February 14, 2005

Noisy Blackbird delivers

I went to Blackbird, that institution of chic, urban Chicago fine dining, and except for the hipper-than-thou waitstaff, I was suitably impressed by the food (if not by the fact that I could hear every single, dull converation around me thanks to the close-set tables and the amazing acoustics of the room).

A pioneer of the glitzy restaurant strip on Randolph Street, Blackbird's minimalist white facade and stark interior stand in contrast to the intense flavors of the contemporary American food of chef Paul Kahan. Appetizers include a silky foie gras terrine paired with gingerbread and fig-molasses-drizzled green apples, as well as a more subtle and simple California mussel soup chock full of the delectable, plump shellfish. The entrees also combine a variety of robust flavors that work together at the very edge of overpowering the tongue, including a succulent tea-infused Pekin duck breast and confit (with plump prunes to add sweetness to the savory), mustard greens, and braised root vegetables, or Kahan’s signature dish of wood-grilled California sturgeon served on a bed of oxtail and dill with curried corn and chanterelles. Even the desserts are startlingly original, including a rich and strangely unsweet, olive-oil-drizzled cocoa cake with kumquats, and a hot, buttery beignet atop a slab of cool creme-fraiche ice cream garnished with black cherries and sugared sage leaves. (Just a warning: the tables are extremely close together and the restaurant is noisy, so if you’re looking for a quiet, relaxing dinner out, this is not your best bet.)

Posted by oko at 05:07 PM | Comments (0)

December 25, 2004

Have yourself a fishy little Christmas

I'm still reeling from food overload last night. Polish Christmases aren't celebrated on Christmas Day, but Christmas Eve. The big day is called Wigilia, pronounced Vee-geel-yah, with the accent on the geel, or to be honest, accent on the fish.

Your appetizers are index-card sized pieces of communion wafer, which you break and eat with your guests, wishing them a Merry Christmas. The crisp blandness of the wafer is in direct contrast to the soft salty fishiness that you will ingest in great quantities in the hours to come. No meat is allowed on this holy day and herring is the big specialty: herring in oil and onions, herring in sour cream and onions, and a herring and white bean salad with mayonnaise and mustard (I'm not sure about the onions). The herring is raw, like little bits of salty sushi, and has lots of sharp, little bones, so you have the added excitement of never knowing when you'll get a fish bone caught in your throat. Oh, and then there's the fried pike (also filled with bones), fried white fish, fried ground-up salmon cutlets, and fried ground-up whitefish cutlets. To complement this Baltic Admiral's feast, there's beet soup, boiled potatoes, rye bread, and two kinds of homemade pierogi, potato and mushroom. And warm fruit compote to drink everything down with. And did I mention all the herring?

Anyway, I don't have time to tell you more about all the other Polish traditions, like waiting until the first star comes out before starting dinner (what do you do on a cloudy Christmas Eve?) or the empty plate or celebrating midnight mass, because I have to go to my mom's to pick up the herring I forgot to take home last night. What? You think I left the herring on purpose? Well, friend, you are dead wrong - I LOVE herring - to me, Christmas herring is a special treat on a par with foie gras (but not as morally objectionable). I'm not sure what it is about herring and countries on the Baltic - Swedes have their special herring specialties that Americans don't understand either. All I can say is that raw herring appears to be an acquired taste that only the most refined of palates can appreciate, including millions of alley cats around the world. Wesolych Swiat, kitty-cats!

Posted by oko at 05:13 PM | Comments (0)