First, a morning at the Museum of Contemporary Art. Highlights:
Glass balls etched with falling paper...
a motion-sensor activated installation of a screw going in and out of the wall...
a video installation of Gillian Wearing, and "self-portraits" she made with hyper-realistic masks (gah, scary!):
Then, hibiscus fruit tea at an Argo cafe, and a jaunt through through the capitalist, neo-feminist underbelly of our society: an American Girl store. Ivy, the Asian doll doesn't even get her own display, she's just San Francisco hippy Julie's token friend. I call, "bullshit."
A horrible pedicure in the Bucktown area, and a failed attempt at dining at avec--some kind of company dinner--and then no dice at Blackbird (I forget the wherefores). Paul Kahan, what in the fuck did I ever do to you?
Instead, we make our way to Spring, where Tess used to cook, an Asian-fusion, fine dining sort of establishment (though they prefer to be described as "Asian inspired"). According to people in the know (unnamed here), it kinda feels like it's on its last legs as a hip, happenin' kind of place--we're a party of three among a total of 9 diners. I know it's a Tuesday night, but shit...
Anyway:
1. amuse bouche with a mushroom, fava bean, pickled something or other, and wild onion (the city's eponymous food--"shikaakwa")
2. sesame white bean dip with flatbread
3. hamachi with a toasted sesame seed thingy
4. farm egg ravioli with brown butter/white truffle/smoked potato
5. pork belly with thin wafer pickled cucumber, thai basil, cilantro, in a sweet and sour sauce (which is just okay)
6. grilled octopus with fresh egg pasta, parsley, confit lemon, and marrow sauce and onions
7. Australian Barramundi, potato gnocchi spiced with dehydrated kimchi-spiced, brussel sprouts/almond/grilled scallion
8. lavender-infused chocolate (which tastes to me like papaya?) in wee demitasse-ish cups
In a stroke of good fortune, we ask the server for recommendations as to our next destination, and he offers: Big Star, Kahan's latest in his stable of gastronomic stallions (I know, weird metaphor), and within walking distance from Spring! Cara and Tess, they limit themselves to drinks, but I? Oh, never fear, dear reader:
1. orchata
2. pork belly taco
3. lamb shoulder taco with radish
4. tostado con pescado
Yes, I have dinner numero dos minutes after dinner numero uno, and there are NO FUCKING REGRETS. In the words of Trey Parker, "Fuck, yeah!"
I only regret that I have but one stomach to give for Paul Kahan...
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