Grace has been on our “must-get-to” list for longer than I’d care to admit. I was late in calling to get a table for the Lovely Dining Companion’s birthday but the gods (and the reservations folks) took pity on me and I was number one on the waiting list. Four days before the date, I got a call: they had a table at 5:30. A trifle early, but who am I to quibble with the gods? We had our table at Grace.
Thanks to the Kennedy we arrived at 5:28, almost exactly on time. We were greeted warmly and brought into a room lit carefully, though subdued. There were, however, lights perfectly positioned above each spot at our booth and perhaps best of all, this is one of those rare places where the tables aren’t crammed together. There was plenty of room between tables and because of that, there is room for everyone to maneuver and you’re not forced to listen to the conversation of people seated two feet (or less) away (I’m looking at you, Next). We found the room refined; it exudes a sense of luxury without being in your face. A warmth came through: exceptionally thoughtful choices were made to create this feeling, from the art to the tables and chairs, from the lighting to the linens and the flatware. Although it’s not what I’d call a warm and cozy place, it is—almost despite itself—comfortable and relaxing. Refined, elegant, tranquil, and yes, graceful.
We’d both concede that it’s ultimately a minor point (if indeed a point at all), but we were impressed that this is a restaurant that took our special occasion seriously. From the reception staff to the server, from the printed menu to the special dessert, Grace and its staff made clear that they didn’t forget and wanted us to enjoy the special day. I mention this, not so much for the fact of it (though it is increasingly rare) but because it illustrates a more fundamental point: Grace is a restaurant whose staff pays attention to everything, even the little things. (Example: though LDC chose the fauna menu, she asked if a substitution might be possible for the lamb course. She’s not allergic; she just doesn’t like it at all. Had it been served—certainly an option well within the kitchen’s rights—she would have just left it. Instead, the kitchen offered to substitute the equivalent course from the flora menu, centered around maitake). The people who make Grace what it is, recognize that a great dinner, a great experience, is more than the sum of its parts. Great food is not enough. Great service is not enough. There are so many things that go into a how an evening is experienced, some—perhaps even many—of them intangible. Our dinner and our evening were exceptional.


Three amuses: yuzu-flavored drink with chia seeds, bitter orange sphere, and Alaskan king crab and butterThree tastes, served simultaneously: sweet, sour, umami. The yuzu was the most interesting to me, the bitter orange explodes in the mouth but is not sweet, as expected, and the king crab and butter, well…what need I say? I can’t really imagine a better single bit and, paired with the little butter bomb, superb. Three different tastes to warm the palate and heighten expectations. They got us talking, which is always a good thing, about what we knew about Grace, what we didn’t know, and what was in store for us.
Chawanmushi, osetra, yuzu, and purple shisoChawanmushi is quintessential Japanese comfort food and, at least in my experience, hard to pull off just right. Texture is an elusive creature—especially the right texture. I’ve had plenty of mediocre chawanmushi, even in Japanese restaurants. In fact, I do have one criticism of Chef Duffy’s: I wish there had been more in the bowl.
Hibiscus cup with autumn vegetables, amaranth, and tarragonThe combination, as would prove true again and again for me, was fascinating. I enjoy the interplay of textures and tastes but I just couldn’t abide the hibiscus cup. I like hibiscus and I am a big fan of sour; I often drink a lot of jamaica in the summer, but this was too sour. It was pure hibiscus and would have benefitted from just a touch of sugar to relieve the constant, strong sour flavor. Hibiscus has a lovely taste and I think could have been the right choice for the cup but its sourness dominated everything and in the end the dish just didn’t work for that reason. Part of me can’t help wondering whether beet wouldn’t have been a better choice….
ButtersSeveral breads were served with these (cow’s milk on the right, multiple herbs on the left). A lavash, a pretzel bread, a small olive roll (I think I’m forgetting one or two others). All were hot—not just warm. And all were quite good. But the butters were the star.
Brandade, charred pineapple, hearts of palm, and chamomileCod and pineapple—charred or otherwise—would not be a combination I would think to make. Which is why Curtis Duffy has two Michelin stars and I have, uh, none. This was a fascinating dish, less distinctively brandade-like than I personally would have preferred, but the emphasis was more on the combinations: flavor, texture, temperature. And for that, it worked wonderfully.
Squab, kaffir lime, green strawberry, and sorrelOnce again, an offbeat pairing. I’m not convinced by the green strawberry (unripe, not a different variety). I understand the point of the acid, but I’m just not sure I buy it. Or, more particularly, I don’t buy that green strawberry was the right choice. Still, an intriguing dish. And perhaps a good place to point out an unusual practice on the menu: the last item in each course is the herb and it’s always capitalized. Why? Because Duffy wants to call attention to the importance the herbs play in his dishes. Good for him—and some of them were really quite unusual (to my semi-educated palate, anyway). (In fact, he did the same thing when he was in charge at Avenues—going through my collection, I noticed the fact.)
Miyazaki beef, chanterelle, watermelon, and mashua leafOne of the best courses of the night. I’ve learned that there are more kinds of beef out there than I know about and I’ve finally decided to stop trying to figure it all out. I just enjoyed the meat—one of the best pieces of meat I’ve ever had, period—Kobe, Wagyu, whatever—this was an extraordinary dish. (When I got home, I was curious: mashua is grown in the Andes and was a traditional food and medicine of the Incas. It’s a highly nutritional tuber and the leaves and flowers have also been eaten for a long time, though I was disappointed to read that it is considered an anti-aphrodisiac; I never knew such things existed .)
Lamb, kale, parsnip, and black mint I cannot remember ever having a piece of lamb so meltingly, fall apart-when-you-breathe-on-it, soft. This must have been braised for days. I’d be curious to know the source as well because it was much less “lamb-y” than is usually the case. Although I happen to like lamb, I understand why many people (including the LDC) don’t. But even she found this morsel tasty. Still, perhaps because the meat was so soft, the gravy atop could have been reduced a bit; it seemed overkill to add more liquid to a preparation that was already melt-in-your-mouth unctuous.
Raspberry, lychee, kokum and nasturtiumAlmost like a palate cleanser between courses, only better. The acid of the fruit and the peppery note from the nasturtium made it clear that the entrée courses were behind us. Flavors were full, intense, and refreshing. Given its place in the meal, hard to imagine it being improved upon. (The meal had taken us to the Andes; kokum is from southern India, a slightly sour (deep red) fruit, related to mangosteen.)
Pear, black sugar, licorice, and lemon verbena: the presentation
A peek under the domeI’m not exactly sure what the various chunks of stuff under the dome were but they were crunchy and sweet and made for a great contrast with the soft, lovely dome. Sweet—both literally and figuratively.
Chocolate, ground cherry, hazelnut , and banana mintI fear that, one week later, my memory does not engage. I take that as a bad thing. I remember neither particularly enjoying nor particularly not enjoying this dish. Offering any other comments at this point would not only be superfluous but speculative.
Mignardises Not much to say here. I have expressed my general dislike for this “course” elsewhere. Unless the pastry chef is operating at an extraordinary level, most offerings will be very good but no more. Extraordinary pastry chefs are as rare as extraordinary chefs and although they do exist and clearly can delight, surprise, and entertain, the mignardises are not the focus of their work. As always, the offerings were well done, no more. I am perfectly content—indeed, very happy—to omit this course entirely. This is probably also the place to note that I had a double espresso: also very competent but no more. The crema was largely absent and though the cup was good, a full depth of flavor, a necessary complexity was missing.
Surprise birthday mango cakeIt seemed churlish to not to care for this dish given the thought behind it—a surprise from the kitchen in honor of the LDC’s birthday. But it just didn’t work for her (and my taste didn’t particularly impress me, either).
The service: the best service I can remember having in Chicago in nearly thirty years here. Whoever trained this staff knows his/her job inside out and has my undying admiration and thanks as do all the staff who assisted in our meal in one way or another. I have never had better service: always unobtrusive, almost never visible, always timed perfectly. While others have reported drinks served to the wrong person or courses served while diners were absent, we experienced nothing amiss. Our server, though not the warmest person, was pleasant, eager to ensure we were missing nothing, very knowledgeable, and always available.
The pacing of courses was close to ideal. I’ve noticed that too many places are now serving the next course before you’ve barely finished swallowing the last one (Eleven Madison Park was particularly egregious in that regard and Next is often guilty as well). But I can think of few missteps in the course of the entire evening. One, however, is a pet peeve of ours. Duffy is not Japanese; neither was our server. Someone needs to tell them how to pronounce
chawanmushi. If it’s on your menu, you have an obligation to know what you’re serving, which means not only ingredients and preparation, but pronunciation. Even the menu was typo-free…something increasingly rare. The sommelier was approachable yet exceedingly knowledgeable and managed to impart her knowledge without making me feel like an idiot for asking (a skill some of her colleagues elsewhere in town would do well to learn). As our conversation progressed, I chose to rely on her choice for one glass and was pleased I did. I no longer do pairings—too much alcohol, too little recollection of what I had—so I generally choose two glasses for the evening. Here, I went with a white (after discussing the wisdom of going with a sparkling wine instead) and a red (that I hadn’t expected to end up with).
It was an unexpected treat to be asked if we wanted to visit the kitchen (by Michael Muser, the general manager, no less). Intriguing to watch—reminded me of no place so much as Alinea: immaculate, quiet, intense. And the word on the chalk board: “Consistency!” We stood around for a while just watching until it became apparent that we were waiting until Chef Duffy came over to say hello. If you’ve read Kevin Pang’s long story in the Trib, you know his fascinating and impressive back story. Even if you don’t, he’s impressive, even in a one-minute encounter. He seemed genuinely interested in our experience and we both got the feel of a man with no pretense, no artificiality. When we read a few days later about the two Michelin stars, we couldn’t have been happier for him. He’s worked incredibly hard to get Grace where it is. It shows in every detail.
I would be remiss not to note that several people whose knowledge and experience I think highly of, have had less than wonderful experiences here. I can’t account for that; I believe them and I believe that they are recounting their experiences without any shading. The only plausible answer to explain their reviews and mine is “inconsistency.” I am disappointed to think that yet I don’t know quite what else to think to explain it. Duffy is too experienced and too good to consider it a learning curve on his part. Even though he hasn’t had his “own” restaurant before, he was in charge at Avenues after GEB left and we still remember that dinner very fondly as well. So I offer this review, in the end, as just another data point.
Grace is well-named: it shows in every aspect of the house and it fits. Take a moment or two and think about that word, what it means, what it means to you. And then make your reservation. You’ll see what Curtis Duffy thinks it means and I think you’ll come away impressed. We loved our time there and, if we had better cash flow, we’d be back much sooner than otherwise. (I cannot disagree with those who say that this is one very expensive meal. Even without the pairings, our total tab came to just under $600.) Grace is an exceptional place in a city fortunate to have so much superb competition.
Gypsy Boy
"I am not a glutton--I am an explorer of food." (Erma Bombeck)