How many times have you gone out to dinner, looked at the wine list and scoffed at the price of some of the bottles?
The life of a restaurant is not unlike a shooting star, burning brightly and then disappearing. Rare is the restaurant that is like a comet, finding its orbit with a steady glow of periodic attention.
While the discussion of Obama's restaurant was interesting, his quote about retail and restaurant interest in the South Side was more telling.
There's only one place I have found where the chicken is so perfectly seasoned and so reliably moist that I simply cannot get myself to move beyond it to try other things on the menu.
Americans have never even cracked the top ten in the Bocuse d'Or despite the increased quality of high-end American gastronomy and the numerous accolades received by the country's leading chefs. It's an anomaly Daniel Boulud and Thomas Keller have been working furiously to eliminate.
If corn is king, then chef-turned-farmer Tracey Vowell is engaged in regicide. Ever since she left Rick Bayless' Chicago restaurants Frontera Grill and Topolabompo, where she was managing chef, Vowell has been "hijacking corn, a singular act of subversion" as she puts it.
Christine Ferber's widely-used moniker, the queen of jams, hardly describes her influence on contemporary gastronomy, especially on the Chicago culinary scene.
As we sat there, in the nearly empty dining room, housed in the stately and fabulously interesting old North Western Railway power plant, I couldn't help but wonder, what is it that makes one restaurant succeed and another fail?
Just when it began to look as if cable television's top rated food show had vanished from the streets of Chicago, Top Chef is wheeling a 48-foot semi-trailer with a full kitchen to the city that hosted its fourth and most recent season.
Well, maybe when I moved here from New York City in 1974, leaving a rent stabilized apartment on Central Park South, a job with the George Lang Corporation and the best friends and life imaginable.