Sushisamba Rio

Having been to Sushisamba in Chicago and Miami, I knew to expect an odd amalgam of overdone maki and Brazilian fare. Of the many small plates I sampled, three stood out. A special appetizer of a large portion of sweet corn tempura was covered in a dusting of fresh white truffles shaved table side by a chef who informed us that the restaurant was one of four in Chicago to procure white truffles this season due to the usually merely sky-high cost being astronomical this year. Of course, the truffles were welcome, as their earthy, cheesy musk and complex flavors were an excellent foil to the chewy, fried disk they sat atop. The two other dishes that proved worth ordering were both grilled meats; a beautifully cooked portion of short ribs and an addicting charred octopus, which didn't need the thick, sweet mayonnaise-based sauce that accompanied the crunchy tendrils. The sushi, like most maki nowadays, was overwhelmed by too many ingredients. Yellowtail and lobster, stuffed into miniature taco shells, was cute but saturated by a sweet peanut sauce rendering the contents barely noticeable. Service was passable, if a bit slow. The large space was about half full of tourists on a Tuesday. Clearly, Sushisamba Rio has staying power in Chicago.

Overused Phrases

Sound and fury, the kids are/aren't all right, I only dabbled in witchcraft in high school.

DMK Burger Bar

DMK Burger bar takes the latter part of it's name seriously. The former, a bit less so. Walking in at 8 on a weeknight, the restaurant is long and narrow, dominated by a large bar along one side, a meandering red banquette on another, and a large, pink piece of wall art taking up yet another. With few tables, most people stood around the bar drinking. The drink menu was pleasantly eclectic, including one cocktail cribbed from NYC hipster locale Death and Co. The beer selection is lengthy as well, a peach fruit beer was fragrant and refreshing. The menu features about eight burgers (refreshingly, no do-it-yourself option to complicate things as is house practice at The Counter). Number four, a burger on a nice, pillowy ciabatta-type, slightly over-floured roll featured a nicely sized burger, cooked medium, with pepper jack cheese, a fried egg, thick slab bacon, and Hatch green chiles. The elements worked well together, though a bit more spice from the chiles would have been welcome. Also, fried eggs do not work on burgers. While the concept is sound, and a soft yolk spread over a patty provides a nice textural contrast and more mouth-feel, the problem is that egg white is tasteless. It seems to lessen the flavor of whatever burger is unfortunate enough to be sitting underneath it. Fries, chosen from a list of four, are nicely offered in single servings or doubles, even a single would have been enough for two. Fries smothered in Merkt's with limp, tiny green onions needed a more crisp onion to stand up to the richness of the cheese. Sweet potato fries were fine, but the accompanying lemon Tabasco aioli lacked any semblance of heat. Overall, DMK is a winner, a great place to drink and, if so inclined, eat.

Israeli Settlements

President Obama is pushing intensely for a settlement moratorium in Israel. This is a good thing; many of these new settlements are focal points for militant Jewish settlers who, with nothing more than some trailers and the odd structure, claim land for Israel. It's counterproductive and it gives all settlers a bad name. Many settlers live in large, established Jewish communities that an eventual two-state solution will be encompassed by the Israeli border line, while a corresponding bit of land from Israel proper today will be ceded to the Palestinians. But these tiny settlements won't go away, indeed they mushroom because there are plenty of hardcore settlers and it always looks awful in the news when the IDF has to forcible drag Jewish civilians from their "homes", so the government reacts or does nothing when instead it could act by establishing policies preventing certain types of settlement which would serve the two-pronged goal of appeasing the United States government and helping to usher in a Palestinian state next to Israel.

Perennial

Another night, another locavore temple. Perennial is so proud of it's location (right across the street from the Green City Market) and the provenance of it's ingredients (mentions of farms are liberally sprinkled throughout the menu, even the mustard seed's origins are revealed). But despite the genealogy, Perennial is a simple restaurant that lives in the now. Decor is current; unfinished woods, simple lines, taupe, a large patio on Lincoln St. The drink menu is the usual mixology concoctions, a dark and stormy was a little overpoweringly gingery. The food mirrors the setting; simple, clean flavors, the sort of thing that always seems to work. And everything did work. I had a tasting menu built around sweet corn. First was a velvety, rich corn soup with a fried ball of peekytoe crab and whipped honey (looks exactly like marshmallow fluff yet tastes of nothing but honey). Then, corn ravioli filled with corn polenta in a corn puree with kernels and bacon atop. This dish was the clear favorite of the chef; though it had the most corn of the dishes on the menu, the textures all worked together beautifully, the light puree, the rich polenta, and the crisp kernels were a fine showcase of what can be done to an ear of corn. Third was a scallop with a corn puree, greens, a bland spoon bread, and the mustard seed. Nothing special, just like it sounds. This dish was definitely a throw-in to get a protein on the tasting menu. Lastly, for dessert, a corn financier with salty sweet corn ice cream on an even saltier blueberry compote. The "financier", instead of being a pound cake, was indistinguishable from corn bread. In addition, it was leaden and flavorless. When I questioned the otherwise impeccable waitstaff about the dish, I was told that the waitress felt the same way. Regardless, the entire tasting menu was a mere $40, an excellent value. We were told that the chef intends to institute a tasting menu for a seasonal ingredient every month or so which absolutely gives me a reason to return.

Chilam Balam

Arriving mere hours after Check, Please! was filmed at Chilam Balam, a BYOB locavore-type Mexican restaurant in Lakeview, I marveled that such an unassuming space had attracted so much attention. It looks as though someone emptied a bodega of its shelves and replaced them with a booth running the length of one wall and no more than 15 tightly packed tables. Add some kitschy south-of-the-border decorations, and the scene is complete. Of course, no one is here for the atmosphere, which is dispensed with as soon as one opens the windscreen door with its thin metal bars, enters, and is essentially sitting at a patron's table. Told the wait would be 45 minutes at least, no more than five minutes after walking to the bar next door, I received a call summoning me back. The morning after, I feel similarly summoned; the food was playful, mostly successful, and entirely delicious. The small menu, presented in a book of fragile paper, is half blank pages, a good metaphor for where the restaurant is going and perhaps what it may become. The menu is about 20 small plates, half rotating specials, and three or so large plates, none of which I sampled, as they seemed uninspired. Of the small plates I tasted; creamy squash blossom soup with goat cheese and fried leeks, slightly fiery guacamole with chips and pickled onions, bone marrow with toast and sweet pickles, chicken flautas with a mess of vegetables, a sliced flank steak in a spicy red sauce with fried onions and tortillas, and scallops in a thick green sauce similar in taste to a mole with corn, mushrooms, wax beans, and roasted tomatoes the size of a dime, the scallops were the clear winner. Perfectly roasted, a sauce I would have taken home by the quart, and tomatoes so sweet the waiter and I both commented on how much they added to the dish. Of the remaining dishes, the soup was delicious, the guacamole was overpriced, the marrow bones held too little marrow, the flautas presented a nice textural contrast between the fried shell, soft chicken and crunchy, creamy vegetable mixture, and the flank steak was unsuccessful, limp, and given flavor only by the peppy red chile sauce. For dessert, a slightly overbearing but addicting dish of cinnammon-sugared empanadas that were stuffed with crunchy peanut butter and accompanied by small dishes containing a not unpleasantly grainy Oaxacan chocolate sauce, and crushed blackberries. The service was friendly as we discussed other restaurants and helpful as the waiter demonstrated his knowledge by properly suggesting how to course our meal. I would absolutely return, but not until the special dishes have rotated.