Speaking of Enoteca Roma...

I love Chicago, and lord knows it has its share of wonderful restaurants, bars, bakeries, etc. But among the waitstaff of said establishments there seems to be a nasty case of apathy going around. And in case you were wondering, apathetic is not among the list of adjectives used to describe grade A servers.

Enoteca Roma, on "hot, hot Division," is not yet dead to me. But it is very, very ill to me. It should be writing its will, and gathering its loved ones around. And mentioning to its employees that being attentive to their customers is sort of, um, their job.

The food, (when at last it arrived), was neither here nor there. Which is a shame. If it had been phenomenal I might have more readily forgiven that it took an hour for it to arrive, an hour during which all the tables surrounding us, including those which had arrived long after we had, were served their meals. Our waiter showed up at one point to assure us that our food was on the way, then he conveniently disappeared. In a place as small as Enoteca, you have to make an effort to disappear.

Because they're known for their polenta dishes, and the wacky way in which they're presented, (poured onto a marble slab, spread thin and sprinkled with toppings table side), we ordered some. When the polenta arrived it arrived alone. The food runner spread the polenta out for us, then disappeared. For twenty minutes. The rest of the dish never arrived, nor did the rest of the meal. When no one appeared to rectify the situation I finally went to bar to plead with the bartender. To his credit he seemed appropriately appalled, and went immediately into the kitchen to sort things out. While we waited some more our server appeared to apologize weakly and ask if he could get us dessert on the house. "Um, we'd like to eat first."

Eventually we did. Everyone else had paid their tab and was heading home. Even the percentage of the bill that was knocked off our check didn't make up for the long wait and insufficient care that had been taken to let us know that no, we were in fact not invisible.

The deal with Bluebird...

I know I've complained about Bluebird in the past. A lot. And I had good reason to. But I would be remiss not to give credit where credit was due, and it would appear that where Bluebird is concerned, the fourth time's a charm.

Our most recent visit was for a friend's birthday party. Maybe Bluebird just rolls out the red carpet for parties of eight or more, but whatever the reason, the service, the food, and the timing were all considerably better than my three previous visits. A word to the wise: don't expect to get out of here without emptying your wallet. While Bluebird may woo you with it's oh-so-casual bar-like atmosphere, the tab can get pretty hefty pretty fast. This is a special occasion kind of place, despite its corner-bar come-on.

Lovely: A Bakeshop. Chicago's loveliest coffeehouse

A warning to the (coffee)bar fly: Lovely has cut you off from your power supply. If you bring your laptop hoping to spend an afternoon of quality time with it and a latte, make sure it’s sufficiently charged beforehand. In an effort to encourage card-playing and other forms of face-to-face interaction, Lovely’s sockets are now no good to you. Or me. Buyer beware. If, on the other hand, you came for a treat and some coffee, well, you’re in luck!

One part Americana charm, one part Old World patisserie, Lovely: A Bakeshop is a bright spot on an otherwise drab stretch of Milwaukee Avenue. The owners, professionally trained in the art of French pastry, use their talent to crank out old-fashioned American treats like cupcakes topped with generous swirls of fluffy frosting, and individual apple pies. On the European side you’ll find the likes of glossy, chocolate espresso tarts and wedges of blueberry almondine. The lunch crowd can choose from sandwiches, soups, and other savories like quiche (the broccoli is particularly tasty) and the requisite coffee, tea, and espresso drinks are all on offer. Need a last minute gift for the retro domestic goddess in your life? Lucky for you, a small assortment of vintage-inspired kitchenware and accessories (think gingham aprons) are available in the back of the store. For those with a refined sweet tooth there are Lovely’s own jams, fruit butters, and granola for sale.

lovelybakeshop.com, 1130 N. Milwaukee Ave.

Bluebird, redeem thyself!

The owners of Webster’s Wine Bar hopped on the gastropub bandwagon (along with every other new pub owner and his brother) with the opening of Bluebird a year ago plus. As far as ambiance goes, it weren't broke so they didn't fix it: Webster’s cozy-hip exposed brick and worn wood aesthetic is echoed here. True to form, the wine and beer lists are comprehensive and eclectic. No issues there. The menu offers small bites like olives and fries, and heartier plates like braised rabbit over pasta. The chicken wings are a favorite, and a selection of cured meats and cheeses is on offer to be ordered by the ounce. So what am I whingeing about? Oh, nothing much, just that every time I give Bluebird a chance they go and screw it up again: an order, the timing, the complete and utter lack of anything resembling customer service. I get the too-cool-to-care thing. Really I do. But then I guess don't expect us to care either, Bluebird.

May Street Market

Let it be known up front, I would rather eat a divine burger in a complete dive than an insipid supper amidst the classiest décor. I suspect I am not alone in this sentiment (witness countless establishments that look like nothing from the outside and don't get much better once you're through the door, yet manage somehow to turn a profit on the merits of the grub alone). That said, I have nothing against, and indeed greatly enjoy, dining in those "finer" establishments that appreciate that to some extent we do eat with our eyes, and the our surroundings are a part of that. May Street Market certainly gets that ambiance can improve the experience of dining. Décor alone, however, does not a restaurant make.

May Street Market is one of those places I really wanted to like. On a recent Saturday night, after learning that it would be nearly ten before we could sit down at West Town Tavern, I called May Street Market to see if they had any tables available. The irony of the situation was not lost on me--West Town Tavern touts itself as a "local" joint, a corner locale where you can go on a weeknight to grab a burger and catch up with your neighbors. May Street Market, however, comes with a certain caché. It has a reputation as being more upscale, more of an occasion restaurant. And yet on a Saturday night at 6 o'clock, where was there still a table available at 7?

While the décor is lovely and the menu enticing, the remaining elements are lacking. The convivial waitstaff needs a lesson in timing, and the food, while flavorful, was just--off; we had already finished our first course before the bottle of wine we had ordered arrived; the butternut squash soup was flavorful but lukewarm; the coq au vin was served in a dish so deep and narrow that it made cutlery impossible to implement, and the steak frites were alternately tough (the steak) and greasy (the frites). Needless to say, we skipped dessert.

The lesson here, for all at May Street, is if you're going to do the whole classic French bistro thing, you'd better learn to make a sauce without breaking it, and to teach your staff the difference between wines from Chile and those from Argentina (we needed to explain this to our waiter). The lesson for diners is probably not a new one: if an eleventh hour reservation sounds too good to be true, it probably is.

May Street Market
1132 W. Grand Avenue
312.421.5547
www.maystreetmarket.com

Rodan

One of the first places I visited when I moved to Chicago was Rodan, a Wicker Park hangout of the impossibly hip. If American Apparel opened a bar, this would be it. Glancing around, I recall thinking that my jeans weren't nearly skinny enough, and my host suggested facetiously that a cinching station be provided at the door for the fashion-challenged like myself. We then proceeded to down a few rounds of lychee martinis, which were of the insidiously intoxicating ilk of beverage that tastes like juice, acts like ethanol. The next morning I remembered the drinks, but couldn't remember where we'd had them.

Fast-forward six months--I dropped in for a quick beer, thinking I was a first-time visitor. Only after a minute or two of taking in my surroundings did I realize I'd been there before. There was a young couple dressed in all black at the bar, downing shots of whiskey and chasing them with flutes of sparkling wine. They bought the aloof bartender a shot of vodka, which he swallowed stoically. I glanced at the menu, but after realizing that I was the only one in the entire room whose hair was not dyed black and cut in some class of asymmetrical fringe, I paid my tab and exited.

Fast-forward again. I agree to meet a friend for dinner. I felt I owed Rodan at least this, having previously consumed only liquids on the premises. The menu of Latin American and Southeast Asian cuisine did, after all, look appealing, and despite the hip vibe and location, it's reasonably priced. We started with a round of lychee martinis which were as tasty as I remembered, though not strong enough to take the edge of my disappointment with the food.

A coconut and ginger ceviche was intriguing, though it lacked salt and was presented in a comically proportioned dish so small and shallow it only barely contained the chunks of fish in their accompanying sauce. The grilled shrimp with mango and corn salsa were tender, but again lacked salt. The salsa consisted solely of mango with a few shreds of green papaya thrown in for contrast. Again, comically, we were able to locate only a single kernel of corn in the whole melange. Sesame-orange tofu crepes, described as containing sauteed greens, were similarly misleading. The crepes were thick and chewy, more like rice flour pancakes which might have been okay had their contents been substantial enough to hold their own. But the slightly spicy tofu was flavored almost imperceptibly with orange, and the promised greens were a few measly pieces of something too overcooked to be recognizable.

My advice? Stick with the martinis, wear tight pants, and pretend you're just too cool to care about the rest.

Rodan
1530 N. Milwaukee
773.276.7036
www.rodan.ws

In Fine Spirits

Ah, the good old, bad old days of Al Capone's Chicago, when the bootleg could blind you and drown your sorrows all at once. Here in Chicago, booze has come a long way since then, and adding creative ingredients to bathtub gin to mask its unappealing flavor is no longer a necessity. Rather, mixology has become an art, less about hiding flavors and more about creating new ones, accentuating the nuances of fine liquor and spirits.

Speaking of fine spirits, a new gin joint by that name has recently opened in Andersonville. In Fine Spirits, one part retail, one part cocktail lounge, is a pleasing blend of the old and the new. Just in time for the cocktail fest that is summer, this place has brushed the dust of an old building and some old drink recipes, and made everything old new again.

What used to be the local animal hospital on Clark Street is a now a relaxing location to sip on a drink and enjoy a (pricey) nosh. The building got an overhaul that exposed the original tile flooring and tin ceilings, and added light wood and fresh paint in earthy, Mediterranean tones. The staff is friendly, and confident enough in their mixing abilities that they'll offer to make you a different drink should what you ordered not be to your liking. A recent visit to the bar for a Vesper and a Caipirinha left myself and a friend buzzed and impressed. The Vesper, a drink James Bond invented in Casino Royale, was a surprisingly smooth blend of Chicago Distillers Gin and Vodka evened out with a hit of Lillet. My friend, who married a Brazilian and has spent enough time in his native land to become intimately acquainted with the national cocktail, pronounced the Caipirinha to be authentic, if slightly more refined (ie. fewer chunks of lime) than the homemade version.

Head next door for the retail half, and get some recommendations on a new summer wine or beer to sample.

In Fine Spirits
5418 N. Clark
773.506.9463
http://www.infinespirits.com/