Maggie Hennessy

December 2024: On our latest roundup of the city's best eateries, we're welcoming Korean-American steakhouse Perilla, new listening bar Parachute HiFi and Mexican-Indian extraordinaire Mirra. They join our growing list of favorite restaurants that should be on everyone's radar, whether you're new to the city or a lifelong Chicagoan. The best restaurants in Chicago come in all shapes and sizes, from pizza joints and Michelin-starred heavyweights to some of the best cheap eats Chicago has to offer. The cuisines are just as varied, with every corner of the globe represented through Korean, Mexican, Italian, Mediterranean and Japanese fare—and much more. Whether you're a lifelong resident or simply visiting for the weekend, stuffing your face at one of these restaurants is easily among the best things to do in Chicago. This belt-busting food scene shows no signs of slowing down, so we cut to the chase and ranked our essentials—the absolute best restaurants in town. Our editors scour the city for great dishes, excellent value and insider info. We hope to provide an authentic snapshot of Chicago's ever-evolving dining experiences by updating this list constantly with the best new restaurants in the city as well as decades-old stalwarts that keep us coming back for more. It could be a mega-hyped destination restaurant or a remarkable hole in the wall: If it’s on the list, we think it’s terrific, and we bet you will, too.

No matter what you’re in the mood for, few neighborhoods offer as many options as West Loop. Home to Time Out Market Chicago and some of the best restaurants in Chicago, the bustling area is packed with everything from omakase concepts to Michelin-starred fine dining destinations. Whether you’re dining in the section of Randolph Street known as “Restaurant Row” or venturing a bit further north to the former warehouse district Fulton Market, there’s a variety of beloved institutions to check out. So consult our guide to the best West Loop restaurants, make a reservation (as tables are always in demand) and get ready to taste the most delicious foods Chicago has to offer. RECOMMENDED: Discover the best bars in West Loop

Home to the Bulls, Blackhawks and a wide range of shows, the United Center is a popular venue year round. And thanks to its close proximity to the best restaurants and bars in West Loop, there are plenty of places to fuel up before going to an event. The following spots are either convenient, quick or simply just excellent—all qualities we can appreciate when there are post-meal festivities to attend. If you want a burger, the Loyalist or Billy Goat Tavern are sure to hit the spot. Have some time to spare? Grill your own meat-filled feast at Gyu-Kaku Japanese BBQ. Heck, there’s even a Wisconsin-inspired supper club inside the stadium for those who don’t want to stray far. Regardless of what you’re craving, check out our guide to the best spots around the United Center so you don’t have to settle for run-of-the-mill concession foods the next time you’re there. RECOMMENDED: Our complete guide to the best restaurants in Chicago

When the weather outside turns unbearably cold, there’s no better way to warm the belly—or the soul—than with a comforting cup of soup. Chicago’s restaurants offer a diverse range of options, including lemony avgolemono, steaming bowls of pho and plain old fashioned chicken noodle soup. These flavorful broths are made with TLC and come loaded with fresh seafood, grilled steak, huge matzo balls and much more. And you’ll find them all over the city, from Uptown to Chinatown. So whether you’re feeling under the weather or just want to heat your body up, check out our guide to the best soups in Chicago. RECOMMENDED: Discover the best ramen in Chicago

Initially, I called on the women behind these seven extraordinary restaurants a little sheepishly. Do we really need one more tokenizing roundup of “badass” female restaurant owners and chefs, when many elbowed their way to the table with the sole aim of being judged on their abilities, without asterisks or qualifiers? But as the conversations unfolded, I forgot about that and instead basked in the weight of their achievements—sometimes because or in spite of their gender, though just as often not. I saw the intentional and unforeseen ways being women—and mothers—informs running a business and impacts workplace culture. I absorbed the parallel journeys of Chicanas like Dominica Rice-Cisneros and Black women like Mashama Bailey to internalize the significance of their culinary heritages in an industry that long prized Eurocentric haute cuisine. As Monteverde executive chef-owner Sarah Grueneberg mused: “For so long, [co-owner] Meg [Sahs] and I weren’t really shouting about being a women-run restaurant—we were fighting that ‘cute’ stigma and wanted to just be considered real business leaders and restaurateurs. But I’m so proud. I wouldn't be the same chef if I was male—how I cook and how I think about the history and heart of a dish.” Many of these women arrived on the shoulders of women mentors before them, be they Chez Panisse’s Alice Waters or Ruth Rogers and the late Rose Gray of London’s legendary River Cafe or the matriarchs of their home kitchens. Seeing someone like the

Before recreational weed was legalized in Chicago earlier this year, the only edibles we could get our hands on were dodgy pot brownies and stale rice krispies treats with an unsavory, hempy aftertaste. While the rest of us muddled through off-market treats, award-winning Chicago pastry chef Mindy Segal was concocting a line of edibles that would raise the bar. In partnership with local cannabis company Cresco Labs, her dream manifested into Mindy’s Chef Led Artisanal Edibles, a line of THC-infused gummies, hard sweets, chocolates and fruit chews. Rather than invent in a sterile laboratory stocked with flavor extracts, Segal invited the Cresco team to her storied Bucktown restaurant, Mindy’s HotChocolate, where they sat around the time-worn communal table and embarked on a Willy Wonka-style tasting of her favorite desserts, from kiwi-tinged key-lime cheesecake and chocolate-peanut butter brittle to macerated melon sorbet. Eventually, 20 flavors dwindled to six, which the group workshopped into their final gummy forms, featuring a flavorless cannabis distillate and low (5mg) and micro (2mg) doses of THC and CBD—meaning you don’t have to divvy them into 12 pieces, or pop one and pray. “I wanted Cresco to really understand where each flavor comes from, how it began and how my flavor journey happens,” Segal says. “I’m so, so proud of what we created.” Seated at the same table where it all began, I too took the flavor journey through the beloved desserts that inspired these one-of

The unmistakable aroma of toasty, buttered caramel hits your nostrils on certain Chicago streets—rounding the corner at Ontario and Michigan in Streeterville or emerging from the Blue Line station at Jackson and Dearborn in the Loop. Most locals can promptly identify the intoxicating scent as CaramelCrisp, the flagship flavor of Garrett Popcorn Shops, the beloved confectionary chain that opened in Chicago 70 years ago. Today Garrett is a bonafide popcorn empire, with locations in Atlanta, Las Vegas, Tokyo, Korea, Hong Kong, the United Arab Emirates, Singapore and Malaysia. But to most Chicagoans, the brand is still intrinsically local—the sort of delicacy we proudly tout to out-of-towners. “We make it the exact same way,” says director of consumer engagement Megan Chody, who, with CEO and husband Lance Chody, bought the brand from the Garrett family 13 years ago. “Nothing has changed, and it will not change.” Whenever she’s in one of the brand’s 48 shops, Chody greets customers as they walk through the door, whether they’re from Toronto, Macedonia, Tokyo, Madrid or the Chicago suburbs. As soon as I leave the Michigan Avenue flagship store that day, she’ll host a delegation from China. “What made you come in today?” she asks a man from Charlotte, North Carolina. “This is my first time in Chicago,” he replies. “I was told I had to come here.” Sweet beginnings Garrett opened in the Loop in 1949, but the recipe that launched the brand was born in Milwaukee—the result of a family

We’re officially stuffed. Throughout 2018, we sampled our way through some of Chicago’s best restaurants—both newcomers and mainstays—to hunt down knockout dishes and drinks that left us feeling inspired. We ended up with a collection of menu items that is as diverse as the city itself, from lobster dumplings and vegetarian sushi to a surprisingly awesome apple martini and a stack of lemon-blueberry pancakes. Better yet: Most of the dishes and drinks on this year's list ring up under $15. Check out the amazing morsels and tipples that top this year's list and plan your upcoming dining adventures accordingly.

Call us gluttonous, but we'd never pass on dessert. There's something special about capping off a scrumptious meal with a sweet treat—even when we're nearing food-coma territory. Chicago's best pastry chefs whipped up pies, cakes, brownies and tarts that delighted our senses in 2017. But these are a few of the most decadent bites we got our hands (and mouths) on this year. RECOMMENDED: 100 best dishes and drinks 2017

This year, Chicago chefs showed off their skills through a slew of diverse dishes. From January to December, we noshed on pizza, noodles, tamales, tacos and so much more. Along the way, we found some truly spectacular entrees that wowed us. Take a look at the plates that kept us coming back for more in 2017.  RECOMMENDED: The 100 best dishes and drinks in Chicago

We'd argue that appetizers and sides are crucial elements of the quintessential Chicago meal. Ordering small allows diners to order more—something we'll always support. This year, we loved that chefs played around with their deep fryers, creating oil-dappled green tomatoes, massive onion rings and the best fried pickles we've ever had. Don't worry—we tossed in a few healthy-ish options, too. Take a look at the top sides and apps we tasted this year. RECOMMENDED: The 100 best dishes and drinks in Chicago

AJ Walker, the former sous chef of the Publican, moved down the street last year to hone his butchery craft as chef de cuisine of sister butcher shop/café Publican Quality Meats. When he’s not behind the butcher block, you’ll often find him outside with a daiquiri or (after a particularly long shift) a shot and a beer. We checked in with him to find out his top picks for eating al fresco, spots for new and classic Chicago dining, plus a few tips on what to grill this summer. Favorite patio spots: When Walker is off the clock, you’re likely to find him at Costa Rican BYOB favorite Irazú in Bucktown. Other favorite al fresco picks include Parson’s Chicken & Fish in Logan Square for fried fish and fowl and outdoor ping-pong; Matchbox in West Town for the margarita with powdered-sugar rim; and La Sirena Clandestina for Latin American eats and stiff drinks.  Trying something new: Walker suggests hitting up Pub Royale for inspiring bar food done at a high level. In the mood for old-school: Shaw’s Crab House, River North. “It hasn’t changed in 30 years,” Walker says. The chef loves the restaurant’s stalwart dishes, from massive seafood towers and classic Caesar salad to king crab legs with a side of creamed spinach and hash browns. Grilling tips: Walker’s current favorite grilling cuts are beef flap steak and pork coppa, which both benefit from hot, fast cooking, he says. “Flap steak is good as is—salt, pepper and maybe porcini powder to add a little depth,” while a pork coppa chop

Our first attempt to dine at Parachute HiFi, the casual, no-reservations remake of the James Beard Award-winning Korean restaurant, was thwarted by a formidable, if good natured, line that stretched out the door onto Elston Avenue, where a chilly wind howled.  “Actually, this is the line to put your name in,” someone told me, as I ’scused my way through the disco-lit entryway toward the host stand. Instead, my starved companions and I begged off down the street to Anelya, the terrific Ukrainian restaurant owned by the same couple, chefs Johnny Clark and Beverly Kim, where a few bar seats still remained after 6pm on a Saturday.  We showed up much earlier on our second, successful, attempt, around 5:30pm, on a Wednesday. Suffice to say, you’ll want to arrive early if you’d rather not wait at Parachute HiFi, which is proving to be as popular as its predecessor. Then again, to experience this Tokyo-style listening bar as intended, you’re better off braving the wait at a later hour—then immersing yourself in the din, served with refreshingly informal drinking food and quirky cocktails. A bracing Greek Salad Martini with cucumber feta vodka and vermouth tasted less like its namesake than a pleasantly sweet and balanced take on the pickle martinis cropping up everywhere. The Pickled Ginger recalled a tiki-flavored Dark ’n Stormy. Prickly, sweet Milkis (the creamy Korean soft drink), caramelly dark rum and warming turmeric mellowed the clean, bright one-two punch of ginger and lime. 

My inner child protested the first couple bites of Spaghetti Uh-O’s in vodka sauce, the delightful reimagining of Campbell's canned pasta rings, at Void, the cheffy Italian-American newcomer in Avondale.  “These anelli pasta are al dente, not mushy and waterlogged!” she objected. “The tomato sauce tastes rich, tangy and complexly sweet, not like tinny V8 juice! And these luscious little meatballs taste homemade, not like feedlot beef and filler!” The dish itself is comforting and familiar, deep with the long, slow caramelized flavors good chefs coax out best—making this an especially delicious trick to play on our nostalgic palates. No wonder I’ve watched more Spaghetti Uh-O’s leave the kitchen than any other dish each time I’ve eaten here, and that servers seem to genuinely relish the tableside flourish of emptying the Void-branded can into a bowl and showering the pasta with ground Parmesan. It’s giddy fun but not gimmicky, encapsulating what I already love about this easygoing neighborhood restaurant.  Owners and friends Tyler Hudec, Dani Kaplan and Pat Ray have been in the restaurant and bar industry for 15 years; they met while working at Analogue, which closed in 2016. The trio opened Void (named for the absence of preconceptions—and maybe the only thing I don’t like about Void) in August in the bygone Moe’s Tavern. They used the bar’s old bones to their advantage since the restaurant—low lit and dressed in warm, earthy wood tones, antique paintings, stained-glass lamps

On a warm Thursday evening in September, Novel Pizza Cafe buzzed with upbeat energy, like an incarnate extension of the joyful shouts issuing from Harrison Park across the street. Teenagers clumped in little packs on the aluminum bleachers along the wall beneath a decorative scoreboard, housing single slices and sipping purple-stained ube iced lattes.  “Benny asked me to play kickball later,” one said.  At a nearby table two friends complained about work and blew on squares of pepperoni tavern pie. Customers still awaiting their pizza orders spilled outside onto the sidewalk. (Heads up: There’s no online or phone ordering here.) Some had walked their dogs over; many were dressed like they’d come straight from work or the gym.  At golden hour on this second-summer night in Pilsen, it felt as though this third place had anchored the corner of 19th and Wood Streets for decades, rather than just over three months. Of course, it helps that Novel’s excellent tavern- and pan-style pizzas leapfrog their often middling bar-food and tourist-trap categories, giving us pies as destination-worthy as they are comforting.  Before its brick-and-mortar debut in June, Novel’s three owners, cousins Francis Almeda and Ryan Catolico and their friend Enrique Huizar, popped up all over town to peddle their pizzas—at Nine Bar, Matters of the Heart Center, Side Practice and Drip Collective, the last two of which Almeda also owns.  Novel’s permanent menu features pizza by the slice, calzones and espre

I’ve experienced and reviewed a fair number of tasting-menu concepts this year, always with an asterisk for readers and me: Even if I love the meal, I probably won’t eat there again, barring some splurge-worthy life milestone or sea change in household income. Like the gift-wrapped menu handed out with the $700 bill, all this will soon be a sepia-toned memory for my restaurant scrapbook. “For now I’ll savor the delicious memories,” I wrote in a recent review.  This might explain my giddiness across all five courses at Ravenswood’s reimagined Bayan Ko, which transformed its a la carte menu of punchy Filipino and Cuban cooking into a prix-fixe-only format (and got a liquor license!) in May. At $95 per person plus $50 for wine pairings, it’s a comparative bargain edging into the attainable realm of dinner out on a regular Saturday night—albeit the kind special enough to routinely interrupt good conversation. Chef and owner Lawrence Letrero describes it best, as “a neighborhood-friendly tasting menu.” Letrero and his wife, general manager and owner Raquel Quadreny, implemented the changes upon taking over Glenn's Diner a few doors down, where Bayan Ko 1.0 favorites now take up the hefty guises of all-day diner fare at the roomier Bayan Ko Diner. Think silog with whole-fried baby milkfish, toothsome garlic rice and runny eggs; longanisa and soft scrambled egg Pinoy burritos with oniony tomato salsa; and Korean-style beef short ribs served “bistek” style with saucy Spanish onions. 

On a July afternoon of unbearable stickiness, I sat in the soothing, pale-wood dining room at Taiwanese noodle shop Minyoli, contemplating the best hot noodle soup for a scorcher like that day. (Full disclosure: I’m a steadfast believer in hot soup all year round.)  The server could have nudged me toward the seasonal, chilled “pasta salad,” a creamy tangle of thin wheat noodles slicked with sesame sauce tinged with piquant black vinegar and raw garlic beneath strands of raw carrot, cucumber and fried enoki mushroom. But as if reading my mind, he instead suggested the niuroumian, or beef noodle soup, with consommé.  “It’s very light and subtle but complex,” he said, “made from eight-hour-simmered beef bones.”  The soup whispered so gently of beefy minerality and sweet root veg-esque notes (thanks to angelica root and pineapple hearts, I’m told), that I was tempted to lower my voice as I chatted with my date between slurps and bites of tender beef shank. For a hot beef soup, it was, implausibly, refreshing. Of course, I wouldn’t have dared shush my slurping, lest I offend the bouncy, broth-flinging noodles that brought me here in the first place. Minyoli chef/owner and Taiwan native Rich Wang (Boka, Fat Rice) and his team make two shapes of standout wheat noodles in house, one thinner with more surface area for latching onto sauces, the other thicker and ribbon-shaped to remain al dente, “or ‘QQ’ as we would say in Taiwanese,” when set afloat in Minyoli’s beef or vegan broths,

In a recent article declaring “omakase the new steakhouse” for young, wealthy men looking to convene around exorbitant proteins, the New York Times deployed the term “bromakase,” which its critic, Pete Wells, apparently christened back in 2020. The word reverberated around in my head as I worked through the 10 distinct beef preparations (out of a hefty 14 courses) at Bonyeon, Chicago’s only beef omakase restaurant. After all, what’s bro-ier than a $300 red meat omakase in the steak-loving former epicenter of meatpacking? At times I pondered the concept’s appeal beyond the well-off beef brah. But clever, ebb-and-flow pacing and storytelling moments teasing Korea’s heritage of pairing beef with raw veg converged to create a nuanced experience unlike anything else in Chicago.  Like most major cities, omakase has catapulted into Chicago’s mainstream restaurant culture, manifesting in a slew of upmarket coursed sushi experiences and a few spinoffs on the concept featuring tacos (Cariño, Taqueria Chingón) and now beef. Bonyeon, the third restaurant in Korea natives Sangtae and Kate Park’s mini-empire (which also includes Michelin-starred Omakase Yume and the more casual Tengoku Aburiya), takes its cue from the high-end beef omakases popular in Seoul, Korea. The meal starts with a chef introducing various marbled cuts from various, well-cared-for cattle breeds in a pretty wood box. Then he slices and sears them in beef tallow on a downdraft grill before tweezing them onto your plate

Of all things, it was a fried corn silk garnish that made me well up during the fourth “Ravioli” course at Cariño, Uptown’s spectacular Latin American tasting menu restaurant from co-owner/executive chef Norman Fenton.  What’s maybe more noteworthy about this dish, in which al dente ravioli stuffed with puréed huitlacoche laze in truffle beurre blanc beneath a wave of corn foam, is that truffle isn’t rained on top like dollar bills. Rather it’s deployed subtly to enhance the corn smut’s woodsy, fermented qualities. Adorning the bowl’s edge with dehydrated corn and “popped” sorghum, the corn silk looked like little singed hairs. It tasted grassy and toasty, unlocking a childhood taste memory of eating ineptly shucked, grilled corn on the cob with butter. This stuck with me as I unearthed the grain’s diverse expressions one by one, then in a chorus—buttery, minerally, toasty, earthy like mushrooms, gently acidic, sweet as if sun dried. And I cried, just a little.  This was one of countless moments that solidified my sense that Cariño might be the best dining experience in Chicago right now, and a redemption of the tasting menu, which too often feels like it’s reaching for Michelin stars to the point of wanton tedium. Yes, you’ll find some fine-dining hallmarks: molecular gastronomy, occasional Wagyu and a truffle or two. Yes, there’s a hint of chef-bro one upmanship, namely a dessert in which a perfectly fried churro is doubly overpowered by foie gras mousse and a spiced cafe o

For a long time, we Midwestern Great Lakers kept many of our choicest food secrets in our grocery stores, delis and unassuming corner taverns. I’m talking about chunky smoked whitefish dip; oily giardiniera heaped on Italian beef; tangy beer cheese; crisp-edged hash; and charred, meaty burnt ends. What a time to see these ingredients reimagined with fine-dining ingenuity and breathless seasonality at places like Giant, Daisies and now five-month-old Nettare.  Nettare—meaning “nectar,” in reference to the restorative nature of good hospitality—is the debut restaurant of longtime bartender-turned restaurateur Conner O’Byrne (Publican, La Josie), with food helmed by executive chef John Dahlstrom (BLVD, Table, Donkey and Stick). This all-day cafe with a retail shop has the hipster, something-for-everyone vibe that’s pervaded openings since the pandemic. Despite the airy, plant-filled environs, Nettare’s food—punchy, rich and brackish on a recent April evening—recalls the embrace of a neighborhood joint with knotty-wood walls in, say, Petoskey, Michigan, or a timeworn Chicago beef stand. But friendly Midwestern comfort is merely a jumping-off point in the capable hands of Dahlstrom and company. The elongated, brick-walled space unfurls as a regionally focused market and bottle shop up front, past a hallway chef’s counter to the 45-seat dining room in back. Sliding into a banquette as evening waned, I felt soothed by the climbing, leafy plants and dim natural light pouring in from

It’s both silly and totally understandable that we human beings require tidy descriptors to sum up what kind of food a restaurant serves. Southeast Asian. Midwestern. Northern Italian. But how should one categorize the bold, veg-heavy, anything-goes dishes at handsome newcomer Maxwells Trading? In many ways, this singular menu synopsizes what it’s like to live and eat through major American cities right now—where cuisines, heritages and identities cram together and intermingle. Indeed, Maxwells Trading self-describes as “a Chicago restaurant by children of the city”—the children being Underscore Hospitality partners Erling Wu-Bower (Pacific Standard Time, Nico Osteria) and Josh Tilden (Pacific Standard Time) and executive chef Chris Jung (Momotaro).  Yet even this descriptor feels a little self-serious for what’s in store once you take your seat in the sprawling, urban-chic dining room. Here Chinese soup dumplings collide with pasta traditions of Bologna, Italy; Thai chili sauce dances with bitter greens and rare steak; and edible kelp whisks beurre blanc to the foamy seashore. Maxwells Trading is fresh, fiery and downright fun; I was unsurprised to learn that Tilden and Wu-Bower were inspired to create the kind of place where they’d want to hang out, where upbeat, free jazz spins on the turntable and martinis get their own menu subsection. After all, who said likable means unimaginative?  As this 80-seater is seemingly booked into oblivion*, my date and I walked in moments a

Walking into John’s Food & Wine on a busy Thursday night, I spotted a couple of open seats at the long marble bar. Normally, I’d make a beeline for this increasingly rare walk-in’s gift, but having just entered the back of the line at this upscale, fast-casual bistro, I hesitated. Was such self-serving behavior frowned upon?  Bar seats are indeed fair game for walk-ins at John’s, as I learned when a group behind me snagged the stools and commenced the ritual of dining out as we’ve all traditionally known it. But if you’re after a table at this Lincoln Park newcomer, you’ll queue up in front of a countertop tablet where (the night I was there) beverage director and sommelier Jonas Bittencourt takes your coursed, dinner order in one nerve-wracking go, then leads you to your table, where you choose your own pairing adventure by snapping a QR code and scrolling through Toast. There are no designated servers. Rather, a small crew helmed by co-owners and chefs Adam McFarland and Thomas Rogers breathlessly does a little of everything—hence the 20 percent service charge automatically applied to every check.  I acutely felt the lack of human touch throughout my meal—not just because this is a wine-focused restaurant full of cool, ever-changing pours that warrant a little storytelling. It also manifested in the harried pacing of courses and disconcerting sense that the main shepherd of our experience was the restaurant’s POS system. I longed for those small leisurely moments, like peru

Leave all preconceived notions about borscht at the door! I feel compelled to shout this, because at Avondale newcomer Anelya, the borsch (no “t” in Ukrainian) upends the thin, staunchly utilitarian soup you or I may have known. Homaging the style of Poltava in central Ukraine, it’s lush and harmonious, gently sour yet bearing sweet campfire notes from charcoal-dried pears; the addition of rich, gamey duck tames its telltale earthiness.  Like the rest of the menu at Johnny Clark and Beverly Kim’s exceptional restaurant, this humble dish both nourishes and teases with the thrill of discovery, less a chef’s reimagining of Ukrainian cuisine than a chef-led illumination of what’s long been there—and long suppressed—now joyously released. It makes Anelya the sort of restaurant you can’t wait to see evolve, but also one you want to greedily take in while it’s exuberantly new, and tell all who’ll listen to do the same. Anelya opened in October, born partly of misfortune, as chefs/co-owners Clark and wife Kim closed its casual prix-fixe predecessor Wherewithall last May following a collapsed sewer line—after barely surviving a prolonged, Covid-era closure. But it afforded them a blank slate of sorts to unpack Clark’s Ukrainian cooking roots, which he’d begun researching during the pandemic. Chicago is home to only a handful of Ukrainian restaurants, despite being the city with the second-largest population of Ukrainian immigrants.  Clark’s grandmother, Anelya Ochatchinskiya, was born

Before my sister and I dined at Lilac Tiger, we each spent some time perusing the menu in advance, as is our strategic custom, in the hope of stemming our tendency to over-order (this never works). During that time, she became convinced that the “Ferrani Special” crispy THC nuggets actually comprised small balls of weed fried like chicken. I assumed it was a play on words, but didn’t rule out the weed nuggets idea.  The real story is far more wholesome. THC stands for tandoor honey chicken; the name dually homages executive chef/partner Zubair Mohajir’s son Ferran, whose favorite snack is his dad’s chicken nuggets, sauced with honey featuring Mohajir’s 15-spice tandoori blend. Maybe more important for Time Out readers’ purposes, though, is how utterly mouthwatering these morsels are—tangy, warmly spicy and savory-sweet with a juicy interior and exterior sporting a softened crunch like gobi manchurian, dunked in gochujang aioli that tastes like supercharged fry sauce.  Still, there’s an undeniable coolness to this low-lit Wicker Park storefront with its punchy, South Asian street food and neon vibes that makes you not want to give yourself away with a square question like, “Um, is there weed in these nuggets?”  Lilac Tiger’s (formerly Wazwan) trendiness owes in part to its indie roots, beginning as an underground tasting-menu supper club in Lakeview, then a quick-service stall in the hastily shuttered Politan Row food hall and a ghost kitchen in River West. Wazwan found a phys

For some of us, there may be a brief moment when, as we gaze up at Lemon’s menu board of beloved and forgotten classic cocktails, we feel the dreaded pang of intimidation. What on earth is an Absinthe Suissesse? Is this gonna be one of those bars?  Well firstly, Lemon’s Absinthe Suissesse is a (less absinthe-heavy) revival of the frothy, early 1900s brunch cocktail with absinthe, creme de menthe, egg white and orgeat. More importantly, I’m delighted to report that this West town cocktail bar and performance venue is anything but pretentious.  Here revived icons and cerebral creations like the Beet Salad (sotol, feta vodka, orgeat, amaro and beet shrub) share the same menu page as a killer Mojito and fancyish riff on the never-say-die Espresso Martini, aptly called Express-Yo-Self. (As the partners like to say, “Give the people what they want!”) Midwest Handshakes—a.k.a. a short Budweiser plus a shot of Malört or bourbon—will set you back just $5.25 all day, every day.   Photograph: Ryan Beshel Not to mention that your drink might come with a side of percussionist Alex Santili’s ever-changing jazz ensemble on a Thursday night, or a couple of dad jokes any day of the week, courtesy of managing partner Zack McMahon and his fellow bartenders who are steadfastly amassing corny one-liners. “I’m currently reading a book about antigravity and I can’t put it down,” was a recent favorite. “A lot of people have been saying this is a fancy cocktail bar, which I don’t love,” McMahon say

If you take a seat in the sprawling Guinness Open Gate Brewery in the West Loop, beneath the formidable, 7,700-pound metal harp sculpture that hangs over the main bar, and order a pint of Guinness, the bartender will promptly ask, “Which one?” You’ll find a dozen taps here, pouring a rotating selection of beers ranging from a sweet, American cream ale brewed with creamed corn to a dry kölsch-style ale, a tropical fruit-scented pale ale and a dry-hopped Italian pilsner. Of course, if you specify Guinness Draught Stout, the storied ritual will commence. The bartender takes up the tulip-shaped pint and turns it in her hand to check for cleanliness. She tilts the glass at 45 degrees beneath the tap, into which she cascades the liquid, at first a creamy light brown, until it’s three-quarters full. She sets it down, then returns some 120 seconds later to top it up and slide it across the bar—the beer now a ruby-tinted black thickly capped with cream-colored head.  You go in for that first sip, velvety textured, toasty and malty sweet with a coffee-esque backbone and bitter edge: “Ahhh! Tastes just like it does at the St. James’s Gate Brewery in Dublin!” Photograph: Momoko Fritz You’re right, in the sense that the stout synonymous with the Diageo-owned brand is indeed brewed in Dublin, not here. In fact, a pint of the black at Open Gate doesn’t differ much from the excellent Guinness Draught Stout meticulously poured at Mrs. Murphy & Sons in North Center or Lady Gregory’s in Ander

It’s a hot, sticky afternoon in early July as we head into hipster Ukrainian Village cocktail den Sportsman’s Club, bound for the back patio, where a sizable crowd has gathered despite intermittent downpours. There, a small assemblage of local chefs and wine pros dish up freshly shucked New Zealand and Rhode Island oysters and paper bowls of Laotian-style boiled shrimp—in view of their unofficial mascot, a red Royal Enfield motorcycle.  This is Motorshucker, Chicago’s traveling oyster bar. Born in 2021 out of Mico Hillyard’s and Kat Dennis’s shared love of vintage bikes and bivalves, this pop-up business—also composed of partners Cubby Dimling and Jamie Davis—now has standing gigs at Sportsman’s, Easy Does It, The Charleston and Ludlow Liquors, and is doling out its Southeast Asian-spiced fried peanuts and potato chips strewn with creme fraiche and caviar at restaurant takeovers and events like Third Coast Soif and the forthcoming Pitchfork Music Festival. “We started during Covid, partly because we couldn’t find any oysters through restaurants being closed,” Hillyard says. “We were sourcing from a family friend’s farm, Fisher Island Oyster Farm in the Long Island Sound, hanging out, shucking them in the park. Around the same time Kat and I started working on motorcycles—we thought this would be a nice way to combine the two and bring them around town to people.” Photograph: Maggie HennessyKat Dennis and Cubby Dimling For their first unofficial event—undertaken mainly to ke

If you ask Henry Cai, the chef behind takeout startup @3LittlePigsChi, to divulge how he prepares his char siu-style Chinese barbecue pork, he smiles and hesitates—visibly conflicted between safeguarding a treasured recipe and disappointing you. Cai’s barbecue pork is succulent and satisfyingly toothsome, glossed in sticky-sweet sauce with tang and warming depth. He learned how to make it from his dad, an immigrant from Guangzhou, in Southern China, and chef turned jeweler who in turn learned from a Chinese si fu (master). “Chinese cooks my dad’s age (he’s 68) are really protective of recipes; my mom doesn’t even know how he makes it,” Cai tells me. With that he relents, just a little. “Traditionally, Chinese pork is more dry. I add more sauce, because that’s how I like it, and that’s how Americans eat barbecue.” Cai was scouting locations to open a Chinese barbecue restaurant around his native Bridgeport when COVID-19 ground those plans to a halt. Not long before, he’d started posting pictures on Instagram of his scratch-made dishes under the @3LittlePigsChi moniker. “My friends were like, ‘Lemme get an order—I’ll pay for it,’” he says. “Some friends, without permission, started telling people, ‘My buddy is doing this.’ Then suddenly, random people started messaging me for orders.” Thanks to ever-sleuthing food writer Titus Pullo, I became one of those random people, DMing a stranger for a pound of lacquered pork nubs and 10 juicy pork potstickers with thick, chewy wrappers

In 1855 Levi Boone, the anti-immigrant, pro-temperance mayor of a nascent Chicago, tried to leverage his power against a growing German population by going after their right to drink. He ordered police to enforce an old law requiring taverns to be closed on Sundays, a move that would disproportionately impact immigrants, who worked Monday through Saturday and (surprise) liked to throw back a few steins on their sole day off. He also jacked up liquor license fees from $50 per year to $300 a quarter, threatening to drive the city’s mostly German- and Irish-owned saloons out of business. Hundreds of tavern owners defied the law by remaining open on Sunday and were arrested. The day of their scheduled mass trial, some 1,000 protestors marched downtown, prompting Boone to call in militia reinforcements. A fight broke out between protestors and police, leaving one German man dead. A disgraced Boone was forced to release the prisoners and lower liquor license fees, and his weakened party didn’t run for re-election in 1856. Thanks in part to German voter turnout, a statewide prohibition referendum failed, leaving citizens to enjoy a drink as they pleased and helping a marginalized group claim a place in the growing, diversifying city. From this earliest instance of civil unrest known as the 1855 Lager Beer Riot, which laid the groundwork for Chicago’s rough-and-tumble politics, to the 19th century brewery-induced building boom that would establish the city as an architectural powerho

Chicago food writer Nicole Schnitzler has watched her brother Daniel make his favorite meal dozens of times. He fills the same pink Tupperware bowl with frozen corn, peas and carrots from the bag, adds a flurry of Kraft Parmesan cheese, then digs in while it’s still frosty. Daniel, who’s 42, was diagnosed with autism when he was 3. “All his life, Daniel—like myself— has loved and embraced food, even though in many ways we have really different tastes,” says Schnitzler. “One day, I’m in the kitchen watching him make this, and it dawns on me: I bet a chef could make a dish inspired by this that I’d find really delicious.” Motivated by the state’s budget impasse, which threatened the main funding source for the residential and training programs Daniel counts on, Schnitzler founded Doors Open Dishes. The organization partners with Chicago chefs to create menu items inspired by the comfort foods of people with disabilities, donating part of the proceeds to an organization that supports the featured individual. DOD kicks off this month at Cindy’s, inside the Chicago Athletic Association, where executive chef Christian Ragano showcases crispy chicken milanesa with Texas caviar (barbecued beans with still-crunchy corn, fresh peas and carrots), local sweet-corn pudding and smoked ramp vinaigrette, inspired by Daniel. Cindy's executive chef Christian Ragano, Photograph: Jason Little “Daniel’s fantastic—so bubbly and very decisive about what he likes to eat,” says Ragano. “He loves fr