Campfire yes, S'mores, no.Photo: courtesy Next
We sometimes feel that Phil Vettel tries to fit everything into a fine dining template that actual diners seem to be fleeing in droves— as in his Perennial Virant review, which was orgasmic over the food yet could only scrounge up three stars. To us, that is one future of four star dining if the term has any meaning at all— great fresh tastes from a great chef in a decidedly unpretentious atmosphere. So some might not see it as meaningful that he gives Next Childhood four stars— after all, it's not the first time he's bestowed four stars on the place. But we like that he gives himself over to the concept completely, and doesn't fault it for nitpicky white tablecloth things: "'Childhood,' the latest menu from Next, Grant Achatz and Nick Kokonas' shape-shifting restaurant, is a Proustian food journey that, although based on Achatz's and executive chef Dave Beran's childhoods, is designed to evoke yours... This intensely personal iteration represents a breaking away (however temporary) from Next's culinary-cover-band mold. Instead, the 11-course menu is a progression of memory triggers with a decidedly whimsical bent." Along the way he describes a new dish not on the menu when we had it— an opening cocktail "sip" as if stolen from Dad's home-from-work cocktail. [Tribune]
Time Out's had enough brunch and finally has some dinner spots to review. Julia Kramer awards a rare four out of five stars to The Barrelhouse Flat, much to her surprise. She likes, but finds safe, the cocktail program by Aviary and Violet Hour vets. She hates the crowd, who seem unworthy of the drinks. She rolls her eyes at the first item on the food menu, pig-face poutine. And then... "It is positively shocking how good the food is at the Barrelhouse Flat, including, yes, the pig-face poutine, which perhaps to spite its naysayers, is exactly what a mash-up of fries, gravy and braised pork never imagined itself to be: balanced, via roasted figs and just the right amount of acid. Same goes for the take on a porchetta sandwich, dripping with juices like a French dip, exuding rosemary and sage. And the mushroom-blue cheese beignets stopped me in my thoroughly swizzled tracks, the meltingly rich puffs countered by frisée and a bright peppercorn gastrique." She exits admiring Chef Nick Hertel for food so good being wasted on a crowd so... wasted. [TOC]
In a three-star review, David Tamarkin likes the food at Vera, doesn't like it as a meal. Huh? On a visit centered around the cheese bar, he's happy: "As I munched on a plate of thick chocolate bark at the end of the meal, I looked back on what I’d eaten and found it a comical, nonsensical amalgam of dishes. But the snacks had satisfied, so what did I care? I was happy." But he winds up frustrated by trying to make a proper meal out of small plates: "I tried to cobble together something that would flow, but I ended up with a coursed-out meal of plates that alternately seemed oversized (a beautiful plate of meaty and, unfortunately, overly salty mushrooms) and undersized (a flawlessly cooked filet of black cod topped with an oddly frigid olivada). Had I been back at the cheese bar, the lemony garlic shrimp, or the (very intense, very livery) chicken liver toast, or the pleasantly cool and orange-kissed fluke crudo might have sufficed. But as parts of a multicourse meal, many of these dishes couldn’t hold their own." [TOC]
