No “mixologist”. No Facebook page. No chalk board or Tweetering. No pig ears, poutine, or press ass-kissing. The owners of LM seemed to have missed the memo about how to open a restaurant in 2009/2010, and I’m glad they did. What they’ve done instead, relatively quietly, is start serving some of the best French food in town, in a modern, comfortable space with fantastic hosts.
Stephan, one half of the husband-wife team that owns LM, greeted us with a warm smile when we entered, and showed us to a comfortable table for 2 in the corner. I was taken in right away by a certain casual elegance about the space. The fancy white linen tablecloths might have given off a stuffy restaurant feel, but a touch of whimsy in the form of bright orange linens balanced it out. French tunes played at an ideal volume, absorbed by the cushioned walls that fill the dining room at LM. It wouldn’t be right to call the atmosphere serene or elegant. Neither fun nor quirky would be right either. But if you could mix serene, elegant, fun and quirky into one word, that would describe it.
The food at LM is what I’d call modern French, with perfectly-executed, classic preparations that have been simultaneously lightened and intensified by frequent use of herb purees and reductions. Pureed parsnip soup had the luxuriously smooth texture and incredibly buttery croutons that one would expect from a top French kitchen. Bright chive puree and briny caviar added wonderful, balancing flavor and beautiful color. Crab bisque was relatively thin in texture and intensely crab-flavored, with a drizzle of lemon oil that exemplified the kitchen’s propensity to use lots of acid. I’d love another bowl of that bisque today.
I suspect something may have gone wrong initially in the preparation of our entrees, because we seemed to be waiting quite awhile after the soups were cleared. Our luck, as Stephan decided to bring over a split order of the beef bourguignon on the house, perhaps to compensate for the unexpected wait. What a fantastic version of this classic! Impossibly rich beef cheeks had been browned well to intensify the flavor, and had the kind of beefy intensity that seems to linger on your tongue forever. With a glass of the good pinot noir I was drinking, this was quite an intermezzo.
It was easy for us to tell when the entrees did finally leave the kitchen, as the smell of black truffles filled the dining room. From an execution standpoint, I can’t say that LM’s risotto was without flaws. The rice was slightly overcooked and still soaking in broth that hadn’t been fully absorbed. The flavors, however, were terrific. Generous truffle shavings, soft celery root and perfectly roasted chestnuts combined into a warming winter plate of food, with added brightness from an intensely green parsley puree at the bottom of the dish.
Our second entrée was seared whitefish with snail ragout, and it was wonderful. The whitefish skin was brown and crisp, and the snails were tender and flavorful. A rich, very French potato puree and smooth, powerful garlic-parsley aioli finished the dish, along with some garlic-parsley bread crumbs for more flavor and texture contrast.
We passed on the signature tarte tatin for dessert, and opted instead for LM’s crème brulee. Served still warm from a fresh torching, with oozing custard underneath the burnt-sugar shell, this crème brulee has few equals in the Chicago area.
Can restaurants succeed these days simply because they serve great food in welcoming environments with fantastic service? Or do they need to get PR firms and the Hungry Hound to create a frenzy of tweetering that packs the house? Time will tell, but for the sake of people who would like to enjoy LM far into the future, I hope it’s the former.
...defended from strong temptations to social ambition by a still stronger taste for tripe and onions." Screwtape in
The Screwtape Letters by CS Lewis
Fuckerberg on Food