left side and a layered "chocolate crepe" cake and lemongrass sorbet on the right.

The chocolate crepe was amazingly rich and, though we were initially skeptical, proved to be an out-of-this-World pairing with the lemongrass sorbet. The passion fruit bit was like a light, sweet pound cake covered in a passion fruit syrup that paired nicely with the buffalo yogurt / white pepper sorbet (the uber-sweetness of the syrup and cake was mellowed out by the heavy, dull, spice of the sorbet).

Then, there was the crystallized carrot.

Like the misplaced poached egg before it, the presence of a baby carrot alongside the passion fruit dessert (not incorporated in it, mind you) was too odd to be taken seriously. The table again erupted into uncontrollable laughter.

At this time, the wait staff realized the dessert gaff and promptly brought out three of the raw Tahitian vanilla bean ice cream with red and black raspberries dishes that were originally supposed to come with the vegetable menu. Extra dessert? No complaints here.

Full from the three hours of eating, capped by multiple desserts, we recovered again from our bouts of laughter long enough to order coffee and begin perusing the selection of mignardises. Each person at our table received a miniature bento box containing four mignardises. As each of us began to sample, they were met with choruses of "ooohs," "ahhhhs," and "what the hell is this?!?!"

The most obvious selection was the Hershey's kiss covered in gold flakes and served atop a sweet, lavender perfumed cookie. The lavender and chocolate paired nicely, but was overshadowed by the remaining three selections.

My wife had the misfortune of biting into what looked like a red cookie topped with jelly. Instead, she found a sweet red pepper salsa with rosemary topping. Huh?

Then, several of us tried the other cookie that appeared to be topped with strawberry preserves. It turned out to be strawberry and rhubarb compote - and would have been very nice - were it not for the presence of a caramelized onion underneath it. This was so surreal, that it took the six of us alternately sampling and discussing to arrive at the conclusion that there was, indeed, an onion there.

At this point, the rest of the table dismissed the remaining mignardises.

I alone forged on through the last offering and came away determining that it was a cookie topped with pineapple and baby basil. They were fun together, but not exactly the flavors I would choose to end the meal with.

Everyone else at the table was too afraid to try it at this point, reeling from the combination of poached egg, fennel in the sorbet, baby carrot in the passion fruit and onion in the strawberry rhubarb.

Overall, the meal was at times brilliant, at times just fair and at times, truly bizarre.

Sorry Charlie - you're living on reputation alone.

Chicago Dining - Pompei

This come-as-you-are group of casual Italian eateries in Chicago offers quality, authentic favorites at prices that won't break the bank.

The menu is standard Italian fare, consisting of pizza, salads, pastas, Italian sandwiches and pizza strudel (like calzone, but without that "chile relleno effect" - where the entire thing explodes melted cheese onto your plate at the first pass of the knife). Everything is made fresh on the premises, and if you don't believe it, just past the cash register there is a booth where you can watch them roll out sheets of pasta and cut fresh ravioli.

We ordered just shy of "one of everything" - Pizza Pompei, Pizza chicken Luigi, a side order of meatballs, gnocchi, ravioli in a smoked tomato cream sauce, ravioli with lemon and roasted peppers, chopped chicken salad, chicken parmigiana stuffed pizza, stuffed pizza pompei italiano, tiramisu, cheesecake, chocolate cake and bread pudding. There wasn't a dud in the bunch.

The pastas were clearly fresh and a little al dente (the way they are supposed to be - as opposed to the over-cooked arts and crafts paste that many places serve). From the spicy marinara on the gnocchi to the hearty meat sauce on the meatballs to the balanced smoked tomato cream sauce, each sauce was as unique as it was well prepared.

My favorites were the ravioli and the pizza Pompei. The ravioli are served in a pink smoked tomato and cream sauce that is both sweet and spicy and had people at our table lapping it up with a spoon long after the last ravioli had been eaten. The pizza Pompei is an unusual creation consisting of a thin crust pizza topped with a mixture of chopped tomatoes, bread crumbs, olives and Parmesan cheese, which has the mouth-feel of a thick crust pizza, without the ball of lead in your stomach feeling.

The desserts were all solid as well, but the standouts were the tiramisu and the bread pudding. The tiramisu managed to get my Father-in-law's approval - no small feat considering the man interrogates any waiter who tries to peddle tiramisu with an "is it fresh?" line of questioning. The bread pudding is, quite simply, to die for. Not since the food tents at Jazz Fest (you know - the white chocolate bread pudding next to the Cafe du Monde stand) have I had such good bread pudding. It arrives topped with cinnamon and sugar and with a side of caramel sauce and whipped cream and leaves you feeling warm all over, the way a good bread pudding should.

Whether you eat-in, take out, or have them cater your next corporate function, check out Pompei for a taste of things the way "Mama" used to make them.

Chicago Dining - The Signature Room

I recently wrapped up a weekend visit to Chicago with Sunday brunch at The Signature Room - located on the 95th floor of the John Hancock building.

This is a no frills, stick to the basics spread of food that is at best, average. We have all seen this layout hundreds of times - pastries and "bagels" followed by breakfast potatoes, sausage, bacon and eggs benedict in chaffing dishes, followed by (turn the corner) an omelet station and a raw bar (oysters, Alaskan crab claws, mussels and shrimp cocktail) followed by poached and smoked salmon (two different dishes). The other side of the room features a carving station (ham and sirloin) followed by a dessert station and then (down the ramp) a row of food leftover from the previous night's dinner service (lobster bisque, chicken Parmesan, steamed asparagus, rice pilaf, etc. - you get the idea) and finally, an un-inventive selection of fruits (the holy trinity of Board meeting breakfasts: sliced honeydew, cantaloupe and pineapple) and cheeses (mostly sliced cheddar, jack, mass produced blue, etc. - we're talking cheeses that arrive in plastic shrink wrap, not rolled in ash or grape leaves).

How on Earth did I select this as the keystone to cap off an otherwise amazing weekend of eating in Chicago? Two words: the view.

The Signature Room gets away with serving this college cafeteria quality brunch because the setting is completely breath-taking. From the 95th floor of the John Hancock building, you have a panoramic view of all of Chicago. On more than one occasion, people at our table set down their forks to go stare out the windows and take it all in.

And perhaps I am being unfairly harsh - it could have been worse (and I did manage to choke down everything on my plate - on all three passes of the buffet). For example, the eggs on the benedict were soft (a rarity in operations like this) and several of our party bravely partook in the raw oysters with no signs of food poisoning.

All-in, it is probably worth a trip. Even at nearly $60 per person, it is worth putting up with the lovely crowds that all-you-can-eat buffets tend to draw (yes sir, you did step on my wife's foot just before you elbowed me in the ribs in a dive to grab another fist-full of shrimp cocktail) in order to take in the scenery - or you can buy a ticket to the observatory and do your eating elsewhere.

2 Amys (DC - Cleveland Park)

Since moving to DC, I had heard the buzz about this being, "the best pizza in DC," but having moved here from Manhattan, where great pizza can be had on most street corners for $2.50 a slice, I somehow never managed to make 2 Amys a priority.

I finally broke down last night and stopped by for some take out pizza on my way home. As I had been warned, it looked like the opening night of a big movie - cars double parked out front, crowds lining the sidewalk - everything but a red carpet. Just 15 minutes after placing my order, I was on my way with a D.O.C. Margherita pizza and a somewhat lesser-born daily special comprised of chanterelle mushrooms, toasted pine nuts, tomato paste and grana (as in grana padano, the cheese).

[N.B. 2 Amys has gone through the trouble of being certified by the Verace Pizza Napoletana, which alone can declare whether or not a Neapolitan pizza is denominazione di orgine controllata (or D.O.C.). As such, they offer both D.O.C. and non-conforming pizzas.]

I know better than to get into an argument here about deep dish versus thin crust versus Sicilian, versus brick oven, versus New York style pizza - everyone has their preferences. All I am saying is that for what they are (Neapolitan pizza), the two pies I picked up from 2 Amys were perfect.

The light, chewy crusts stood on their own, rather than just being a conduit for tomato sauce and cheese. With respect to toppings, the Margherita was a classic interpretation with a little bit of tomato sauce, several large medallions of mozzarella and wilted basil leaves - a very capable standard bearer. The special pizza (chanterelles, tomato paste, pine nuts and grana) was a surprise hit. A wonderful combination of textures and flavors - a melody where the earthy chanterelles played the middle notes to the alto of the grana and the tenor of the pine nuts.

At $26 for two people, this was a bit grander than your average take out pizza night, but then again, last I checked, Domino’s doesn't deliver chanterelles and grana.

Heritage India (DC - DuPont)

I have been enjoying the food at Heritage India's DuPont Circle location ever since it opened. The two-sided menu (labeled "Traditional" and "Contemporary") has always been an interesting gimmick - if for no reason other than the excitement it creates in the dining room when someone inevitably knocks over a water glass while trying to flip over these billboards.

Normally I am a straight-down-the-middle Chicken Chaat, Lamb Vindaloo, Nan and Raita guy. All of which are excellent, by the way. After a few meals at Heritage, I began dipping my toe in the "Contemporary" waters with the highly theatrical "Golgappas" - little pockets of dough (think of papadams in the shape of a tiny bowl) filled with potato and a sweet/hot tamarind-based sauce, each resting on its own spoon. The dish is finished tableside, as your server pours a bowl of "spicy water" into each pocket and encourages you to eat them each "in one bite." The result is a crunch of shell followed by a torrent of spicy water, which subsides to reveal the delicious sweet/hot potato mixture within. But I digress.

Saturday night, we mixed it up a bit and ordered exclusively from the "Contemporary" side of the menu. The result is similar to tapas, though I am loathe to use that term.

[NB: unless you are in a smoky bar, swishing warm Cruzcampo back and forth in your mouth to choke down that bite of hard bread and rotting ham you just took - and wiping the crumbs on the floor - it isn't "tapas," OK? It might be very good, but it is "small plates," "bites," or even "mezze," but not tapas, please.]

We tried Channa, the aforementioned Golgappas, Calamari in a delightful tomato-based sauce, Lentil dumplings, Baba Ganoush (I know - weird, right?), Cauliflower Pakora, Smoked Mozzarella (really), Meat Samosas, Raita and a flurry of breads (including a Parmesan Naan). Everyone took a bite or two, then passed the dish and by the end, we were (rather, I was) lunging across the table to soak up the last bits of sauce with whatever scrap of naan I could find as a conduit.

Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves and it was really a blast to witness people trying such a dizzying array of flavors and textures in such a short period of time. They've got Benetton advertisements beaten by a mile.

Merkado Kitchen (DC - Logan)

Kudos to owner David Winer for luring Chef Edward Kim to DC. I was a big fan of Kim's cooking at Soigne in Baltimore and am happy to be able to sample his food a bit closer to home.

While little of Kim's menu from Soigne has survived the move, the one dish that has - and the one dish that my wife can't imagine living without - is the "Seared White Tuna Sashimi in Miso-Sake Reduction & Truffles." The delicate seared crust on the tuna yields to a melt-in-your-mouth piece of fish that you would swear was swimming while you were waiting at the bar for your table. The Miso-Sake reduction is a sweet/tart accompaniment that is reminiscent of the version that Chef Nobu Matsuhisa uses in his famous Black Cod with Miso. The truffles lie on top of the dish and hang - both in the air and on the palate - like the haze over the Potomac on a summer morning. If Michelin rated individual dishes, this one would garner three stars - well worth a trip.

A similarly stunning dish is the "Raw Ahi Tuna Crudo on Boniato Frita, Wasabi Crema & Caviar." This dish borrows a bit from the classic French steak tartare preparation, with an Asian twist. Raw bits of delightfully fresh, translucent tuna are tossed with (my best guess) capers, scallions, jalapenos, cilantro, sesame oil and a bit of ginger, before being formed into a little tower and topped with a delicate wasabi creme fraiche and a bit of bright red roe. The boniato is less of a bed for the tuna and more of a hedge around it that the uninitiated will mistake for shoestring sweet potatoes. Like the aforementioned Seared White Tuna, this dish is incredibly rich, so plan to share.

While it doesn't quite fit with the refined, exacting attention to detail of the two tuna dishes mentioned above, Kim's nachos are outstanding. I am particularly partial to the Wonton Skins with Sesame Ground Beef, Manchego Cheese and Wasabi Crema. The wontons are an admirable stand-in for the traditional corn tortillas and the marriage of the ethereal spice of the sesame beef to the tartness of the manchego and the hot/cold of the wasabi crema comes close to delivering the "nirvana" promised in the menu.

The remainder of the menu is a kaleidoscope of Latin, Asian and French influences - more often than not competing for attention within the same dish. Some of the early favorites amongst neighboring diners appear to be the nachos, big bowls of noodles, grilled fish entrees and desserts.

All-in, this is a loud, no frills dining room / bar scene that is sure to be a crowd pleaser. Whether you are sampling Kim's finer plates over a nice bottle of wine before heading to a show at the Studio Theater, or downing a plate of nachos with friends over mojitos late at night, Merkado delivers.

Coastal Flats (VA - Fairfax)

I grabbed lunch this afternoon at Coastal Flats (11901 Grand Commons Ave, Fairfax, VA). This massive, several hundred seat, booths only restaurant is very much in the style of Macaroni Grill and the other "big box" dinning halls that punctuate the suburban landscape.

Much to my surprise, the service was attentive and well informed, the menu was creative and the food was very good. I ordered a hickory grilled salmon - rare - which was served over a coarse grain mustard sauce and alongside a bed of light, airy "cauliflower mash." The salmon was exactly as I had ordered it - crispy on the outside and rare (nearly raw) on the inside - and full of hickory smoke flavor. The delicate mustard sauce was a terrific compliment to the salmon - not at all the heavy cream concoctions that many places smother their fish in to mask inferior quality.

At around $15 an entree, I think it is reasonable priced (i.e. not a bargain, but certainly not a splurge either). I also loved the bread. They serve a mix of sour dough, raisin and jalapeno cheese bread alongside some sinful southern "fry bread." Delicious.

Two cautionary notes: 1) it can get very loud in the dining room, so this might not be the ideal place for a quiet business lunch and 2) Coastal flats is very popular, so it may be tough to get a table - the place was packed at 1:00 on the Tuesday after July 4.

China Garden (VA - Arlington)

I stopped into China Garden (1100 Wilson Blvd., Arlington, VA) on Sunday for my bi-weekly Dim Sum fix. As usual, I arrived at 11:30, sharp, only to find that they had opened the doors earlier than the posted time to accommodate two buses of tourists. I approached one of the two unpleasant ladies who guard the seating chart like Scylla and Charybdis, and was promptly rebuked for not having my entire party of six present. So far, so good - just another relaxing Sunday brunch at China Garden.

As the lobby filled up with would-be diners, it eventually took us twenty minutes to get a table. Once seated, we were treated to the gruff indifference from the wait staff that we have come to expect. Tea, water and chopsticks are easy to come by, but everything else is a struggle.

Un-pleasantries aside, as the carts of steamed and fried dumplings and other small bites rode by, we sampled freely. We enjoyed wave after wave of shrimp, pork, vegetarian, shark fin, shrimp and pork and combination dumplings, followed by BBQ beef bao, turnip cakes, fried scallion cakes, taro cakes, fried whole shrimp and shrimp stuffed eggplant. We even managed to coax an order of Chinese broccoli in oyster sauce out of one of the waiters (no small feat considering that on a previous trip, I ordered the same broccoli from four different members of the wait staff and came up empty handed).

At the end of the meal, we gave up looking for the delicious fried sesame balls and almond Jell-O on the passing carts and began the arduous practice of ordering them directly. After several failed attempts, the management realized that we weren't bluffing - and that they were not getting their table back until we got the desserts - and tracked some down for us.

$32 per couple later, we re-emerged fat, happy and triumphant.

It is unfortunate that the best Dim Sum in Washington, DC isn't in the District - it is at China Garden in Arlington, VA. It is equally unfortunate that the seating process lacks the decorum of even a rugby scrum and that the customer service at China Garden is the envy of passport agencies everywhere.

That said, I keep going back for more - and I am not alone - by 12:30, the entire mezzanine lobby looks like a Soviet era bread line. At the end of the day, the food is good enough that it is worth braving the rest of the experience. Besides, you feel a little less gluttonous having had to work a little to earn it.