I got fired today. And right now…this moment…it’s ok.
I’m in that short window of time before the reality of the situation sets in. Before I have to tell my fiancée that the wedding is going to be in the backyard. Before the next mortgage payment wipes out my checking account. Before I have to ask my stepdad for money.
Also I’m trying to keep this whole involuntary layoff business from my fiancée for the moment. I’m acting casual as we head down Milwaukee to North Avenue for drinks and a bite. She is oblivious, smiling, and talking nonstop. Her lips move like hummingbird wings. The conversation turns to dinner.
“I want to go somewhere fun though.” She says as she paws through a rack of laughably bright, overpriced clothes at a “vintage” clothing shop.
“No shit.” I reply in my near-perfect Bill Cosby impersonation, overcompensating to cover my true mood.
“Can we go somewhere we can sit outside?”
Who is this woman? She knows I hate everything about eating outside. Those crappy al fresco pens. Half-assed intrusions to the public way. Dirty. Windy. Uncomfortable porch furniture. Flip-flop wearing assholes picking their toes as if removing grout. It’s for tourists and I’m in no mood for that shit. I’m about to trump everything with my employment status, but instead I say:
“It sucks eating outside. Plus it’s hot tonight, baby, can’t we just pick up some tacos, go home and do it in the shower?”
Her chin lowers, she stares at me over her glasses.
My annoyance matures into panic. What to do…what to do. I’ll put my foot down. I’ll just tell her “no”, provoke an argument and we’ll get back on the bus. We’ll eat Cheerios for dinner again. Then, like a bolt of chocolate and vanilla swirled lighting, it hits me:
Chaise. It’s an exquisite moment of clarity…calm. I feel as if Morgan Freeman has just started narrating my life. At the risk of speaking in platitudes, I feel like the king of Bucktown. Are we in Bucktown? I step back on the curb. Yes, we’re in Bucktown.
A few steps and we arrive. The décor is stylish, approaching elegant, but with a decidedly casual feel. Plenty of room in the interior dining area, and there is an upstairs that I’ve never been to, but we're here to sit outside. The exterior seating area is intentional, spacious and comfortable. Perfect to pop in for a drink/bite without it being a big production. It’s just what I need to get my mind off today.
We get a table and I order a beer. The waiter is visibly impressed with my Cosby impression, which has influenced everything from the way I saunter about to the way I contort my face as I read the menu. My lady is poring over the drink list. She wants a gin martini, but there isn’t one on the menu. I tell her that many drinks are not on drink menus. They got gin. Just
order it. The waiter suggests a Manhattan, as the maraschino cherries are made in house, and quite delicious. She orders it, and as our waiter departs, she asks me how a Manhattan tastes.
“It tastes like whiskey.” I reply, louder than intended. I’m in Early Stand-Up Era Cosby now…dragging out the syllables, long pauses.
“I like whiskey, what else is in it?” She replies in a respectful yet defiant manner, reminding me of a young Phylicia Rashad, or perhaps the mom on Fresh Prince.
“Nothing of significance.” I jazz bop back to her. “It’s going to taste like whiskey…” my Cosby suddenly and unexpectedly deteriorates into a Mitch Hedburg/Borat fusion. “…with a cherry in it.”
She returns to the menu and mutters something about couples counseling, but I’m distracted by a ragged hipster couple and their funny pants. The waiter returns, we start with some small plates.
Olive Plate: 
A handful of almond stuffed Spanish queens lording over some smaller darker colored ones. Also the olives were delicious. Consult your local olivemonger for more information.
Scallops: 
Now we’re talking. The Hackeysack of the Sea. Neptune’s Cupcakes. The ol’ Sea Tomato. Nature’s McMuffin. I mean look at these. I’ve been craving these since I had the oversalted mouse testicles they call scallops at Azucar. These are huge, lightly seasoned, cooked perfectly and so tender…you could cut them with a fork. Served with a fresh corn and greens combo that I’d buy by the pound if I could.
Fried Green Tomatoes: 
Not what I was expecting. Completely coated in a light batter, topped with clumps goat cheese, served on a smear of tomato puree. Those pink cubes are watermelon, which I initially mistook for fresh red tomatoes.
Oh…we liked these.

We continue drinking and talking, I’ve had three beers and ¾ of a Manhattan, so I’m feeling pretty full…maybe we can get out of here for less than $40. She has other ideas.
Fish Tacos: 
A tender piece of white fish in a crisp taco shell. I wish I could be more specific, but I don’t remember anything other than they went very fast. There were 2 tacos and I could eat 30. Served with slaw and what they called chipotle salsa, but I don’t recall any peppers. Not very spicy, it was more like a smokey, tomato-heavy pico.
Wagu(?) Beef: 
A special I believe. Served a medium rare, with squash blossoms (!), drops of mango nectar, and a Wall Street sized coke-line of mixed chili powder. The beef was flavorful, but I’m not a huge fan of red meat, and it was cooked a little rare for me. The accoutrement, however, was incredible. The chili powder hits you high in the mouth, almost in your nose. An earthy, sweaty heat, like licking cayenne pepper from the shallow valley between Salma Hayek’s shoulder blades. Mango nectar provided a unique sweetness for balance and relief. A piece of beef dipped in both made my eyelids flutter.
Dessert:
Carrot Cake: 
Served on a smear of fresh carrot puree, this adds a “real” carrot taste to carrot cake, which typically is overwhelmed by the cinnamon/nutmeg/whatever you put in a carrot cake. Topped with cream cheese, rum soaked raisins and pistachios. The raisins were a bit strong tasting…distracting even…until I found the right balance between cake, raisin, icing and pistachio. Even after all that food, we devoured this dessert.
One more martini for me, a glass of red for the lady, and we were back on the street, happy, full and ready for bed. Let this day end on a high note, for tomorrow is another day and it’s going to suck.
Without further gilding of this lily, allow me to conclude. I’ve only been here a handful of times, but Chaise is getting to be one of my “go to” places in Chicago. I recommend it without hesitation to friends and family and they have always thanked me afterward. I give it my highest possible recommendation: Two Giant Crabs