I was anxious to try the restaurant as soon as I first drove by and saw a sign: Au Maquis, African Restaurant. "Maquis" is a term for an African restaurant that is typical of Cote d'Ivoire, and I suspected this might be the only such restaurant in the Chicago area. One of my students had already been there, and I decided to order a big lunch (in advance) mostly for students who had previously lived in Africa.
This is really the equivalent of being invited into someone's home in sourthern Cote d'Ivoire, with all the benefits ... and drawbacks. Catherine, the owner/chef/waitress (and probably dishwasher) is incredibly friendly and welcoming, but she speaks limited English. Some knowledge of French is definitely useful. She used to have fliers with a printed menu, but she ran out of them, and in any case they are more useful for an indication of what she can cook than what she can offer at any given moment.
Items which are generally available include:
alloko -- fried plantain which comes with a rich, thick ground pepper sauce with boiled eggs (the first time I had it, the eggs were not yet entirely hard; the second time, they were.) In Cote d"ivoire, the alloko I had were usually served with a kind of hot sauce more like tabasco or Mexican pepper sauces.
poisson braise with attieke -- [pronounced roughly "pwassone brayzay" and "acheckay"]; broiled fish (I don't know exactly what kind) with a manioc preparation unique to Cote d'Ivoire; the manioc is crumbled into little grains and left to ferment a while. This is like couscous with a kick -- great stuff if properly made. Catherine makes her own, by the way, and claims that only six out of the approximately eighty ethnic groups in Cote d'Ivoire know how to make it well; these all come from the lagoon area around Abidjan, the former capital and largest city in the country. The fish, by the way, was beatifully done, not too dry but with a crisp skin, on a bed of raw onions and green peppers, and with some of the same sauce that accompained the alloko.
Catherine had had to take her child to the hospital the night before, and was clearly still recovering herself. While we had ordered the lunch for noon, it started coming about forty minutes later. I had the impression that she was making each dish to order once we had finished the last one, so that the lunch progressed at a pace well beyond slow. We left at 4:15, after we had had, besides the alloko and the fish,
foufou with sauce claire ("clear sauce") with smoked goat; foufou is pronounced like Nigerian/Ghanaian foofoo, but is actually rather different; it is mashed very ripe plantain mixed with palm oil, more crumbly and chunky than foofoo; the sauce was a read sauce of palm oil, peppers and (I would guess) tomato. The authentic way to eat this is with your hands, grabbing a chunk of the foufou and dipping it in the sauce, but spoons are provided for the light-hearted (or heavy-handed!). The combination was very nice, but this is indeed spicy food.
We also had foutou (NOT to be confused with foufou); this is the same as Nigerian foofoo, except that you can order it made from plantains and manioc flour as well as with yam. This, I suspect, was not home made -- the only item on the menu that wasn't. We had originally ordered chicken with "sauce pistache", "pistachio sauce", as we were very curious to learn what this was. I am sure it is not made with pistachios -- these are hardly a common item in Cote d'Ivoire -- but with something else which is locally and incorrectly called pistachio. Unfortunately, Catherine couldn't find any, and served us chicken in peanut sauce. The chicken was from Devon Street, and clearly not an industrial chicken. Ivorians like their chickens on the tough and tasty side, as if they actually used their legs! Not Purdue chicken! This was nice, but I would have preferred something else, as I make my own peanut sauce if I develop a craving for it ....
All of this was ordered two days in advance; don't expect it if you show up unannounced.
We had also ordered (but ultimately had to forego) two other items:
kedjenou -- another dish found only in Cote d'Ivoire. This is made in an earthenware jar with a short cylindrical neck (or in aluminum imitations); You alternate layers of chicken and vegetables -- onions, tomatoes, peppers, garlic -- and cover the lid with a banana leaf (a wet one I suppose). The ingredients simmer in their own juice, and steam builds up in the recipient. When the dish is ready, the water vapor rises to enough pressure to gently lift up the leaf lid. Fantastic stuff -- I want to go back and try her version.
I also wanted to try her sauce graine -- palm nut cream -- also served with foufou, which she serves with smoked fish (an acquired taste!), fresh or smoked meat, crab and, if she can find them, large snails (not your father's escargots!). These snails are a specialty of sourthn Ghana and Cote d'Ivoire. My friends from the north of the country find this particularly repulsive, but well done, they are delicious. (Overcooked, of course, they are rubbery, as one might expect.) The snails, though, are expensive, she added.
Other sauces mentioned on the flier include both fresh and dried versions of okra (gombo in french; specify if you want it fresh or "sechee" (saychay) -- dried.
Aside from the broiled fish, she can do chicken, and also lists cow foot and lamb tripe soups for the adventurous.
Saving this restaurant may be a major project! But it is both unique and delicious -- well worth the drawbacks in my opinion. However, the restaurant is chronically empty (though given the total absence of decor, I know people who will go for takeout rather than stay to eat there.) I suspect it caters mostly to African cabbies.
Again, if you go:
either order in advance over the phone or, better, in person; or be prepared to go with the flow and settle for what she has available. There is no printed menu anymore anyway. She serves bissap (African agua de jamaica) and you can bring your own wine or beer by all means.
Don't go there if you are in a hurry, though ....