I have to admit I was amused to read a little dustup the other day over whether it was proper to describe
Cafe Selmarie as being more appealing to women or men. Politically incorrect or not, the first word that comes to my mind about the place is "girly." Maybe not as much as Angel Food Bakery, or American Girl Place, but it is the kind of a place that a guy leaves after Sunday breakfast wishing for two extra sides of bacon and some hot sauce. Things may be fairly good, but they're subtle, they're quiet, they're just too polite.
I can think of three meals I've had at upscale places where I had something of the same feeling-- they were excellent in certain ways, but they were subtle, delicate in their effects, well-behaved and harmonious, and at some point I just felt like my taste-o-meter wasn't getting a tryout beyond about 3, no matter that I was impressed by certain aspects of the meal. And now two of them were by prominent female chefs, Susan Crofton at Crofton on Wells and self-described "surfer girl" Carol Wallack at Sola-- a statistically significant proportion of total meals I've eaten in female-chef'd high end establishments in Chicago. On the other hand, the third was Shawn McClain's cooking at
Spring, and he went on to open a steakhouse; and on the other other hand, there's Hot Chocolate, which ought to scream girly, from the name to the dessert focus, and yet
my one meal there was robust and hearty.
So what's my conclusion, as I skate on ever thinner ice about the alleged differences between the alleged sexes? All I can say is, Sola was a very well-crafted meal, but a polite one, where even a chocolate dessert with "wasabi vanilla bean sauce" didn't disturb the peace. Only one ingredient in the entire restaurant seems to be allowed to get all heavy metal and rock out-- walking through the room, you could tell which tables had ordered the truffle-parmesan french fries without even looking, and the fried artichoke hearts that came with a truffle whip to dip in also gave off whiffs of truffleized excess and intoxication that no other ingredient was allowed to aim for.
Part of that, I recognize, comes with Sola's Asian minimalist influence, and that's fine as a governing philosophy, but the problem came in something like the appetizer pictured above, which combined chunks of eel, avocado and banana-- the others being so mild that banana successfully overpowered them; it might as well have been some banana and sticky rice dessert.
For an entree, I had what was described as "Nobu's famous miso black cod" (in retrospect, I probably shouldn't have ordered something that gives credit to another chef and restaurant). The texture of the fish was beautifully flaky, delectably tender, couldn't be bettered. But there was little flavor in the fish (unless you dipped it in the mustard-like sauce around the edge-- I guess that's the miso?), even less in the "bamboo risotto," and there were just too damn many of the harsh, wet-cardboardy curry-flavored sunchoke chips it was sitting on. It was like eating a bento box meal down to the box itself.
Every restaurant like this of course has the obligatory meat and potatoes dish for the guy stuck eating at a girly place. That's what my wife ordered, and this too may simply have been an ordering mistake, maybe if she had gone for something like the short ribs there would have been more excitement at play there. The small filet was admirably charred and exactly the right texture, but the potatoes and portobello mushrooms in a wine reduction were gummy and uninteresting. It shouldn't be quite so obvious that the meat-and-potatoes standby is being tossed off.
Now, so far it seems like I'm slamming Sola pretty hard. Yet while I was there I didn't quite feel that way. In fact, my attitude toward my meal was very different-- I was looking at my fish, going, "Come on! You can do it! You're exquisitely cooked, you're a nice high-quality piece of fish, if you just push that extra little bit you can have some really outstanding flavor and we'll be blown away by you." But up through this part of the meal, it just didn't happen.
Dessert was the meal's last chance to wow us. The gooey chocolate cake with the alleged wasabi vanilla bean sauce (well, it was green, if not hot) was pleasant like those gooey chocolate things always are, and the "sesame brittle" ice cream was quite good, if a bit lost next to so much dark chocolate.
Much more impressive was a special of a strawberry shortcake with a ginger-tinged sauce. Here at last was a combination where fresh produce bursting with seasonal flavor met exactly the strong accent note that would sharpen it up beyond the usual.
We live near enough to Sola that we will probably try it again, and the execution of the dishes was so good as to encourage that, and I kind of feel that it was one of those meals where, as far as entrees went, we ordered the wrong things to match its strengths with our likes. But I will try to order from the dishes that seem to push harder, and I hope the restaurant will evolve over time toward bolder flavors, toward more pop on the plate-- Wallack clearly has the sense of balance to do that well, it just takes the will to blast a few more trumpet notes. Be bold, surfer girl! Hang 10! Well-behaved food rarely makes history.
Sola
3868 N Lincoln Ave
Chicago, IL 60613
(773) 327-3868