Bread, historians will tell you, goes back an awfully long way. Back to the Neolithic era, as a matter of fact, which means it's about as old as farming itself. It also means that if you're trying to put together a memorable bread basket, you've got a lot of history to compete with. After all, with a few thousand years of bread in our past, it takes something pretty special to turn heads these days.
So the bread barons at Max & Benny's start by adhering to one of the oldest rules in the book: If you want something done right, you've got to do it yourself. All the bread in their baskets — every bialy stick and every marble roll — is baked on-site. And we're not talking about your run-of-the-mill mix; sit down at Max & Benny's and you might find a fresh challah roll mingling with a French onion roll, with a spinach-and-feta roll or two thrown in for good measure. And each and every basket is customized, in a manner of speaking: They're all assembled as you're seated, built to accommodate your party size. Don't be bashful about asking for another helping of your favorite — the folks at M&B's are more than happy to acquiesce. Because, of course, generosity, historically speaking, makes for happy customers. JC
461 Waukegan Road, Northbrook, 847/272-9490; 332 E. Illinois St., Chicago, 312/321-9490
What do you get when you mix wheat flour, water and seasoning into dough, rinse the starch out and then boil the concoction? Wheat meat. Yes, wheat meat. Technically, it's called seitan (SAY-tahn), the Japanese term for cooked wheat gluten. But don't hold your nose. Please, furl your tongue back into your mouth. Seitan is a high-protein, low-fat meat substitute that's been a staple of countless diets across the globe, from Russian farmers and Asian monks to Mormons and regulars at Blind Faith Café in Evanston.
David Lipschutz, owner of Blind Faith, has been cooking with seitan for more than 20 years due to its neutral taste and ability to absorb surrounding spices and flavors. His favorite entrée, seitan Marsala, features medallions of seitan (surprisingly chewy and firm, like sirloin) and button mushrooms in a Marsala wine sauce with jasmine rice, butternut squash and steamed broccoli. If you're in the mood for something spicier, try Lipschutz's colorful Mongolian seitan — broccoli, red bell pepper and scallions served with brown rice.
And if seitan's not your meat substitute of choice, Lipschutz also makes a mean enchiladas verde, Thai peanut noodles and grilled tofu "crab" cakes that taste like ... well ... crab.
Oh, and did we mention the flourless chocolate cake for dessert? Like everything else, it's healthy. Right? EN
525 Dempster St., Evanston, 847/328-6875
We've got a bold proposal for the United Nations: Forget Geneva. Don't bother with New York. You want to learn how to resolve your differences? Call a meeting at Francesca's North, the Northbrook stand-by that's been pleasing customers since 1995, and order a round of zucchini and gamberetti risotto for the whole table. Observe how each ingredient adds its own element to the mix — big pieces of zucchini and tomato for texture, saffron providing the color, meaty shrimp for substance. Notice that the flavors aren't at war; the essence of each component thrown into the collective pot, no single taste prevails, but a new one is born. It's the taste of cooperation. It'll make you feel like getting along. And since the type of risotto changes regularly, you can come back for another lesson in diplomacy any time you like — at under $10 a pop for an appetizer portion, you won't start World War III arguing about the check. JC
1145 Church St., Northbrook, 847/559-0260
Ah, pictures belie a thousand flavors, don't they? We lifted this culinary pin-up from page 36 of Debbie and Carlos Nieto's cookbook, Carlos' Contemporary French Cuisine, which is a glossy photo album masquerading as a recipe book. Truth is, the Nietos' creations are so playfully delicious and artistically graceful, taking a fork to them feels a bit like drawing a mustache under the nose of Mona Lisa. The word "tasteful" comes to mind. Take the above work, grilled prawn with parsnip custard and microwave-popcorn sauce. What gives this piece such "pop" is its rather whimsical juxtaposition of competing shapes and textures. A jiggly island of egg-heavy parsnip custard balances a grilled prawn, which seesaws delicately over a popcorn-flavored sauce of crumbled vegetable chips. Dancing along the edges are cumulous popcorn sprites. Jagged shapes? Planes of flavor? Brushstrokes of color? Makes you wonder, "Is this a meal or a still life by Paul Cézanne?" PG
429 Temple Ave., Highland Park, 847/432-0770
You know what my favorite part is? The golf ball game. And you can sit at any table you want. People always like to go there because you can get a cheeseburger and fries and a milkshake and those are really good at Fuddrucker's. And they have cookies. Everybody's favorite is chocolate chip. (Sebastian Locke, age 5)
1538 Clavey Road, Highland Park, 847/831-2501; 436 E. Golf Road, Schaumburg, 847/519-9390
There's a reason they call it a Hackneyburger. At its core it's comprised of the same staple ingredients that make up all hamburgers — ground beef, toppings, bread — but it's an original all the same. As unique as the string of restaurants that spawned it. That's because the folks at Hackney's don't take any chances with the most popular item on their menu. And if you've been thinking of trying to replicate the iconic sandwich at your house, well, here's what to do: Go to your butcher, the same one you've been using for over 30 years. Pick up your special, specific blend of ground chuck, the one whose fat content always hovers at or below 13 percent. Cook it to perfection, serve it up on bread you've baked yourself — and call it a legend. JC
1514 E. Lake Ave., Glenview, 847/724-7171; 1241 Harms Road, Glenview, 847/724-5577; 880 N. Old Rand Road, Lake Zurich, 847/438-2103; 241 S. Milwaukee Ave., Wheeling, 847/537-2100; 733 S. Dearborn St., Chicago, 312/461-1116
Operated under the guidance of Jay Lovell, son of former astronaut Captain James Lovell, Lovells of Lake Forest has had diners screaming for delicacies like wood-smoked pork chops with balsamic reduction and striped bass with fresh herb emulsion since the late '90s. But what could make this upscale favorite the most "North Shore" of the North Shore? Perhaps it's the little ways the restaurant connects with neighboring communities. For instance, you might have seen chef Lovell somewhere around Š
• Evanston, former home to culinary wellspring Kendall College, from which he graduated in 1986 • Lakemoor, where he worked at Le Vichyssois (he also logged time at PJ Willikers in Lincolnshire and The Forge Club in Vernon Hills, among others)• Mundelein, where he makes his home • Lake Forest, home to the restaurant and Captain Lovell, himself. Jay also does charity work around the Lake Forest area at places like the Gorton Community Center. JC
915 S. Waukegan Road, Lake Forest, 847/234-8013
And there you are. A spot of Earl Gray or Gunpowder Green. A Pear Caramel or Bombay Chai. Lovely. A lump, or two. Devonshire cream. And just a few peckish bits, a tart and an egg salad and a bit of fresh tomato. Civilized, this. Little wonder they come here, the celebrities and dignitaries and royals. For 85 years now, they say. Kings and queens and presidents and, a decade ago, a particular Princess once plucked from the world too soon. And since you've voted this the most noble, the highest order of tea emporiums, you might consider raising a cup to Diana yourself this month. Save the date for dear Di's commemorative tea, won't you? April 9. The people at the Drake will take care of all the details ($32). Cheers. ST
140 E. Walton Place, Chicago, 312/932-4614
Oh, the drama — the intrigue! Who could ask for a more delicious assignment (especially since the winner was Miramar, land of French Kisses and au poivre sauce to die for)? I made reservations for 8 p.m. on a Friday and asked for the most eavesdrop-worthy table in the house. It was crowded, and noisy, but there was enough juicy conversation to keep my undercover reporter's pen moving. Discretion is of course mandatory, even to voyeurs like us, so we're printing just enough to whet your eavesdropping appetite. See if you can guess what they might be talking about. ST
301 Waukegan Ave., Highwood, 847/433-1078
Jose Florez's official title, il formaggiaio, has a certain creamy ring to it. Kind of spreads off the tongue like a knife crawling its way across a velvety swath of camembert. Il formaggiaio. But in a pinch, you can refer to
Florez as Spiaggia's Cheese Wiz, the guardian of the restaurant's Cava di Stagionatura. (Read: Humidor for rare, mostly Italian cheeses hand-selected by chef Tony Mantuano and Florez.) Individual slices are $8 — $32 for a complete tasting. Below, you'll find three selections worth pointing to on Jose Florez's cart. Mangia, mangia at Spiaggia. And enjoy.
Testun Barricatto: Pressings from Barolo wine are packed around the cheese in the mold, then pressed again, permanently ingraining the seeds and skins of the Nebbiolo grapes into the crust of the cheese. The crumbly remains are a mite sharp but as fruity as a glass of Welch's with a seed-textured crunch.
Vento D'Estate: An herb garden in cheese form. Rolled and sealed in an aromatic mixture of wild thyme, hay and rosemary, this sheep's milk cheese from the Veneto is mild in its youth then quite musty as it matures. Its coat of herbs seeps in quickly and flavors the interior with notes usually reserved for your spice rack.
Castelmagno: This is an edible heirloom from the municipality of Castelmagno in Northern Italy, where documents dating back to 1277 show it was paid to the Marquis of Saluzzo as rent. The duke, obviously a formaggio afficianado, made out on the deal. Light, floral and delicate, this is not your Brother Roquefort's blue cheese. It's a magnet for red wines, perfectly balanced with a hint of bitterness. PG
980 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, 312/280-2750
Executive corporate chef Joe Decker designed his mashed potatoes, which have been on the menu since the first Wildfire opened 10 years ago, to be eaten stark naked. In dishabille, if you will. "It's always been our belief that true quality ingredients, simply prepared, are the best way to capture pure flavors," says Decker. 'Nuff said. Here's the recipe. And hold the gravy. PG
159 W. Erie St., Chicago, 312/787-9000; 1300 Patriot Blvd., Glenview, 847/657-6363; 235 Parkway Drive, Lincolnshire, 847/279-7900; 1250 E. Higgins Road, Schaumburg, 847/995-0100
You're staring at the pearl of Shaw's oyster bar — the Raspberry Point oyster. It's easy to spot. Surf your eyes over the dozen or so bivalves Shaw's keeps on ice by the bar (they serve six more in the main dining room) and hunt for the shell sporting a rusty, almost-raspberry hue. That's the bulls-eye you're looking for.
Shaw's, which sells an average of 1,000 oysters a day, is so proud of these East Coast imports that they inducted their grower, Scott Linkletter, into the Shaw's Raw Bar Hall of Fame in 2005. Unlike their more pungent cousins from the West Coast — the metallic-tinged Olympia oyster or cucumber-flavored Kumamoto — Raspberry Points taste as clean and crisp as their home waters near Prince Edward Island. Perfectly salted, a touch sweet, they take six to seven years to mature, yielding thick tongues of meat. They're so plump in fact, general manager Mark Palicki of Shaw's in Chicago says you can bite into them like they're mini scallops.
They're also perfectly suited for oyster shooters — a jigger of tomato juice, vodka, Tabasco, horseradish and salt and pepper. All in all, the shooter should taste like a salty Bloody Mary with a lump of a finish. Keep that little cocktail clue to yourself, though. Linkletter insists they should only be eaten straight up so you can taste the sea as they slide down the hatch. Gotcha. After all, you're in no mood to tangle with a Hall of Famer, are you? PG
21 E. Hubbard St., Chicago 312/527-2722; 1900 E. Higgins Road, Schaumburg 847/517-2722
It's like walking into an outtake from the movie Moulin Rouge. Take the silky panache of a pasha's palace, crossbreed it with the candle-lit glass-and-brass elegance of a Montmarte bistro, then splice the results with an old-fashioned American steakhouse and you've got some idea of the what's behind the front door of The Tavern in Libertyville. Five years ago, owner Linda Slagle closed down the restaurant for two months and started filtering out the old knickknacks and splicing in a lifetime's worth of antique finds. Local bricklayers, New York oil painters and Connecticut cabinetmakers took care of the detailing. Another layer of imports added a final flourish. (The silk lanterns in the dining room, for example, were purchased and then shipped to the States by a Vietnamese cabbie.) The idea, says Slagle, was to be "lighthearted and inspiring," to create a restaurant where every seat in the house would yield its own hidden architectural secrets. Think "Where's Waldo" for the interior design set. Here's an annotated blueprint of the main bar. We'll let you have your own fun in the dining room. PG
519 N. Milwaukee Ave., Libertyville 847/367-5755
For me, life's essential question is not "where did we come from?" Or "does God exist?" Or even "why, with all that talent in the '80s, couldn't Ditka's Bears win more than one Super Bowl?" No, ever since a blessed soul weaned me off of Gerber-sized jars of pureed carrots and cinnamon-flavored applesauce, I've been obsessed with solving the ultimate unsolved riddle, "what constitutes a perfect meal?"
And who better to ask this question than free-thinking foodies like you, the readers of North Shore, who chose Le Francais as your favorite restaurant (and best spot for foie gras) in this year's Readers' Choice Poll.
This might be a good moment to confess my sins. More specifically, the duplicitous, despicable, underhanded trick I recently devised to test Le Francais' mettle.
For the record, the good folks at Le Francais deserve better than this. Owner Mike Moran, who frequented the restaurant for 30 years before he bought it in October 2003, deserves better. Chef Roland Liccioni, who earned a five-star Mobile rating during his first stint at Le Francais from 1989-1999, deserves better. Sommelier Bruce "wonderful wino" Crofts, who could pair wines with peanuts and Slim Jims if he had to, deserves better. And the staff, who fold your napkins into origami-style peacocks and swans no matter how many times you get up from your seat, they deserve better, too.
They all deserve better. But I did it anyway.
I did what any self-respecting guest dining at a four-star French restaurant should never ever do: I invited a hardcore vegetarian with an aversion to butter, wine and all things containing sugar to join me for dinner. And then I let her order her meal like she was Jack Nicholson in Five Easy Pieces.
Call it crude, if you will, madame. But know this: True chefs live for this. For a challenge. They know menus are a necessary evil. They'd rather you just stroll into their restaurants, take a seat, put a napkin over your lap and whisper only three words: "Cook for me." The more restrictions, the better. Especially for a guru like Liccioni, who also maintains his Chicago outposts, Les Nomades and Le Lan.
Which is why, on a recent Friday night at Le Francais, I let my companion lean toward our server and say, "I'll have the seven-course degustation menu, but I'm a vegetarian. So only vegetables, please. No beef. No chicken. No fish. And if you can hold the butter that would be great. Light oil, too. And easy on the sugar. Thanks."
I didn't say a word. After all, her loss is my gain. The only folks silly enough not to order Roland's savory foie gras stacked with abalone mushrooms and blood oranges steeped in port are either vegetarians or City of Chicago council members.
Nor did I wince when our server returned and asked (almost woundedly), "So no caviar?"
Her actual response? A polite "no." But what she really wanted to say was, "I'll eat the French caviar with cauliflower espuma, cold foie gras on brioche and liquid truffle ravioli if you 1) hold the caviar 2) nix the foie gras 3) forget to butter the bread and 4) serve the ravioli, plain, on a spoon.
For the record, you don't pay much attention to these things when you're staring at your own entrée of quail and rib eye forested with lentils, baby onions and asparagus. But I had to admit I was curious to see Liccioni's response. The results? Why exactly what the vegan ordered, of course. Cauliflower espuma sans the caviar, a delicious, unbuttered mushroom tart in place of the foie gras and a square ravioli, striped with black truffles like a pillowy zebra. Needless to say, it was devoured in 40 seconds flat.
And that was followed on her side by a perfectly textured champagne-mushroom risotto and foamed mashed potatoes that dissolved on our tongues like spud-flavored cotton candy.
It was a spoon or two later that I came to a key clue in answering that most burning of questions, "what makes for the perfect meal?"
I'd share it with you, of course. But then again, you've been to Le Francais lately, haven't you? PG
269 S. Milwaukee Ave., Wheeling, 847/541-7470
