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2512 North Main Street
(just south of Woodlawn)
New upscale restaurants often pretend to be more glamourous than they really are. They strive for that delicate balancing point between snobbish exclusiveness and welcoming inclusiveness. This little bistro hits the mark, or at least very close to it. It's in an attractive small strip-center that was built when Monte Vista was near the edge of town. The windows are tinted so dark that, from the outside, it looks to be closed; only the "open" sign indicates otherwise. The room is small, probably not ten tables, with three or four more on the side patio. The decor tends toward minimalist, except for a rack of shelves toward the back of the room with a clutter of objets and a sign with a glib saying. Lights are kept at a level that exudes discretion and comfort, and allows for the suggestion of romance. A copy of the New York Times lies folded on the bar, in case you can't tell what kind of ambience they're aiming at. It all works.
We came without a reservation, because we couldn't remember the name of the place and a few cursory searches for restaurants in the area didn't bring it up; so we took our chances. There were several empty tables, one of them set for a party of four, the others clear; but the man who greeted us cheerfully at the door apologetically offered us seats at the bar, which we accepted. The bar is a semicircle of copper tones and high-end bottles, with about eight comfortable stools lining it. (My wife wondered, at the end of the evening, if we'd been too quick to accept his seating suggestion, since not a one of the other, presumably reserved tables was called into service while we were there.) We were given glasses of ice water, menus, and a wine list.
The menu, I reckon, changes often, because it's printed on simple yet elegant card stock. The computer used to produce it has no capacity for capital letters and lacks a dollar sign. Slashes are used where the word "and" belongs, as if the character's actual meaning was irrelevant. (Does the roast chicken come with either lemon jus or honey jus? Surely not.) (The pedant in me required that little hissy fit.) Or perhaps these are just affectations that, in the mind of the writer, make everything feel classy. Well, all these fatuous fashionable departures from custom and meaning still make my eyes roll, but silently; and since I'm writing a review I feel obliged to mention what I would not point out were I engaged in polite conversation. And further, though they are irksome, they are trivial things, on a par with a presidential tweet, but with more substance, if less moment.
More important is the content of the menu. Everything is à la carte. The carte offers half a dozen interesting-sounding appetizers, ranging from buttermilk cornbread to polenta-crusted pimento cheese; half a dozen main dishes covering a full range: vegetarian, poultry, beef, fish, pork. (I'm honestly surprised, and a little disappointed, that there was no wild game meat offered. I understand wild boar is quite fashionable these days, as is eating local; I hear there are lots of wild pigs running around just outside Loop 410.) And a handful of side-dishes: one particularly downscale-upscale green vegetable, mashed sweet potatoes, and two preparations of peas, with descriptions that will send you to Wikipedia to find out what all is in 'em. None of this is surprising, once you know that the mind behind Periphery is that of Mark Weaver, the former chef at Tre Trattoria, a really good place on Broadway that I haven't been to in years. I assume it's still there, and that its offerings have suffered from Chef Weaver's departure.
None of the items on the brief menu appealed to me; I won't bother going through my reasons, as none of them are likely to apply to you, reader. Indeed, they're unlikely to apply to me, should I ever go back to this restaurant. Let's just say I wasn't in the mood for anything on the menu. (I will say that I wasn't really up for going here for dinner in the first place, but my wife had suggested trying it several times since it opened a little over a year ago, so I pretty much had to go. I try to factor that in to my evaluation.) After going back and forth in my mind, I decided I didn't really want anything. Neither did I want to sit there with nothing while my wife ate (she ordered smoked pork meatballs), so I ordered an appetizer of polenta-crusted pimento cheese with bacon jam.
I will say this: Periphery does polenta much better than I do. (Still, my grandmother did it better. I suppose every Italian grandmother did, at least to those who dined at her table.) This had a good, slightly crispy texture but was edged with a burned flavour that I didn't care for. Worse, the combination of flavours -- that burned taste of the polenta, the glass-jar childhood memory of pimento cheese, and the odd sweetness of bacon jam (!) -- produced an overall taste that, frankly, I found unpleasant. This is a risk of so-called New American cooking, I suppose, the combining of ingredients in new and imaginative ways to create what is hopefully a novel and successful experience. This example, to my taste, failed at that, and though I applaud the idea, the attractive presentation, and the effort that went into thinking it up and getting it made, I sent it back.
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| Last city inspection, Jan '18: 99/100 |
I have a similar problem with the meatballs that my wife ordered. They were carefully presented, in a pond of ... ahem ... green-tomato sauce called marinara, sprinkled with queso fresco. (According to the menu, it was also served with "calabrese." "Calabrese" is a person from Calabria, and though the sauce was the colour of Soylent Green, I doubt that there was people-meat in it. I'm betting they used a second, southern-Italian style cheese but didn't want to just come out and say it. Eyes a-rolling again.) The meat was tender, flavourful and fully cooked, but the combination of flavours, again, I found jarring. Just a taste was enough.
The prices were about what you'd expect in this type of bistro. Two people can expect to pay around a hundred and ten dollars for a meal here, with a couple of glasses of wine. If you like the food (and by the way, I wasn't charged for the polenta), it's not a bad price.
