I will never make a bar fly, I'm afraid. High bar stools make my legs go to sleep and I never like to drink without something to eat, too.
Before the smoking ban, I typically preferred waiting for my table in a restaurant's foyer to the smoky confines of the bar. Now that the air has cleared, I'm more amenable to bars, especially if they serve something interesting to nibble on. Salty pretzels aren't going to cut it.
The other night, we had a half hour to kill and wound up in the bar at Bistro 110 (a place that doesn't get as much love here as it deserves). We snagged a couple of stools at the bar. I had a Lillet Blanc on the rocks and noted that several others at the bar were eating cones of frites.
"Hmm, I guess they serve a lot of those here," Himself remarked, and then a coneful appeared in front of us.
It was the complimentary bar snack, hot and crisp and served with a cruet of "ketchup oil" and a shaker of paprika. Perfect.
Bistro 110
312/266-3110
www.bistro110restaurant.com
110 E. Pearson St.
Chicago