South Water Kitchen

So it’s a fact: the words “theWit”, “ROOF”, “Market”, “Bull & Bear”, “The Publican” and “cibo matto” are no doubt the buzz about town. I admit we can all be suckers for hot spots, moi aussi, and usually for good reason. But some places in Chicago need to be equally recognized, even if they have been graced with a visit from Father Time.

Case in point: South Water Kitchen. South Water What? Hotel Monaco’s lovely little bistro, that’s what. (Which happens to be situated directly around the corner from that fancy-shmancy Wit place, but I digress.) This off-the-beaten-trendy-path destination is nothing short of refined, upscale and on par with Chicago’s culinary provenance. There is really no other way to describe this place other than to call it a hidden gem. And sanguinely speaking, a hidden gem no longer.

What people need to know about this restaurant is not necessarily the extraordinarily charming atmosphere, the preciously kind staff or even the intelligent wine list, but three words: Chef Chris Lateano. Lateano sharpened his knives with the likes of Wolfgang Puck and Emeril Lagasse and has been seen around town at spots like Green Dolphin and Grace. But at SWK, he finally gets his own time to shine. Or rather, he lets his food (and the local farmers and their fresh ingredients) do the shining. His menu is one of the most locally celebratory menus I’ve seen in a long while, utilizing proteins and produce with more flair and courage than most hot-spot chefs would even dare to do.

So what did I have during my decadent, perfectly paced six course meal? The question is: what didn’t I have? The night started off with chiogga beet borscht with house smoked sturgeon, watermelon radish, pea shoots and lemon oil: ‘twas an amuse of decadently light proportions. The tomato heirloom salad with sweet onion, celery leaves, goat cheese and herb oil wasn’t revolutionary in flavor but distinguished in its simplicity. The Caw Caw Creek Country prosciutto with parmesan, snow queen nectarines, 25-year-old balsamic and organic California olive oil played on the harmony of salty ham and tart fruit with flawless execution.

After this explosive and beautiful progression of flavors, the pineapple and orange blossom sorbet with vino verde basil was definitely in order. (Duh.) Out next was the grilled wild Columbia River sturgeon with Anson Mills white grits, braised French breakfast radish, soy beans, curried sweet corn emulsion and oxtail reduction. It was the finest piece of plated fish this side of the river. However, land beats sea in this prix fixe as the braised short ribs with roasted baby carrots, potato puree and gremolata, (which were rich and soft as butter, literally falling seductively off the bone), slightly overshadowed its scaly companion.

SWK knows (like everyone should at this point) Cheeky girls don’t leave without dessert and seeing there were two of us, we were served two: the pistachio cheesecake with a nilla wafer crust and rosewater macerated Nichols Farm strawberries was food-gasmic, as was the bittersweet chocolate cake with cocoa nib caramel and salted peanut gelato. No overshadowing here – the desserts were pound for pound perfection.

So in the spirit of overshadowing — er, not overshadowing, I mean — don’t let your incessant desire to see and be seen at all the scenes sway you from experiencing, in my Cheeky opinion, the best thing about this city: the gems.