You can take the girl out of the taqueria (Quince)

This weekend, the 'spouse and I suddenly found we had ourselves to ourselves for all of Saturday evening, the rarest of all occurrences in the world of parenting. We decided we would celebrate with, of course, food - non-Sparky friendly food. Food that required grownup attire; so, I got myself dolled up (though I couldn't help thinking of that infamous comment by our fearless leader,) and off we went to Quince at the Homestead, to try what we hoped was Evanston's finest dining experience.

And a very nice experience it was, I suppose. However, all the while we were eating, I kept wistfully thinking of other places where I could have gone - sans lipstick. For instance, for an appetizer, the 'spouse ordered suckling pig with pickled watermelon rind, BBQ strawberry caramel, spring radish-fennel “slaw.” We recieved a plate remeniscent of of Point and Line to Plane, comprised of a big rectangular plane of slow-cooked, shredded, compressed, crisped pork, a large point of "slaw," and a line of strawberry puree dotted with strawberries. The first bite had me thinking "where did I have this, and what is it missing?" and then, suddenly, I realized: it's carnitas. Without lime, onion, and cilantro, though the unnecessarily bequoted "slaw" was helpful if insufficient in that regard. I found myself wistfully thinking of what could be had for $1.95 on Clark street. I had an asparagus soup with morel garnish that arrived as a nearly empty bowl with a little pile of (poached? rehydrated?) morels which then were doused with shocking green soup poured from a teapot. The morels were nearly flavorless, and the soup seemed to be pureed asparagus and very little else, my first thought was "baby food," but it grew on me as I made my way through the bowl. Still, it didn't justify the uncomfortable shoes.

When my Guinea Hen arrived, nicely de-boned into three diagonally placed rounds with accompanying half-baby-fingerling along a line comprised of sauce and ramps, I couldn't help but wistfully think of tearing (RIP) Cafe Suron's excellent quail off the bone with my fingers in my own kitchen wearing comfortable pajamas. (This dish, a nice little ballotine of hen with crispy skin tasting of lard, contained the one real misstep of the evening: the accompanying crawfish tails were just plain nasty. I made the 'spouse eat one just to be sure - fishy, stringy and tough. Fortunately, they were only a garnish and I pushed them to the side.) Jason's Flat Iron with spring radish, fennel, lime, Jonah crab, chimichurri, three slices of rare steak over a little pile of crabmeat also served on the diagonal, just made me want to ditch the high heels and run, barefoot, up the street to Wiener and Still Champion for Gus's flavorful flatiron steak sandwich with its complex chunky sauce - all the oomph had been finessed right out of this finely pureed chimichurri, and the plating made me feel as though our grandmother had stopped in to the kitchen to make sure our meat was cut up for us. We did enjoy the dessert cheese selections, happily winding up with four choices instead of three due to a minor mishap corrected in our favor: a rich blue cheese accompanied with candied olives, Humboldt Fog with candied pistachios, a composite cheese that reminded me of a pecorino with almonds and maybe honey, and an aged Parmegiano Reggiano with a balsamic reduction and a pickled strawberry. The meal was interspersed with nearly invisible waiters filling our water glasses, replacing our silverware, whisking away plates with the greatest grace - which probably makes the average person feel comforted and taken care of, but it just makes me feel like a rube who can't keep the table clean and keeps dropping her fork on the floor. I left the meal with thinking that the very reasons other folks pay the upcharge in fine dining are the things I least enjoy at a restaurant.

After we escaped into the night, Jason leaned over and whispered "next time, let's go back to Mado." I agreed wholeheartedly - I prefer to eat off a pig than feel like one.

Quince at the Homestead
1625 Hinman Ave
(between Church St & Davis St)
Evanston, IL 60201

(847) 570-8400
http://www.quincerestaurant.net

Mhays wrote:However, all the while we were eating, I kept wistfully thinking of other places where I could have gone - sans lipstick.

M,

While I don't typically wear lipstick I know exactly what you mean. Though not today, three people $21 pre tip at Sun Wah filling, friendly and delicious.

Enjoy,
Gary

I do a fair amount of fine-dining and I occasionally feel the same way about it -- that I wish I'd gone somewhere less formal. But my most recent meal at Quince was far from one of those cases. I really enjoyed that meal, and was impressed by chef Balodimas' abilities.

To Gary's point (which I can certainly appreciate), the fact that Sun Wah is eternally a great value, doesn't at all negate the worth of fine-dining for me personally. Yes, I love Sun Wah but there's so much more to enjoy out there in our town -- embodying pretty much every price point and culinary aesthetic.

=R=

Mhays wrote:Food that required grownup attire; so, I got myself dolled up (though I couldn't help thinking of that infamous comment by our fearless leader,) and off we went to Quince at the Homestead, to try what we hoped was Evanston's finest dining experience.

Michele, my first thought upon reading your review was, "She really needs to get more comfortable dress-up clothes!" I'm sure this has been discussed elsewhere on LTH (though I'm blanking now on a good example for a link), but I think your post gets at something that I don't think is raised enough in amateur, i.e. non-professional, reviews. So much of one's impression of a restaurant is tied to how comfortable one is in the space of the restaurant, with any kind of procedure or ceremony that's part of the meal (ordering, plating, filling of glasses, placement and changing of silverware, re-folding of napkins, etc.), with the type of cuisine, with expectations about dress or other appearance.

I'm perfectly comfortable and sometimes really look forward to getting dolled up (maybe it's because I don't wear lipstick ). However, I'm just as grateful for those fine dining experiences as I am for the restaurants with very satisfying food who'll take me with helmet hair and bike shorts and maybe a little dirt and bike grease on me here and there (like LTH on Mother's Day). I wish this meant that I was comfortable eating anywhere. Unfortunately, that isn't the case. I have my own issues with being acutely aware of dining establishments where I'm the only obviously non-white person besides maybe the cooks. Other factors go into whether I feel this sensitivity or not, but I've tended to feel it less so in fine dining establishments than some of the very popular dessert-y type brunch places in the city. So, I would just rather eat breakfast (don't even like the word "brunch") at home in my pajamas.

This is all to say, as we know very, very well on this board, there's a lot more than food that goes into one's valuation of a restaurant. My conclusion from reading your post isn't, "Michele just doesn't like fine dining" (though that might be the case). I know you're thoughtful about food, and it sounds like the meal actually didn't satisfy you (a happy stomach, of course, is what's most important). I feel like I'm just beginning to accept that some people will just never be comfortable with and, consequently, never enjoy certain restaurants and certain kinds of restaurants. I can go on and on to close friends about how Alinea is one of the most comfortable, welcoming and illuminating spaces in which I've ever dined, and some of those friends will forever think of that restaurant as a pretentious waste of money. I guess I'll just save up what those friends would pay for a few years of brunches. And, when it's time, I'll put on my high heels and head somewhere with food that really interests me and that might change my silverware a few times because they would anyway but also because I am a rube.

Of course, I read your post carefully before we went, Ronnie - as I'm well aware that half the battle is ordering to a restaurant's strengths and I usually try to use you as a guide: I wasn't up for a tasting menu, and I wonder if we'd have fared better had we gone that route. While I generally don't like getting dolled up, I'm aware that it's sometimes the price you pay for a good meal - so, yes, the food we had wasn't up to my admittedly inflated high-heels-and-lipstick standard. I am not sure what food would be up to it, but on occasion, I'm willing to paint up the 'ol snout and seek it out. (FWIW - Opentable defines Quince's dress code as casual; I suppose we could have gone in jeans. I now wonder if I would have enjoyed it more had we done so.)

I'm definitely someone who enjoys going out to "fancy" restaurants, but doesn't like getting dressed up. Generally when I'm going out somewhere nice, I call the restaurant and ask what the dress code is before I go (and sometimes I dress a half step or so down from there.) I'm usually one of the least well-dressed people there, but I'm fine with that because I'm more comfortable when I'm less dressed up. My wife, on the other hand, really likes having an excuse to dress up and is generally at least a step or two more dressed up than I am when we go out. It's taken us a few years to get comfortable with the idea of not both dressing up to the same level when we're going out somewhere nice, but now that we have, we both enjoy ourselves more.

Mhays wrote:Of course, I read your post carefully before we went, Ronnie - as I'm well aware that half the battle is ordering to a restaurant's strengths and I usually try to use you as a guide: I wasn't up for a tasting menu, and I wonder if we'd have fared better had we gone that route. While I generally don't like getting dolled up, I'm aware that it's sometimes the price you pay for a good meal - so, yes, the food we had wasn't up to my admittedly inflated high-heels-and-lipstick standard. I am not sure what food would be up to it, but on occasion, I'm willing to paint up the 'ol snout and seek it out. (FWIW - Opentable defines Quince's dress code as casual; I suppose we could have gone in jeans. I now wonder if I would have enjoyed it more had we done so.)

Well, we asked chef to "lay it on us" and I think that's the best way to go, no matter what price level the restaurant but I don't think you should discount your experience or attribute it to the upscale nature of the place. If you didn't love it, it doesn't necessarily mean you don't love the genre. It very well may have been the specifics that you didn't care for it. A great dining experience penetrates those barriers like a hot knife through butter. My first experience at Le Francais in 1996 lives on as one of my greatest meals ever, not only because the food was amazing but also because the service was remarkably friendly, easily overshadowing the formalness of the place (as happy_stomach posted above, Alinea is the same way). When it speaks to you, you know it and you don't have to stop to think about it.

=R=

ronnie_suburban wrote:To Gary's point (which I can certainly appreciate), the fact that Sun Wah is eternally a great value, doesn't at all negate the worth of fine-dining for me personally. Yes, I love Sun Wah but there's so much more to enjoy out there in our town -- embodying pretty much every price point and culinary aesthetic.

R,

Mine was less a comment on fine dining, which I enjoy, more of a comment on being in a restaurant, at any price point, and wishing I was somewhere else. For example, a Thai restaurant that is all about sticky sweet pad thai, crab rangoon, no fish sauce and lemon no lemongrass makes me wish I was at Spoon or TAC.

If we are only talking about fine dining the last time I took it up the ___ was at SONA in Los Angeles 5 or 6 years ago. They treated us like cartoon characters, made $150 worth of mistakes on the bill, then double charged my credit card* and started breaking down the restaurant while there we, and two other tables, were still eating.

Enjoy,
Gary

*Charges dropped off in a few days, not an attempt at fraud, just ineptitude