I'm sincerely hoping that either La Luce was completely off it's game on our most recent visit or that we ate at a completely different restaurant, because Ms. EC and I had one of the most dissatisfying meals we've ever had in an Italian restaurant in Chicago. I have never been particularly enamored by the majority of Italian restaurants in Chicago. (Even my feelings about my favorites tend to fade over time). So, I wanted to like La Luce. I wanted to
love it there. JiLS' loving description of the braciole had me thinking about it all week. I've always loved the location and architecture; The recent discussion drew me in to what I thought was a potential favorite.
We arrived to find the place mostly full, which was nice because I never mind having time for one drink at the bar. The bartender was among the most surly, foul-mouthed, and incompetent bartenders I have ever met (and I've been in my fair share of nasty bars). After a few too many cries of "what's the bleeping hurry?" and "how the bleep do you make that drink?", the hostess had to give her a talking-to. (It is important to note that the bartender was polite to us--but basically unable to make a drink--and directed all of her ire at the waiters for what appeared to be no good reason.)
This experience at the bar threatened to cast a shadow on our meal, but we shook it off in the interest of dining (figuring she was a temp or fill-in), and took our seats.
We shared an appetizer of mussels in marinara. A simple bowl of fresh mussels in red sauce is bliss but I'm always leery of ordering. In "Kitchen Confidential", Tony Bourdain makes the case for never ordering mussels in a restaurant. I have chosen not to take this to such an extreme, but this advice has made me more judicious and inquisitive when ordering. We asked the waiter if they were fresh today and he replied "yes" (they always do), but his answer didn't seem particularly emphatic. Against my instinct we ordered the mussels anyway.
These mussels were not spoiled, dead, rotten, or dangerous in any way. They simply were not fresh; edible, but not fresh. Ms. EC found them less edible than I did, at one point proclaiming that the mussels "taste like a zoo". At this point I should have sent the dish back, but I talked myself out of it. As a result of this appetizer we have developed a new system for ordering mussels which I will share as a post-script.
I ordered the braciole which was as tough as shoe leather and without any flavor at all, filling included. After a few minutes of sawing through the overcooked (and possibly reheated) meat, any filling was obliterated into the way-too-sweet sauce, rendering it completely undetectable. The meatball was the best thing about this dish, but I've had just as good meatballs served on a roll at Tore's (thanks for the tip, stevez).
Ms. EC had the special ravioli which was described to be stuffed with eggplant and dressed in a gorgonzola-cream sauce. She was served a plate of tasteless mush served in a sauce of tasteless mush. This dish would have been indistinguishable from gruel had the filling not been wrapped in pasta dough.
In hindsight, all three of our dishes should have been sent back, but I am very, very gun-shy about this practice. I am also gun-shy about posting a review of such a negative experience, but
like Bacchanalia, my disappointment ran so deep that I could not keep quiet.
I have a lot of respect for the tastes and reviews of JiLS and Mike G (this is what drew me to La Luce, after all), and I sincerely hope that this was an off-night for La Luce. Even so, it will take some serious arm-twisting to make me go back.
Best,
Michael / EC
A post-script on ordering mussels: I always ask if the mussels are fresh and generally make my choice on how emphatically the waiter says "yes", which they always do. This is strictly a matter of instinct, or reading human reaction. Occasionally, my instinct will say "no" but my natural desire is to not show the waiter that I do not trust them, which a "no thanks" would convey. So, after being bitten by not following my instinct, on the drive home from La Luce, Ms. EC and I agreed upon our new method of ordering mussels, now known as "The Luce Method", and goes something like this:
(This method is basically the same as having a code-word or signal for leaving a party).
I ask the waiter, "Are the mussels fresh?". He or she answers "Yes" in a manner that I do not trust. At this point, I turn to Ms. EC and say, "Well, do you feel like mussels tonight?" which she will take as a signal to say "No". This allows me to decline them without casting significant doubt on the trustworthiness of the waiter. Of course, a waiter who is also a good actor can foil this method rather easily, but in those cases I will not be so gun-shy about sending them back.