Jefe wrote:Who knows, maybe slumming it as a tourist could be fun? But Uncle Julio's?!
Alas, we landed at Uncle Julio's. Classy joint for a interstate offramp chain: under-stated Texmex kitsch, all dark wood and tile, Patrón-option margs,
table-side guac. And those chocolate piñatas, like something straight our of the Achatz playbook! We were seated at a breezy table on the back patio with a shimmering sunset view of the adjacent Embassy Suites' reservoir fountain with I-88 humming in the distance. Service was a bit scattered, though you have to ask yourself what the compensation is like at such an establishment. My Canadian father-in-law was scandalized by the idea of a 20% tip, so there you have it.
And the food! Not so bad!
Chips were not great, flimsy and brittle like Tostitos®, this must be the type of "restaurant" they derive their "style" from. Table salsa, a thin Marinara-like affair with a faint whiff of cilantro. I did ask for something spicier and was provided with a crock of a brick-colored, smoky salsa that brought the heat and suggested that the chipotles were augmented by bitter-hot chiles de arból. Respectable, I'm not kidding! Guac was garlicky and fresh and nostalgically served on a bed of shredded iceberg– I've always been fond of scraping the last of the green stuff off the plate with the lettuce as a palate cleanser. Queso, hmm, maybe this northern gringo does not appreciate this tejano delicacy. Or perhaps Uncle Julio is lazy in doctoring up the melted cheese food. Frankly, I prefer the Tostitos® rendition. Canadians insisted on ceviche, which I wincingly sampled in fear of the state of my GI tract later that evening. Though it was surprisingly fresh! It consisted of mostly, if not all little shrimpies. I'd guess it was dressed to order, all vegetal elements retained crispy brightness.
Entrees? Fajitas, you better damn believe it. More nostalgia at play here, when my parents finally let me order off the adult menu, nothing made me feel more grown up than the spectacle of that sizzling platter parading across the dining room and landing at
my place setting. And then the garnish plate– piled high with a kaleidoscope of brightly colored guac, shredded cheddar, and the like. A meal fit for a king, indeed. Perhaps I'm apathetic in my old age, but Uncle Julio's fajitas somewhat failed in the pageantry department. No sizzle, no trail of meaty perfume wafting across the dining room. What it lacked in pomp, it made up for in flavor town. Our skirt steak (which was thicker and likely, actually flank) was seared whole, properly to a medium rare and sliced to serve, rather than your more typical ersatz strips of beef cooked to a rubbery finish on that personal skillet. The meat was beefy, succulent, and redolent of soy. Strips of poblano rather than bell were also a nice touch. Their famous house-made flour torts left something to be desired. Of note- their prominently displayed tortilla machine was not it action. Though the torts were unevenly shaped and supple, suggesting their made-to-order-ness, the texture was a bit limp for me and could have benefitted from an extra few minutes on the griddle.
That Uncle Julio has some tricks up his sleeve, a pleasant surprise. I mean, with some
recent disappointmentsaround town in the TexMex department, I can't think of anywhere else to get a good platter of fajitas in Chicago-land. Maybe I've spent too much time in the suburbs, but I'm beginning to believe that sometimes its okay to
do whatever common people do!
Uncle Julio's 1831 Abriter Ct, Naperville, IL
(331) 444-1300