Okay, so I have to give Travel & Leisure the credit here. In their latest issue, they had the 50 best new US restaurants, and Perennial in Chicago was on that list. I'm so glad I took their advice.
They were incredibly accommodating, expanding our table of two to a four top so that my friend Chris' husband could join us for dessert, which is always a good sign. The place had a fresh look with an attractive layout that emphasized curves, leaving it with a softer, cozier look.
Our server was pretty good-looking, which always helps with the atmosphere. And since it had been such a long while since seeing my good friend, Chris, I wasn't paying as much attention to the food as I typically might. But impressionable the food was, so it's saying much that the flavors cut through the conversation and linger even now as I write this several days later.
We started with the Meyer Lemon Risotto, and Portabello Carpaccio Salad. Both were stellar. The risotto was wonderfully creamy and perfectly al dente with the rich parmesan cheese cut with the freshness of the lemon infused throughout. The salad was topped with a simple balsamic vinaigrette dressing that successfully brought all the elements together, including the poached garlic that was minced and sprinkled on top. Delicious.
I ordered the pork belly, and Chris ordered the sea scallops, which is their signature dish. Now, as you probably know by now, I talk about David Chang's pork belly in NYC a lot and have set that as the standard by which I evaluate all other pork belly. Thus far, I continue to try it across the country, and I continue to be disappointed. This time, the texture was far closer to my stated perfection than I had ever tasted. The pork belly was incredibly tender, and the fattiness literally melted in my mouth to create a full and luxurious mouthfeel. Yay! It was set atop a parsnip puree and mustard spaetzle on the side. I did like the combination of the elements together, but alone, the parsnip puree and spaetzle was rather flat. Then again, they performed their roles as accompaniment nicely.
Chris' sea scallops were perfectly seared, leaving the plump little guys moist and tender. It was set upon sauteed wild mushrooms and a tarragon sabayon. Sabayon - a light, creamy sauce made from egg yolk. The fusion of everything was really great, but my favorite? The braised short rib canneloni on the side. Yum!!! I love braised short rib. It just makes me so happy. That on its own almost coerced me into ordering that dish. But alas, the pork belly was calling my name.
So here's my only complaint. The table is set atop an ornate column that flares at the bottom. Too much flair. There's no room for your feet! I mean, really, it's beautiful and everything, but requires too much shifting and working around. That said, if that's the only complaint, yes - it's pretty good.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
Da Mimmo - Baltimore
Several months ago, Eric and I were in Baltimore, meeting friends for dinner. We got there with hours to go, and hadn't had lunch, so we were left in a hunger purgatory, where eating a full meal at that point would have ruined dinner later, but waiting until dinner might mean fainting in the middle of Barnes & Noble from low blood sugar. So as we wandered through Little Italy, we happened upon a place called Da Mimmo. We walked into the dimly lit restaurant that forked into the bar on the left, the dining room on the right. We were the only ones there, and it took a minute to find a live soul. Then again, we almost left because on a day that was sunny and beautiful, I could hardly think of staying in a place that would close off all the brightness and leave me in darkness.
"We're looking for a snack right now, really," we said. The maitre'd smiled and was more than willing to seat us. What to get? We looked at the menu, and everything was appealing. The maitre'd said, "If I may recommend something, the Spaghetti alla Campania is delicious, and I could split the plate for you."
"Yeah, but there's no meat in it, and I really like to have some kind of saturated fat with every meal," I said, in so many words.
"You won't be disappointed," he said, and then it was done.
The dish came, searing hot, with a vegetable ragu of grape tomatoes, zucchini, eggplant, onions, mushrooms, and possibly some other vegetables, laying on a bed of Spaghetti al dente. I'm sure it was a very simple recipe - there wasn't great complexity, and yet, it was, perhaps, the best pasta I had ever had. Truly. Really. I hardly noticed there wasn't any meat, because I was in love with eating the dish exactly the way it was.
We vowed we would be back.
This past Friday, we picked up my mom from the Baltimore airport, and we headed straight to Da Mimmo for a full Italian meal. We were seated by an open window on the second floor, where we could glimpse the waning sun and catch a cool breeze. The servers at Da Mimmo really want you to relax. They don't even give you the menu until you ask for it. At first, I thought they were being neglectful. I mean, come on, we're at a restaurant for goodness sakes, can we have the menu? Then I caught myself. Rare is a restaurant that doesn't try to push you out the door as soon as you were seated in order to increase turnover and sales. At that very moment, I started to relax.
We all ordered something from their very extensive specials menu. Osso Buco served with risotto, Veal with a black truffle sauce, and Chilean Sea Bass on Penne with Puttanesca sauce. All this only after our appetizer of what else? Spaghetti alla Campania. Oh, and some of the most stellar garlic bread I've ever had. 1,000 calories each slice, I'm sure, but eaten in moderation? Gosh, it's worth it...
The Chilean Sea Bass was delicate and perfectly cooked. The tang from the capers and olives of the puttanesca sauce was inspiring, but this dish was not my favorite of the night.
The Veal in black truffle sauce was tender, and the sauce reminded me of an Asian fermented black bean sauce - a savoriness where a little goes a long way. It didn't come with a starch or any substantial vegetables to speak of, which would have greatly leveraged a very special truffle sauce, or at the very least, helped to cut the saltiness. Still, not the favorite.
Lastly, the Osso Buco. An incredibly generous portion of bone-in veal braised in a sumptuous sauce that laid on delicious risotto. I can't remember all the details, I'll just have to refamiliarize myself with the leftovers in the fridge. But this. This was the star of the night. So why do I have so little to say? Because there was a harmonious fusion of sorts, when all the ingredients come together and just meld. It's at that point that I just don't care what all the elements are. I just know they taste good together.
We left hundreds of dollars poorer, but happy. Sometimes, it's worth it.
"We're looking for a snack right now, really," we said. The maitre'd smiled and was more than willing to seat us. What to get? We looked at the menu, and everything was appealing. The maitre'd said, "If I may recommend something, the Spaghetti alla Campania is delicious, and I could split the plate for you."
"Yeah, but there's no meat in it, and I really like to have some kind of saturated fat with every meal," I said, in so many words.
"You won't be disappointed," he said, and then it was done.
The dish came, searing hot, with a vegetable ragu of grape tomatoes, zucchini, eggplant, onions, mushrooms, and possibly some other vegetables, laying on a bed of Spaghetti al dente. I'm sure it was a very simple recipe - there wasn't great complexity, and yet, it was, perhaps, the best pasta I had ever had. Truly. Really. I hardly noticed there wasn't any meat, because I was in love with eating the dish exactly the way it was.
We vowed we would be back.
This past Friday, we picked up my mom from the Baltimore airport, and we headed straight to Da Mimmo for a full Italian meal. We were seated by an open window on the second floor, where we could glimpse the waning sun and catch a cool breeze. The servers at Da Mimmo really want you to relax. They don't even give you the menu until you ask for it. At first, I thought they were being neglectful. I mean, come on, we're at a restaurant for goodness sakes, can we have the menu? Then I caught myself. Rare is a restaurant that doesn't try to push you out the door as soon as you were seated in order to increase turnover and sales. At that very moment, I started to relax.
We all ordered something from their very extensive specials menu. Osso Buco served with risotto, Veal with a black truffle sauce, and Chilean Sea Bass on Penne with Puttanesca sauce. All this only after our appetizer of what else? Spaghetti alla Campania. Oh, and some of the most stellar garlic bread I've ever had. 1,000 calories each slice, I'm sure, but eaten in moderation? Gosh, it's worth it...
The Chilean Sea Bass was delicate and perfectly cooked. The tang from the capers and olives of the puttanesca sauce was inspiring, but this dish was not my favorite of the night.
The Veal in black truffle sauce was tender, and the sauce reminded me of an Asian fermented black bean sauce - a savoriness where a little goes a long way. It didn't come with a starch or any substantial vegetables to speak of, which would have greatly leveraged a very special truffle sauce, or at the very least, helped to cut the saltiness. Still, not the favorite.
Lastly, the Osso Buco. An incredibly generous portion of bone-in veal braised in a sumptuous sauce that laid on delicious risotto. I can't remember all the details, I'll just have to refamiliarize myself with the leftovers in the fridge. But this. This was the star of the night. So why do I have so little to say? Because there was a harmonious fusion of sorts, when all the ingredients come together and just meld. It's at that point that I just don't care what all the elements are. I just know they taste good together.
We left hundreds of dollars poorer, but happy. Sometimes, it's worth it.
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