Another fancy meal, but I just can't see my way to a
Moto-sized evaluation of it, so I'll just cover it quickly, along with some other things of recent note from a busy week of, until now, little posting:
PlutonFor my wife's birthday, a seven-course tasting menu at the River North spot opened by the owner of the former Jacky's Bistro (who, like Marco Ferrari and Jack Daniel Jones, is risking running out of names before he runs out of restaurants). When I mentioned this to GWiv, he expressed a certain desire to escape the tasting menu routine and have a whole plate of something-- and you'll notice that he and his wife celebrated their anniversary at Morton's. I admit to a little of the same, but I couldn't think of anywhere else new to try, so we did it anyway.
As it happens, the whole experience made a striking contrast with Moto-- and, maybe, an object lesson in what makes a restaurant work. Pluton is pretty much the anti-Moto in every way, indeed it seems a classical restaurant, fit for the bluehair crowd, until you realize that the small portion on a big plate with little dots of sauce thing is still cutting edge to most people. On the minus side, I'm not sure I was really dazzled by anything I tasted, as I was two or three times at Moto. A couple of things were a tad bland, even. On the plus side, a nice, quiet, classy room and attentive, somehow both friendly and formal service left us feeling like we were, if not royalty, at least diplomats or ministers without portfolio. Where Moto seemed to be working so hard to be hip, and was occasionally comically pretentious as a result, this was a smoothly functioning, very high-toned staff that would even impress your 86-year-old uncle Irv, whose idea of a waiter is an old German guy named Gus who's looked 60 for 50 years.
Here's what I think we had, reconstructing the meal a few days later:
- Amuse-bouche of a tomato-rhubarb soup. (Second soup amuse-bouche in a row, you'll note. A trend!)
--Teeny lobster salad, subtle but nice.
--A salmon terrine-- checkerboard chunks of smoked and cooked salmon in aspic-- accompanied by some ossetra caviar and little mini-bagel slices topped with things like egg or onion. It is what it is, but I really liked it. Everybody seems to be doing this kind of high-low thing, I was glad they stopped at deli food and didn't try to imitate Funyuns like Moto did.
- Chunks of raw-center tuna speared on little bits of licorice stalk (which we were encouraged to chew), accompanied by a slice of sashimi tuna topped with bitter chocolate and-- shades o' Trio-- a hint of olive flavor. I didn't like that at Trio, actually got the idea a little better here.
One of these, I forget which now, had a palate cleanser on the side of a grapefruit sorbet with candied grapefruit at the bottom which I liked a lot.
--A piece of some white fish, mori or something, on a bit of cooked peach, with balsamic dots around it. Bland, really.
--A bit of tenderloin, welcome but not dazzling, topped with a "foie gras beignet"-- and for all that liver-flavored donuts may seem an idea whose time has NOT come, that was hot, crunchy and excellent.
- Cheese course. All American, interestingly.
--Bunch of little tastes of desserts-- the best two being a blueberry and ice cream thing with really good homemade vanilla ice cream, and a pineapple cobbler or something.
Krazy KabobThe one time I took the train a long distance in the U.S., I was struck by how different things look from trains than from cars-- surprisingly, perhaps, you're often much closer to things on a train. A factory presents an official face and 100 yards of lawn to the highway, but trains run 10 feet from its back door and no one thinks to construct an image for that side.
Going up and down Lincoln all the time in the car, I see a lot of places from a distance. Today, I was on my bike, going up the riverfront trail, and I decided to take advantage of the utter lack of foot traffic due to the Labor Day weekend and illegally barrel down the sidewalk. No one would accuse Lincoln between Foster and Peterson of being a pretty part of the city, but that's precisely why I found myself fascinated by the little businesses behind tackily-modernistic 60s fronts, the cafes of multi-ethnic origin (Korean Japanese restaurants, Korean Vietnamese restaurants, even a Korean Italian restaurant, not to mention a Balkan Italian cafe which was packed at noon on an otherwise dead strip). And how many times had I seen the boat place without noticing how beautiful, really, the display of wooden oars in its window was?
Okay, that was fun, now time to eat. All the sushi places were closed, I wasn't in the mood for grilling my own Korean beef, and then I saw one of the businesses whose precise nationality was impossible to judge from outside: Krazy Kabob. Middle-eastern? Korean (it did say something about "Asian style kabobs" on the window)? Who knew?
Well, long story short: it's Korean. It's basically mall Korean without the mall, very much modeled on Panda Express and their ilk-- a plate of two grilled skewers, rice, and ginger dressing salad. (Also a few other staples like bibim bop.) You have your choice of a dozen homemade dipping sauces for your skewer. My efforts to get a recommendation of something more unusual wound up with sweet and sour sauce ("But it's not as sticky sweet as in a Chinese restaurant"-- true, I guess, but not THAT different either).
How was it? Healthy. Fresh. Not very grilled-tasted. Bland. If I still worked downtown I'd rather have this in the food court nearest to me than a Chen's. Living near better things, not sure I entirely need to go back, though it may serve its purpose one day.
G.P. Franklin's
Speaking of places to take Uncle Irv, here's where Aunt Sadie and he can treat the whole family-- a genuine slice of fake Americana, a picture-perfect recreation of a 1970s imitation-1910 ice cream parlor, down to the tin roof, tables with formica showing old ads (a la Wendy's some years back-- ours disconcertingly was for fat reduction), black and white photos on the wall, and player piano (25 cents please). (Also a very cool device that runs three ceiling fans off a single motor via belts on the ceiling.) It's like being back at the Farrell's in Towne East in Wichita, or Dr. Redbird's Medicinal Inn, where my friend Scott and I went after school nearly every day for a year or two and had a European Restorative (aka a Hoagie with chips).
Here's my "Buster Brown," chocolate ice cream with banana and pour-it-yourself hot fudge (note fat reduction text below):

I liked that the chocolate ice cream was chocolatey but not overpoweringly so, like some places where it seems more like frozen chocolate than ice cream. And how did Liam like his?

Pluton
873 N. Orleans, Chicago
Tel: (312) 266-1440
Krazy Kabob
5433 N. Lincoln Ave., Chicago
773-878-8500
GP Franklin's
4767 N. Lincoln Ave., Chicago
773-293-1900