My better side tells me not to do this, but I'm feverish and was just diagnosed with pneumonia, so I left my better side under the covers and dragged myself to the PC to tap out my experience last night at the newest sign of the apocolypse here in Logan Square, Dunlay's on the Square. This place is so bad in so many ways, and represents such wretchedly poor planning by its owners, it actually makes me sad knowing it is there. As my topic title indicates, my experience of Dunlay's is like that one about the baby seal that walked into a club.
So, anyway, I was sick and stir crazy and had to get out, but Mrs. JiLS argued for something close, and Dunlay's certainly was that. [Edited to protect Mrs. JiLS's reputation -- she just said "close"; I'm the doofus who suggested Dunlay's.] When we walked into the establishment, we were actually impressed by the looks. They've done a good job converting the old Boulevard space to more efficiently serve as a supper club, rather than primarily bar/performance space that Boulevard was. We were promptly and cheerfully greeted and then seated by one of the trio of Trixies who hovered around the hostess stand like anxious honeybees throughout our stay (they just made me nervous, is all I'm saying). I started getting suspicious right about now, because these girls really looked like they had been shanghaied from regular duty in the orginal Lincoln Park location of Dunlay's, including the look, the attitude and the vapidity that seems can only be appreciated after (1) drinking six Guiness and (2) reversing your Michigan cap, bill to the rear. Needless to say, we weren't the typical crowd, and I don't think that crowd has much presence in this neighborhood. Yes, we are gentrifying in Logan Square; no, we aren't ever going to be a neighborhood like LP with the right concentration of 20-something Big Ten frat/sorority types places like Dunlay's appeal to. As a meet market in LP, I bet Dunlay's does well; as a destination spot (the Square isn't exactly thronging with revellers on the sidewalks), well, I guess I can admire their spunk.
I will give the actual food only brief attention, consistent with the methods of Dunlay's kitchen. We started with baked goat cheese in red sauce. This was five slices of Jewel brand goat cheese with Prego ladled over it and heated up, served with rounds of toasted stale bread. It was like the recipe on the side of a Triscuits box. Dunlay's claims everything is from scratch; if that is so, more's the pity, because they could save trouble and maybe serve better appetizers if they just went ahead with some food-service products. Mrs. JiLS had a salad that consisted of good quality greens and dressing, with only two grape tomatoes - and cost over $4.00. I then had the worst pizza I've ever eaten, and that includes delivery at a Walt Disney World hotel and this one punk bar I went to once in Indianapolis. The thin crust was undercooked, doughy and greasy; the sauce was a pesto that (1) also tasted like Jewel brand and (2) was apparently applied by a myopic gorilla. The cheese was as close to Cheez Whiz I've seen on a Pizza product served in a restaurant. Mrs. JiLS's cheeseburger was mealy, tasteless and served with way too much bun. All of course was served with a *smile* by Trixie.
At the end of our meal, the owner (I assume that's who it was, he looked like the boss) came by to ask how we liked it, with a sort of goofy enthusiasm. Regarding that conversation, I will just state for the record that (1) I am a competent lawyer, (2) Mrs. JiLS is an accomplished actor, and (3) we both try to be polite at all times. One remark I recall was that the neighborhood needed a place to have a burger, a beer and "chill." Yeah, dude, whatever. Oh, I also recall later the satisfying and resounding "smack" of the packaged remains of my pizza against the bottom of the dumpster.
Dunlays On The Square
3137 W Logan Blvd
Chicago, IL 60686
773-227-2400
www.dunlaysonthesquare.com