Some friends and I went to DeLaCosta the other evening, shortly after Phil Vettel in his Santa Claus mode had awarded the restaurant three stars. What ceviche was he snorting! Divide by two and he'll have my vote.
My take is more favorable than Pigmon and Aaron, but the restaurant strives for entertainment, more than cuisine. "Celebrity chef" (once of New York's Patria) Douglas Rodriguez hopes to create a place known more for its scene than for his cooking.
The restaurant, down the block from Fox and Obel's is filled with attractive 20-somethings. The eye-candy is sweeter than dessert. And the restaurant is loud, particularly as it fills up during the evening; the music (a sort of techno-salsa something, if I can judge) increases in volume to insure that conversations are drowned out; no cooing and billing here. So people yell to overwhelm the sound. If I were a few decades less seasoned, I might have been more taken with DeLaCosta.
Yes, the restaurant is stunning, one of the most artfully designed rooms in Chicago. Vettel is not the only one who sees Tim Burton's influence everywhere. And yes there is a gentleman in the men's room who hands out paper towels, hoping for a tip. Servers were pleasant, but not especially knowledgeable. It took several attempts to get a suggestion for an appropriate wine (the wine list has many reasonably priced Spanish and Southern Cone bottles).
The cuisine varies in effectiveness. The restuarant oddly divides the signature ceviche into two categories "authentic" Ecuadorian style and "authentic" Peruvian style. Neither is what one would be served on the Andean coast. And our waiter didn't even attempt to explain why they were so labeled. I found the authentic and fresh Hamachi with Sour Orange Nectar, Aji Amarillo, Elephant Garlic and Thai Basil to be more compelling and flavorful than the authentic Ecuadorean White Shrimp with Avocado, Charred Tomato Sauce, and Corn Nuts. The portions are petite, and I would have welcomed more hamachi. From the tapas menu the Warm Marinated Olives with flavors of orange, lemon, and cinnamon transformed my imagination of how olives might be prepared. These bravespheres might have been the most successful dish of the evening.
As an appetizer, the Rum-Cured Marlin Taco was a pleasurable set of small taro root tacos served with an iceberg lettuce chiffonade and chiles, a little sweet, but evocative of a South American modernism. It was an inspired way to rid one's fridge of iceberg lettuce. Less successful was a too-sweet Shrimp Chicharrones. Many of Rodrieguez's dishes were too sugary, pandering to a clientele that has difficulty distinguishing between dinner and dessert.
Main courses were sturdy, but not transcendent, and each came with the tell-tale smear of sauce that is now required by the modernist chef's union. My crispy cracling pork was a moist pork fillet whose fatty top was deep fried. It was enjoyable and startling, although the plantain or black bean puree didn't add much. By the time that I tasted a friend's "Lamb Two Temperatures," it had become "Lamb One Temperature" (one lamb was warmer, neither was cold as might have been imagined from the label). The braised shank was excellent, the chop good.
Whole roasted fish was roasted, but - surprise! - not whole. The fish was cut into thirds with the head removed. When I enquired about this false advertisement (some people get off on suckomg fish heads!), the server blithely explained that customers didn't want head (he didn't phrase it this way). But why then would they order whole fish? Should menus be a visit to the dishes that the chef once served? At DeLaCosta they are. The headless fish, with maple brown butter and preserved lemon, was tasty, but not stirring.
Vettel is correct that Pastry Chef Ann Giles' Chocolate Cigar is a must-order. Perhaps her trompe l'oeil dessert is too cute by half, but its taste matched its cleverness. With its ashes and a book of chocolate-and-candy matches even Moto's Ben Roche couldn't match the wispy wit of this production. And Giles reminds us that not only can't we eat duck liver, but we can't light up her Cocoa Cohiba.
Other desserts weren't as astonishing. Da Mini Bomb, a chocolate-hazelnut mousse was sweet enough, but not startling. The Lime in the Coconut was suitably tropical with its Coconut Ice Cream, but I found the lime ice milk and toasted coconut foam to add a somewhat sticky texture to a dessert that needed a cleaner mouthfeel.
I was intrigued enough by the cuisine that I regretted that Douglas Rodriguez had not been more ambitious. There were flashes in the menu that his Nuevo Latino cuisine could be life-changing, but DeLaCosta settles for hip winks and hot bodies.
DeLaCosta
465 E. Illinois Street
Chicago (Streeterville)
312-464-1700
www.delacostachicago.com