Chicago bar reviews

If you order the Daiquiri Tropical at Cantina Rosa—which I highly recommend doing—you may become convinced you've bitten into a fantastical mashup of a fresh peach and a passionfruit, so balanced and purposeful is each component of this magical sour. I closed my eyes mid-first sip and floated elsewhere, my feet still firmly planted inside this beautiful, Mexican-inspired Hyde Park bar from chef and restaurateur Erick Williams. The tiki-tinged cocktail menu—which legendary mixologist Paul McGee consulted on—packs numerous delights, many of them starring agave and sugarcane spirits. Consider the bright, smoke-kissed Paddle Cactus, with mezcal, tart prickly pear, chile and just enough pineapple to bring out the vegetal notes in the agave and cactus. Glancing around the room, I saw a Jushu in front of probably three-quarters of customers. This refreshing sorta margarita is a no-brainer indeed, with mezcal, floral acacia honey, lime and mango.  As I waffled between the demure Rebujito (nutty manzanilla sherry, orgeat, ginger and lime) and the daiquiri, the server plainly suggested the latter “if you like to drink.” Her candor was a balm on that particular Friday, much like this sophisticated yet inviting room, while outside the winter wind howled and democracy’s foundations shook. In that moment I could simply marvel at how the baked apple notes of the calvados and sweet citrus of the passionfruit, lime and pineapple cleverly muffled the drink’s boozy foundation of rum-like...

Crossing the threshold of Broken Hearts on a frigid Thursday night after taking a proverbial lickin’ at work, I felt my shoulders drop a few inches instantly. Despite its sprawling size and newness, the red-lit bar with exposed brick walls feels comfortable and lived in, in the vein of the city’s finest alt-country and punk rock taverns.  Then again, Heisler Hospitality (Sportsman’s Club, Lone Wolf, Queen Mary) knows its way around this decidedly Midwestern brand of bar. Broken Hearts is a smart remake of the flashier Nights & Weekends, which struggled to fill seats on weeknights. The clubby vibes also didn’t suit Heisler, as its director of operations Jeff Donahue told Eater. Better to let Chicago’s own late country-folk legend John Prine, whose song “Souvenirs” inspired the bar’s name, guide the way. (A well-placed disco ball nods to Broken Hearts’ forerunner.)  Indeed, this quiet, still vaguely industrial stretch of the West Loop beneath the rumbling “L” seemed to want for a regular bar—the kind of place that doesn’t punch customers in the face with a “concept” like so many bars do these days through a glut of twee neons and “living” walls of climbing plastic plants, while sports flash on a dozen oversized flatscreens. Sometimes you just need to scooch a barstool up to a mile-long wood bar and get lost in conversation over a cold Budweiser or an herbaceous, bittersweet draft Amaro Daiquiri with Meletti and rum (this is the West Loop, after all). To that end, there’s...

Like the first time I tried to go to the Violet Hour and walked straight past the door, I had no idea how to get into the Drifter, a new bar located underneath Green Door Tavern. But while the Violet Hour was Chicago’s first nouveau speakeasy, bar culture has changed over the past eight years—now, when a bar claims to be a speakeasy, all that means is that it’s dark, with well-made cocktails and bartenders in retro clothes. The Drifter breaks the mold, since it’s actually located in an old speakeasy space, and it’s missing the pretentious trappings a lot of cocktail bars have. In speakeasy days, people would enter a door a couple blocks away and get into the bar through a window, which has been covered over. We had to ask at Green Door how to get in, so I’ll save you the trouble: Walk through Green Door, head downstairs and enter through the wooden door that’s next to the restrooms. There’s no sign, but if the door guy isn’t there taking names for a waitlist that grows longer as the night goes on (though we walked right in at 5:30pm on a Saturday), knock and he’ll let you in. Once inside, the space is dark, cozy and full of objects that were already there when bartender Liz Pearce (Gage, Drawing Room, Aviary) took over the unused space. There are old paintings, like one of FDR that overlooks the end of the bar, a bullet-riddled Mobil sign, flags billowing from the ceiling and dozens of dusty old bottles lined up atop the bar. It’s a comfortable, low-key spot to hang out,...

There are two options when you enter John and Karen Urie Shields’ Smyth + The Loyalist. You can head upstairs to Smyth for a modern fine dining experience, complete with a prix fixe menu, or you can walk downstairs to the Loyalist, a sultry bar with upscale bites (including an amazing cheeseburger) and killer cocktails. Positioned in the West Loop, the spot is perfect for a before- or after-dinner drink, but you could also spend a whole night there. The Loyalist’s cocktail menu is the centerpiece, springing from the mind of former MFK bartender Roger Landes. The menu is well rounded, with a mix of light and spirit-forward drinks, including twists on classics and more original ideas. All the cocktails have at least one special component, such as the use of Chinato in place of Campari in the Innocents Abroad with Gentiane, creating a citrusy and bitter negroni. Likewise, the Nothing Noble combines bourbon with demerara sugar, a bit of Amargo Valet and mint for an herbal twist on a classic old-fashioned. It isn’t just the variations and balance that makes these cocktails interesting—there’s also something to be said for the presentation. Drinks come in beautiful etched glass goblets and fancy thin-walled lowballs that exude quality and attention to detail. The food works well for the space too, with primarily small plates made for sharing—a sharp contrast to the fine dining dishes served upstairs. The most notable thing on the menu is the cheeseburger, served on a sesame seed...

There’s a lovely moment in Won’t You Be My Neighbor?—the HBO documentary on the late Fred Rogers—that discusses the importance of creating quiet spaces. A peeler slowly works its way around an apple; Rogers sets an egg timer to show the actual length of a minute. It’s meant to reject the loud, crude mass media aimed at children in television’s early days, but it also echoes the overstimulation with which many of us live, work and eat now, thanks to a certain device we keep glued to our sides. But from the moment I entered Kumiko’s plant-filled foyer to a welcome cup of cinnamon chai tea, a sense of meditative calm washed over me. This Japanese-inspired cocktail bar and restaurant from Julia Momose (GreenRiver), Cara and Noah Sandoval and chef de cuisine Mariya Russell (all Oriole), is one of measured pace and care. Kumiko’s eight-seat omakase bar lends a peek into the humming kitchen through an intricately carved wood shade that acts as a focal point of the restaurant. My date and I had booked our barstools about a month in advance for the $130 omakase experience, in which Momose and her skilled team pair a series of fixed Japanese bites with sakes and bespoke cocktails. “Do you tend to go for bright and citrusy? Bitter or savory?” asked our meticulously suited bartender once we were settled. His easy warmth goaded me into oversharing beyond my cocktail preferences in the same way I sometimes psychologically unload on hospitable baristas. A progression of nigiri came...

When Grant Achatz does a cocktail bar, it should go without saying that it's no ordinary cocktail bar. At the Aviary, which opened next door to Next in 2011, cocktails receive the same innovative treatment as the food at Next or Alinea. That is to say, you should expect to drink cocktails like the Junglebird, a science experiment in liquid density, with layers of rum, campari, pineapple-lime syrup and rum "pearls" suspended in the drink. O'Doyle Rules comes with a fried banana snack on top of the rum-curry-cognac concoction, while Loaded to the Gunwalls is delivered with a single tapered candle. The drink, with pineapple, hazelnut and Batavia Arrack, is served in a glass ship in a bottle. You've never seen a drink like it, and given how rare a visit to the Aviary is, you may never again.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the Cheers theme song and the idea of a place “where everybody knows your name.” The thing is, on nights when I can sneak away and splurge on a round of craft cocktails, I seek out places where no one knows my name. It’s not that I’m anti-social—more than anything, it’s about reveling in quality time with close friends. Lazy Bird, the bar in the basement of the Hoxton hotel helmed by Lee Zaremba, ticks all the right boxes for that kind of night out. The space is so dimly lit that you can barely see across the room, and seating is configured in a way that gives each party a sense of privacy—even if you are seated two feet away from the next table. And don’t plan on checking your email or Instagram feed while you’re here; the subterranean space is a black hole for cell service. Those qualities alone make Lazy Bird a solid watering hole. But when you toss in Zaremba’s pièce de résistance of a menu—a whopping 52 classic cocktails that have been refined and perfected—this place easily enters Best New Bar of 2019 territory. Just as my date and I snagged seats along the wall opposite the bar, our server presented us with a beautiful book of tipples to choose from—each accompanied by hand-drawn illustrations from Kate Dehler and bite-sized descriptions penned by Zaremba. When we asked for a second menu so that we could browse simultaneously, our server told us that there weren’t enough to go around. As soon as we ordered our first sips—an Aviation...

Bar review by Amy Cavanaugh There are, it seems, two Three Dots and a Dash. There’s the crowded, noisy Three Dots, where a DJ plays Justin Timberlake and you’re lucky to get a seat—and even if you do, someone will be elbowing you in the back as they urge their friend to “Chug! Chug! Chug!” their marigold-accented tiki drink. Then there’s the serene tiki bar, where you can sit at the raffia-decorated bar and listen to island-themed music while you eat coconut shrimp. I just can’t seem to find the second Three Dots. I’ve been to the bar on several occasions, weekdays and weekends, at 5:15pm, right after Three Dots opens, and at 11:15pm for a nightcap after dinner. No matter when I go, the bar is raucous and the music is loud. Friends swear they’ve been to Three Dots when it’s quiet and you don’t have to yell at your companions to be heard. I haven’t found that magic time yet. But it’s River North, right? And Three Dots is the hot new bar, and a Melman project at that, so of course people are going to line up in the alley, where a blue light marks the door and a bouncer with an earpiece checks IDs, right? Right. So I’m going to move on and tell you why you should pack your earplugs and just go anyway. First of all, you won’t realize how much you were missing perfectly made tiki drinks in your life until you have one here. Since Trader Vic’s closed in 2011, there hasn’t been a dedicated tiki bar in the city, and we’ve needed one. These aren’t frozen daiquiris dispensed from a...

You might as well be walking into a Wes Anderson film when you enter Estereo, where everything is tinted slightly yellow-gold and patterns—from tiled floors to detailing on the bar—make you feel like you’re on set. The all-day bar from Heisler Hospitality (Pub Royale, Sportsman’s Club, Trenchermen, Queen Mary Tavern) has a “leave your worries at the door” vibe that transports you to an island town where three old guys wearing oversized button-downs sit at the bar all day long. And you can sit all day long, too. The bar opens daily at 11am with coffee from Dark Matter and pastries like guava croissants and chocolate croissants, while afternoons offer a list of ten cocktails based on specific spirits. Drinks come from Ben Fasman (Sportsman’s Club, Big Star) and Michael Rubel (Lone Wolf, Violet Hour), with spirits like pisco, cachaca, rum, tequila and mescal dominating the menu. The menu changes regularly, with one exception: the Breezy, a highball served in a branded plastic cup (this somehow feels fun and whimsical rather than childish or gimmicky) with your choice of spirit (gin and rum are our favorites), Yerba Mate, Falernum, lime and soda. It’s built to be an easy sipper year-round—light with just enough body to pull us through the cold winter. The drinks are exceptional, but what really makes this place tick is its vibe. Music from a turntable fills the air with bright Latin-American tunes. Settle in at the large, triangle-shaped bar that dominates the space, or for a...

I can’t stop playing “Golden Teardrops,” the haunting 1953 single by Chicago doo-wop group the Flamingos. It’s beautifully arranged, the kind of nostalgic pop tune you might put on loop while crying over a lost love into a stiff drink—or three. The clandestine basement bar from Land and Sea Dept. (Parson’s Chicken & Fish, Lost Lake) named for this pared-down R&B hit is likewise stylishly moody, an ideal spot for a cozy nightcap. Where I felt doo-wop’s influence most, however, was in barman Paul McGee’s eight minimalist riffs on classic cocktails. My two dates and I began the evening wolfing down tacos at airy, Tex-Mex sister spot Lonesome Rose—highly recommended, as Golden Teardrops traffics in high-proof sips but no food. We headed back outside into the alley and down the building’s back steps, where a small black sign assured us we were in the right place. Once inside, this low-ceilinged 40-seater wraps you in the snug semi-darkness of an old Brooklyn cocktail bar, thanks to black walls, vintage gold-vein mirror tile and lighting that consists mostly of votive candles and a jarring neon sign that reads “Weddings & Funerals.” This last photogenic detail—which I’m told nods to the two life occasions that bring friends and family together to seriously drink—buoys the vibe with prevailingly twee dark humor. We nabbed an alcoved table opposite the L-shaped mahogany bar, where I bellied up to order each round (there are no roving servers here). Dual letter boards display the...

If you order the Daiquiri Tropical at Cantina Rosa—which I highly recommend doing—you may become convinced you've bitten into a fantastical mashup of a fresh peach and a passionfruit, so balanced and purposeful is each component of this magical sour. I closed my eyes mid-first sip and floated elsewhere, my feet still firmly planted inside this beautiful, Mexican-inspired Hyde Park bar from chef and restaurateur Erick Williams. The tiki-tinged cocktail menu—which legendary mixologist Paul McGee consulted on—packs numerous delights, many of them starring agave and sugarcane spirits. Consider the bright, smoke-kissed Paddle Cactus, with mezcal, tart prickly pear, chile and just enough pineapple to bring out the vegetal notes in the agave and cactus. Glancing around the room, I saw a Jushu in front of probably three-quarters of customers. This refreshing sorta margarita is a no-brainer indeed, with mezcal, floral acacia honey, lime and mango.  As I waffled between the demure Rebujito (nutty manzanilla sherry, orgeat, ginger and lime) and the daiquiri, the server plainly suggested the latter “if you like to drink.” Her candor was a balm on that particular Friday, much like this sophisticated yet inviting room, while outside the winter wind howled and democracy’s foundations shook. In that moment I could simply marvel at how the baked apple notes of the calvados and sweet citrus of the passionfruit, lime and pineapple cleverly muffled the drink’s boozy foundation of rum-like...

Crossing the threshold of Broken Hearts on a frigid Thursday night after taking a proverbial lickin’ at work, I felt my shoulders drop a few inches instantly. Despite its sprawling size and newness, the red-lit bar with exposed brick walls feels comfortable and lived in, in the vein of the city’s finest alt-country and punk rock taverns.  Then again, Heisler Hospitality (Sportsman’s Club, Lone Wolf, Queen Mary) knows its way around this decidedly Midwestern brand of bar. Broken Hearts is a smart remake of the flashier Nights & Weekends, which struggled to fill seats on weeknights. The clubby vibes also didn’t suit Heisler, as its director of operations Jeff Donahue told Eater. Better to let Chicago’s own late country-folk legend John Prine, whose song “Souvenirs” inspired the bar’s name, guide the way. (A well-placed disco ball nods to Broken Hearts’ forerunner.)  Indeed, this quiet, still vaguely industrial stretch of the West Loop beneath the rumbling “L” seemed to want for a regular bar—the kind of place that doesn’t punch customers in the face with a “concept” like so many bars do these days through a glut of twee neons and “living” walls of climbing plastic plants, while sports flash on a dozen oversized flatscreens. Sometimes you just need to scooch a barstool up to a mile-long wood bar and get lost in conversation over a cold Budweiser or an herbaceous, bittersweet draft Amaro Daiquiri with Meletti and rum (this is the West Loop, after all). To that end, there’s...

Like the first time I tried to go to the Violet Hour and walked straight past the door, I had no idea how to get into the Drifter, a new bar located underneath Green Door Tavern. But while the Violet Hour was Chicago’s first nouveau speakeasy, bar culture has changed over the past eight years—now, when a bar claims to be a speakeasy, all that means is that it’s dark, with well-made cocktails and bartenders in retro clothes. The Drifter breaks the mold, since it’s actually located in an old speakeasy space, and it’s missing the pretentious trappings a lot of cocktail bars have. In speakeasy days, people would enter a door a couple blocks away and get into the bar through a window, which has been covered over. We had to ask at Green Door how to get in, so I’ll save you the trouble: Walk through Green Door, head downstairs and enter through the wooden door that’s next to the restrooms. There’s no sign, but if the door guy isn’t there taking names for a waitlist that grows longer as the night goes on (though we walked right in at 5:30pm on a Saturday), knock and he’ll let you in. Once inside, the space is dark, cozy and full of objects that were already there when bartender Liz Pearce (Gage, Drawing Room, Aviary) took over the unused space. There are old paintings, like one of FDR that overlooks the end of the bar, a bullet-riddled Mobil sign, flags billowing from the ceiling and dozens of dusty old bottles lined up atop the bar. It’s a comfortable, low-key spot to hang out,...

There are two options when you enter John and Karen Urie Shields’ Smyth + The Loyalist. You can head upstairs to Smyth for a modern fine dining experience, complete with a prix fixe menu, or you can walk downstairs to the Loyalist, a sultry bar with upscale bites (including an amazing cheeseburger) and killer cocktails. Positioned in the West Loop, the spot is perfect for a before- or after-dinner drink, but you could also spend a whole night there. The Loyalist’s cocktail menu is the centerpiece, springing from the mind of former MFK bartender Roger Landes. The menu is well rounded, with a mix of light and spirit-forward drinks, including twists on classics and more original ideas. All the cocktails have at least one special component, such as the use of Chinato in place of Campari in the Innocents Abroad with Gentiane, creating a citrusy and bitter negroni. Likewise, the Nothing Noble combines bourbon with demerara sugar, a bit of Amargo Valet and mint for an herbal twist on a classic old-fashioned. It isn’t just the variations and balance that makes these cocktails interesting—there’s also something to be said for the presentation. Drinks come in beautiful etched glass goblets and fancy thin-walled lowballs that exude quality and attention to detail. The food works well for the space too, with primarily small plates made for sharing—a sharp contrast to the fine dining dishes served upstairs. The most notable thing on the menu is the cheeseburger, served on a sesame seed...

When Grant Achatz does a cocktail bar, it should go without saying that it's no ordinary cocktail bar. At the Aviary, which opened next door to Next in 2011, cocktails receive the same innovative treatment as the food at Next or Alinea. That is to say, you should expect to drink cocktails like the Junglebird, a science experiment in liquid density, with layers of rum, campari, pineapple-lime syrup and rum "pearls" suspended in the drink. O'Doyle Rules comes with a fried banana snack on top of the rum-curry-cognac concoction, while Loaded to the Gunwalls is delivered with a single tapered candle. The drink, with pineapple, hazelnut and Batavia Arrack, is served in a glass ship in a bottle. You've never seen a drink like it, and given how rare a visit to the Aviary is, you may never again.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the Cheers theme song and the idea of a place “where everybody knows your name.” The thing is, on nights when I can sneak away and splurge on a round of craft cocktails, I seek out places where no one knows my name. It’s not that I’m anti-social—more than anything, it’s about reveling in quality time with close friends. Lazy Bird, the bar in the basement of the Hoxton hotel helmed by Lee Zaremba, ticks all the right boxes for that kind of night out. The space is so dimly lit that you can barely see across the room, and seating is configured in a way that gives each party a sense of privacy—even if you are seated two feet away from the next table. And don’t plan on checking your email or Instagram feed while you’re here; the subterranean space is a black hole for cell service. Those qualities alone make Lazy Bird a solid watering hole. But when you toss in Zaremba’s pièce de résistance of a menu—a whopping 52 classic cocktails that have been refined and perfected—this place easily enters Best New Bar of 2019 territory. Just as my date and I snagged seats along the wall opposite the bar, our server presented us with a beautiful book of tipples to choose from—each accompanied by hand-drawn illustrations from Kate Dehler and bite-sized descriptions penned by Zaremba. When we asked for a second menu so that we could browse simultaneously, our server told us that there weren’t enough to go around. As soon as we ordered our first sips—an Aviation...

There’s a lovely moment in Won’t You Be My Neighbor?—the HBO documentary on the late Fred Rogers—that discusses the importance of creating quiet spaces. A peeler slowly works its way around an apple; Rogers sets an egg timer to show the actual length of a minute. It’s meant to reject the loud, crude mass media aimed at children in television’s early days, but it also echoes the overstimulation with which many of us live, work and eat now, thanks to a certain device we keep glued to our sides. But from the moment I entered Kumiko’s plant-filled foyer to a welcome cup of cinnamon chai tea, a sense of meditative calm washed over me. This Japanese-inspired cocktail bar and restaurant from Julia Momose (GreenRiver), Cara and Noah Sandoval and chef de cuisine Mariya Russell (all Oriole), is one of measured pace and care. Kumiko’s eight-seat omakase bar lends a peek into the humming kitchen through an intricately carved wood shade that acts as a focal point of the restaurant. My date and I had booked our barstools about a month in advance for the $130 omakase experience, in which Momose and her skilled team pair a series of fixed Japanese bites with sakes and bespoke cocktails. “Do you tend to go for bright and citrusy? Bitter or savory?” asked our meticulously suited bartender once we were settled. His easy warmth goaded me into oversharing beyond my cocktail preferences in the same way I sometimes psychologically unload on hospitable baristas. A progression of nigiri came...

You might as well be walking into a Wes Anderson film when you enter Estereo, where everything is tinted slightly yellow-gold and patterns—from tiled floors to detailing on the bar—make you feel like you’re on set. The all-day bar from Heisler Hospitality (Pub Royale, Sportsman’s Club, Trenchermen, Queen Mary Tavern) has a “leave your worries at the door” vibe that transports you to an island town where three old guys wearing oversized button-downs sit at the bar all day long. And you can sit all day long, too. The bar opens daily at 11am with coffee from Dark Matter and pastries like guava croissants and chocolate croissants, while afternoons offer a list of ten cocktails based on specific spirits. Drinks come from Ben Fasman (Sportsman’s Club, Big Star) and Michael Rubel (Lone Wolf, Violet Hour), with spirits like pisco, cachaca, rum, tequila and mescal dominating the menu. The menu changes regularly, with one exception: the Breezy, a highball served in a branded plastic cup (this somehow feels fun and whimsical rather than childish or gimmicky) with your choice of spirit (gin and rum are our favorites), Yerba Mate, Falernum, lime and soda. It’s built to be an easy sipper year-round—light with just enough body to pull us through the cold winter. The drinks are exceptional, but what really makes this place tick is its vibe. Music from a turntable fills the air with bright Latin-American tunes. Settle in at the large, triangle-shaped bar that dominates the space, or for a...

Bar review by Amy Cavanaugh There are, it seems, two Three Dots and a Dash. There’s the crowded, noisy Three Dots, where a DJ plays Justin Timberlake and you’re lucky to get a seat—and even if you do, someone will be elbowing you in the back as they urge their friend to “Chug! Chug! Chug!” their marigold-accented tiki drink. Then there’s the serene tiki bar, where you can sit at the raffia-decorated bar and listen to island-themed music while you eat coconut shrimp. I just can’t seem to find the second Three Dots. I’ve been to the bar on several occasions, weekdays and weekends, at 5:15pm, right after Three Dots opens, and at 11:15pm for a nightcap after dinner. No matter when I go, the bar is raucous and the music is loud. Friends swear they’ve been to Three Dots when it’s quiet and you don’t have to yell at your companions to be heard. I haven’t found that magic time yet. But it’s River North, right? And Three Dots is the hot new bar, and a Melman project at that, so of course people are going to line up in the alley, where a blue light marks the door and a bouncer with an earpiece checks IDs, right? Right. So I’m going to move on and tell you why you should pack your earplugs and just go anyway. First of all, you won’t realize how much you were missing perfectly made tiki drinks in your life until you have one here. Since Trader Vic’s closed in 2011, there hasn’t been a dedicated tiki bar in the city, and we’ve needed one. These aren’t frozen daiquiris dispensed from a...

I can’t stop playing “Golden Teardrops,” the haunting 1953 single by Chicago doo-wop group the Flamingos. It’s beautifully arranged, the kind of nostalgic pop tune you might put on loop while crying over a lost love into a stiff drink—or three. The clandestine basement bar from Land and Sea Dept. (Parson’s Chicken & Fish, Lost Lake) named for this pared-down R&B hit is likewise stylishly moody, an ideal spot for a cozy nightcap. Where I felt doo-wop’s influence most, however, was in barman Paul McGee’s eight minimalist riffs on classic cocktails. My two dates and I began the evening wolfing down tacos at airy, Tex-Mex sister spot Lonesome Rose—highly recommended, as Golden Teardrops traffics in high-proof sips but no food. We headed back outside into the alley and down the building’s back steps, where a small black sign assured us we were in the right place. Once inside, this low-ceilinged 40-seater wraps you in the snug semi-darkness of an old Brooklyn cocktail bar, thanks to black walls, vintage gold-vein mirror tile and lighting that consists mostly of votive candles and a jarring neon sign that reads “Weddings & Funerals.” This last photogenic detail—which I’m told nods to the two life occasions that bring friends and family together to seriously drink—buoys the vibe with prevailingly twee dark humor. We nabbed an alcoved table opposite the L-shaped mahogany bar, where I bellied up to order each round (there are no roving servers here). Dual letter boards display the...