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