Sorry for keeping you hanging on Part 2, fair readers…..Mags Bennett, XV, BW, and yours truly had planned for a while to hit up Ruxbin one night. So, on an average, cold as fuck, January Saturday night we all conspired to meet for dinner. Ruxbin, the recent recipient of its first Michelin star, is coming off a pretty big plug by both GQ and Bon Appetit who named it one of the United States, "Best New Restaurants of 2011". In spite of its popularity and accolades, Ruxbin takes no reservations and has a tiny, jewelbox of a dining room. Anyone who knows anything about eating out in Chicago, or who has ever been to Longman and Eagle on a weekend evening, knows this can mean waits up to three hours for a table. Nevertheless, we ventured over to West Town to see what all the hype was.
XV and I arrived on the scene around 5:30, knowing full well we were in for a wait. Needing to go pick up wine down the street at Lush (Rux is BYO), I mentioned it might be a good idea to put our name in for a table first as we drove by. Being fashionably early has its privileges, as we were the last people to get our names in before they were fully committed for the rest of the night (at 5:30!). The hostess told me they would call us when our table was ready, in about an hour and a half. Perfect we thought, as we had already planned on meeting Mags and BV around the corner at Leopold for a beer and a starter.
After picking up a couple awesome bottles of wine at Lush (probably the best wine purveyor in the city; all exotic and hard to find vintages) we walked into Leopold, grabbed a seat at one of the loungey tables near the back of the bar, and relaxed. A couple Belgian beers for me and a glass of cinnamon infused Leopold Whisky (no relation to the restaurant) for XV later, Mags and BW showed up. Mags being six months pregnant, and still in amazing shape, stayed away from the booze while BW and I kept downing Belgians. Before you knew it our table was ready back at Ruxbin. The time was exactly 6:38, well ahead of the hour and a half quoted. We were off to a pretty good start.
By the time we got back to Ruxbin it was exactly 7 on the head, and we were all starving hungry. The room at Ruxbin is tiny, but really well done, with a French bistro meets American contemporary vibe. It was warm and inviting, yet still intimate and exotic. Seated at a four top near the front window, we had a birds eye view of our 20 or so fellow diners, all whom seemed to be rolling their eyes in ecstasy over the food they were consuming. Between its 5 star Yelp reviews (in well over a hundred reviews no less), its Michelin star, and its endorsement by what seems to be every single national restaurant reviewer in the United States, I was seriously excited about the food to come.
The menu is small and somewhat limited, but there were a few things that caught our respective eyes. Mags and XV ordered the Apple and Plum salads, BW and I ordered the deconstructed Endive Caesar, and we all decided to share an order of calamari. As the waiter was taking our order we were debating on ordering the garlic fries, and both he and the table next to us interjected and convinced us that they were worth the splurge. The table of well heeled western suburanites out for a night in the big city sitting next to us remarked that the fries were the best thing that they ate that night, and the waiter only bolstered this claim by mentioning that he has an order after every shift. A strong endorsement for an item that I’ve routinely ordered at Giants games when I lived in California. More importantly, a strong endorsement for an dish which never really wowed me at all.
The starters arrived, and from the first bite we were all underwhelmed. The salads, while good, were nothing to write home about. For the most part they were exactly what they said they were on the menu; no more, no less. The Endive Caesar, tasted like a lot like every other Caesar I’ve ever had, and the Apple and Plum salads were so simple that there wasn’t even enough flavor or ingenuity to review here; a simple Apple and Plum salad with a light vinaigrette and some bitter winter greens. After ho huming it through the salads, the starters arrived. The calamari was served with chicken and pork forcemeat, potato confit, Korean chili, pickled fennel, and peanuts. It sounded interesting on the menu, but when it arrived it was far from interesting. A small plate of delicate calamari, browned from the chili and forcemeat, it ended up looking more like unappetizing mush, and tasted like someone had doused it in blackening spices and served it. Color me unimpressed. Next up was the fries, and guess what? They tasted just like the forgettable fries that I had ordered so many times at Giants games…Blah. We all remarked to each other in amazement how these little fuckers drew anyone’s attention, much less their rants and raves.
On to the entrees….I had done a lot of reading on what people were ordering and talking about beforehand so I felt like I was in the catbird’s seat to have a dynamite finale to the meal. Despite it not being something I’d normally order, and all my Greek heritage aside, the lamb was the single most popular dish amongst reviewers. People literally wrote life and palate changing reviews about this dish, so how the fuck could I avoid it? At the very least, I thought, if I missed on a different entrée I’d always wonder if the lamb was as good as advertised, and since I had no idea when I’d be back again, I took the plunge. The orders for the table were as follows: Mags---Amish Chicken, Roasted Breast, Confit Leg, Red Pearl Onions, Brussels Sprouts, and Pain Perdu with Apple, Gouda, and Walnuts BW---Pork Loin, Sweet Potato Gnocchi, Brown Butter Emulsion, Kale, Kalamata Olives, Cranberry, Sage XV---Hanger Steak, Wrinkled Long Beans, Candied Bacon, Chimichurri, Creme Fraiche, Heirloom Potatoes Me---Lamb, polenta, blah, blah, blah, blah. (I bet you can see where this is going)
The entrees arrived and we all tore into them with excited anticipation, hoping that these would finally instill the fanaticism and intensity that had led so many to rant and rave about Ruxbin. After a mere two bites, all I could think of was Rachel Dratch as Debbie Downer on SNL….womp, womp. BW ate his Pork Loin happily, but it drew no rants. Mags loved her chicken, but admitted that it was just chicken; a great piece of chicken and perfectly done, but chicken nonetheless. XV raved about her hanger steak, but like Mags, she admitted that it was very good but far from rave worthy. My lamb, well, not much to say other than http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IJ_R-G_i4Xk . It was cooked perfectly, seasoned nicely, and the polenta was a very nice compliment. However, given the reviews and the insane rumblings about how amazing the dish was, it just didn’t live up to the hype. In fact, it didn’t come anywhere near living up to the hype. As my old Furby used to say....boooooriiiiiinnnng.
As a complete aside, about 2/3 of the reviews of Ruxbin noted that diners had to go the bathroom at least once during their visit, as it was like going into a space pod and was an experience unto itself. Yeah well, all four of us went to the bathroom, and guess what? Nobody had a life changing experience in the bathroom. Bottom line, it was a bathroom with a revolving darkroom door as an entrance, big fucking deal.
In summation, Ruxbin would get a two and a half to three star review (out of four) from me. On its own, without the reviews, I would have been impressed. But the minute you raise expectations to the level that people had, I expected more. Much, much, much more. At the end of the day you can’t serve me fuckin garlic fries and expect me to have a food boner big enough to give you a four star review. I’ve eaten all over the world, and moreover I’m a realist; when you give a four star review, a Michelin star, and you’re one of the best new restaurants in the nation you better do better than garlic fries and hanger steak. Don’t let the review dissuade you from going, but for those of you who have eaten at some of the city’s more notable restaurants, temper your expectations.
