In our
last installment, admittedly not labeled as such, the quiet tearoom and tatami mat atmosphere of Do Won was shattered by the
Lost in Translation-like interjection of a big screen TV playing CNN and Judge Judy into the middle of the restaurant. Our next one takes place a few blocks south on Lincoln...
Pueblito Viejo has been there approximately a million years that I've lived here in Chicago, but somehow I never went there, even as I tried all sorts of less imposing and more ephemeral things around it. Something about the exterior look, which suggests the most stereotypical sort of Dos Sombreros de Señor Guacamole Mexican restaurant (though it is, in fact, Colombian). And few others have ever seemed to have tried it either, despite the fact that
G Wiv has hinted once or twice that the outré decor, which involves staff dressed in white like Juan Valdez and plastic leaves and flowers stapled to every imaginable surface, offered cartoonish fakiness of a highly amusing sort. (The plastic alligators in the men's room would have made a nice Guess the Restaurant clue if I'd had my camera with me.)
So I took the kids there recently. As our eyes adjusted to the dark and we began to see stuffed sloths hanging from the fake vines and so on, I was prepared to be charmed... except for one thing. Which I think must be new,* because it would be hard to imagine anyone not commenting upon it, any more than you would mention your new boss and fail to comment upon the fact of a 55-year-old businessman dressed in a girl's prep school uniform.
Pueblito Viejo has the highest concentration of TVs of any restaurant or bar in Chicago. ESPN Zone looks positively
monastic next to it. A TV is secreted among the leaves about every 3 feet around the entire restaurant-- 12 or 15 of them in all-- and then a projection TV casts an image eight feet high on the stage, visible to nearly the entire room. The result is not just a lot of televisions, it's an oppressive, sensory-distortion total video environment. To paraphrase the slogan of one of the cable networks, It's Not TV, It's Deprogramming. It's Michael Caine being broken by the Albanians in
The Ipcress Files.
Except this being a Latino restaurant, the fare is not psychedelic imagery such as Caine's Harry Palmer endured but an endless stream of cheesily produced music videos in which women in string bikinis dance, cavort, grind, and in one case threaten each other mysteriously with chickens (I kid you not). Thankfully my sons are 7 and 4, so they merely occasionally blurted out things like "Ooooh gross, you can see her
butt!" rather than acting like
this. If I had waited another five years to come here the result would have been far more unbearable for the adult in the party.
How was the food? Sad to say, pretty good. Quite decent if slightly overmarinated churrasco, decent sides and chimmichurri and salsa, served on a plank a la El Llano. Service was as it often is in places where the nightlife won't be starting for another 3 hours, which is to say, barely a notch above indifferent. But those televisions! Poking out of the very trees and vines of the rainforest like in some David Cronenberg movie in which the technological and the organic become queasily inseparable. The jungle home theater setup of Conrad's Mistah Kurtz. If there's a more vividly, surreally unbearable atmosphere in a Chicago restaurant than this one, I don't know it.
Pueblito Viejo
5429 N Lincoln Ave Chicago, IL 60625-2222
773-784-9135
* The Reader review mentions that TV blares there but claims only "three" TVs, so obviously the quantity has vastly increased in recent times.
Last edited by
Mike G on March 11th, 2006, 10:27 pm, edited 1 time in total.