So today I’m having lunch at
Eve with my loyal, collie-like companion
CG. He told me this was a fancy place and I should consider myself lucky for going. I told him to get off the furniture and go lay down.
CG likes my opinion on food because I have no idea who chefs are, where they used to cook or any of that, so in theory, I can give him an unbiased, honest opinion. He's a food groupie.
As I mentioned,
CG said this was a fancy place. I wouldn’t say fancy, I would say nice. Staff was in all black, and customers were dressed casually, but you know, loop casual. They still looked rich. If you can look rich while wearing a fleece zip up, you’re doing something right. Nice skin and haircuts. Luckily I was coming from my second interview at Chicago Academy of Art & Design and was wearing a tie. As we sat down, we were swarmed by waitstaff, picking up placesettings, pouring water and arranging the table for us. It felt a bit like the Chez Paul scene in Blues Brothers.
The prices were fair, less than I expected with all that ambiance. Most apps were around $10, there was a skirt steak on there for $15, and a $13 Po’Boy, the irony of which I hope is not lost. Also a $22 foie gras burger. Lots of interesting stuff on the menu, but this was lunch and I had to get back to the mailroom in an hour.
Duck Consommé: I’m not sure what Consommé means, but I believe it’s French for soup. A thin, heavily seasoned broth, with duck rilette potstickers, lemongrass essence and green papaya. There was something very spicy in that mix and I think it was the green papaya. In this context green meant “new” or “not ripe” because it wasn’t green. But it did make me cough because it was so strong. Raw onion strong. That could have been the lemongrass, but it seemed to only come from the shoestring like things and
CG said those were papaya. The pot stickers were strong, meaty and seasoned nicely. Better once I cut one open and let the broth soak through.
Lobster Sausage: CG tells me seafood sausage is difficult, so I said why bother. He says that the trick is to not treat it like sausage, and many cooks/chefs do. I asked how are you supposed to treat it but he was on his cell phone again. It tasted like low fat sausage and if I didn’t know it was lobster, I would have never guessed. Maybe I associate lobster with a small pan of butter, but on it’s own, it was bland, a bit dry and the casing was noticeable because the inner meat was so soft. However, and this is a big however, it was served with some bacon (edit: Nueske’s) that made me realize I’ve never had real bacon before in my life. I held each piece of bacon in my mouth like a lifesaver (the candy, not the flotation device) until all the flavor was gone. At times my eyes were closed.
Nearby, an older gentleman dining alone started to make a ruckus. He ordered the chicken, but that wasn’t a chicken sandwich, and he really wanted a chicken sandwich. This was upsetting to him and he was forced to loudly comment on how much he missed the place that used to be in this spot…flapperjacks or flapjaws or something.
I couldn’t hear what the waitress said, but the old man said “If you don’t bring me a white zinfandel, you’ll never see me here again.” The bartender, overhearing this exchange, quickly threw a rag over the white zinfandel and in a few minutes the old man left. It felt like slow motion, partly because every one in the room was staring at him, but also because that “You Had a Bad Day” song from American Idol was on. Our eyes followed him out to the street. He didn’t get his White Zin, but he had his dignity.
Since we’re on the music…the need to change the station, or the pipes or however you get music into a restaurant. It was adult contemporary pop crap that flew in the face of the subtle, tasteful décor. Counting Crows, Rhianna, Coldplay, that American Idol Song…it was like being at Fantastic Sam’s.
CG mentioned that he thought this guy is one of the best in Chicago and I told him that
Seal wasn’t from Chicago, as Kiss from A Rose blared overhead. He clarified that he was talking about the chef. Speaking of chef…
Prawns: Two perfectly entwined prawns plopped on a pumpkin custard type thing. There was far too much custard for just two shrimps, but the leftover made a nice impromptu dessert. Like pumpkin pie, but lighter and not as sweet. There also was a spicy/sweet drizzle of some sort, which had a slight berry taste. A scoop of prawn, custard and drizzle reminded me of what autumn underwater would taste like, but *sigh* there are no seasons underwater.
Mussels: I don’t like mussels, so I’m not qualified to review these. There were a lot of them, and they were served in an ice wine broth with sliced grapes. That was wonderful. Sweet and light. I’m tempted to say crisp, but I say crisp too much. But it was. It was crisp.
Hamachi Tartare: Hamachi is French for tuna. The fish alone had a flawless, clean taste. There was a bit of cilantro, lime and maybe some wasabi? A ribbon of sweet pickled onion that added sweetness and texture.
I love coming to a place on the first day. Everyone is nervous, the staff bump into each other, and aren’t sure where things are. Sometimes they don’t have knives. But to borrow a phrase from my doorman, this place was on point. I guess the only thing that was off was they didn’t have any beer yet, so we had wine, which was probably better considering. Also the receipt said
Tellulah. In conclusion, I don’t know much about food. I don’t pretend to know this guy’s pedigree, I just go where
CG takes me and this place was smooth. I wouldn’t have known it was their first day. The room is small but not cramped, the staff was attentive but not annoying and most of the food exceeded the expectations I didn’t have.
86 out of a possible Kiss From a Rose. I'd pay $25 for parking to eat here again.
Eve
840 N. Wabash
Chicago