OTOM, Chicago, Illinois

After a few thwarted attempts to visit friends in Chicago, I was finally able to swing a last minute trip this past Thursday. With nothing more on my agenda than to try a new restaurant (to me, anyway) and to spend a day at the Art Institute, I set about to find the latest and greatest addition to the city's ever-burgeoning restaurant scene.

From Urban Belly to Xoco to Purple Pig, I gathered recommendations from friends, magazines, and blogs. Go carnivore? Herbivore? Asian? Latin? It was all too overwhelming. Fortunately, my friend Ronda had just purchased a $30 Groupon worth $60 at OTOM, in Chicago's Fulton Market district. For two on a budget, this sealed the deal. OTOM it was.

In the heart of the city's meatpacking district, OTOM sits one block away from The Publican, the pork-laden menu of which I glowingly reviewed on this site last year. It's also next door to sister restaurant, MOTO, which has gotten great reviews for the "future food" approach led by chef-slash-molecular gastronomist Homaro Cantu. The brainchildren of Chicago restaurateur Joseph DeVito, MOTO features post-modern cuisine in a futuristic "molecular tasting room" setting, while OTOM features modern comfort food in a chic, industrial, brick-walled former gallery interior.

The menu at OTOM shouts "comfort" like the big, fluffy sofa in your parents' rumpus room growing up, only trimmed in orange resin and upholstered with shiny, white vinyl. Macaroni and cheese, fried chicken, and fish and chips get a modern makeover by Executive Chef Thomas Elliott Bowman and his team. Feeling carnivorous, I selected the Pork Tenderloin entree, brined and smoked, and served with a creamy white bean puree, sauteed swiss chard, and dressed with a savory piquillo pepper sauce. Ronda took the herbivore route, opting for the daily Forager Plate special, which featured a substantial red rice risotto cake, flowering kale and shiitake mushroom sautee, and a chunk of sweet corn on the cob. Our meals were preceded by a barbecued pork belly appetizer, served atop thinly sliced fresh pineapple and a poblano sauce.

All three of these dishes were spectacular, from the sweet and salty belly with its hint of heat from the poblano, to my smoky tenderloin and its unexpectedly standout white bean accompaniment, to Ronda's red rice cake and its satisfyingly crunchy--yet lightly airy--breadcrumb crust. Our only complaint--which we were both disappointed to admit--was our shared side of macaroni and cheese, served in a preciously miniature cast iron dish. Consisting of twisted, trofie pasta tossed in a creamy white cheddar sauce, the mac and cheese was overwhelmingly salty, almost to the point where I thought, perhaps, the chef had accidentally knocked the contents of an entire cellar of salt into the sauce, yet served it anyway. Its only saving grace was the accompanying corn fritter, chock full of whole corn kernels, lightly battered and deliciously sweet.

Unfortunately, with bellies completely full from our appetizer and entrees, we had no room left for dessert. The menu sounded intriguing, however, featuring a Sazerac baba, soaked in a rye syrup and accompanied by absinthe ice cream, and a lavender-polenta honey cake, with sweet corn ice cream and peach coulis.

Adding a glass of rose' for me and a whiskey cocktail for Ronda, our bill for dinner came out to a reasonable $81 with tax. Subtracting the $30 savings from the Ronda's Groupon, our final tally of $51 was more than satisfying to our pocketbooks. At the end of the evening, however, Ronda and I debated whether we'd return to OTOM. If invited on someone else's dime: definitely, but with all of the new and exciting joints opening left and right in the city, OTOM is not one we would put on regular restaurant rotation. I would, however, fancy a feast at MOTO some day, to satisfy a "future food" fix.

Unapologetically Omnivorous

Herbivores: You may want to pass on this particular blog entry and skip ahead to my next one on biscuits, or jump back to a previous veggie-friendly entry, such as my recent writings on home-cooked beans. That's because this one is dedicated to the omnivores--specifically those who lean toward carnivore, and are not especially squeamish about less "choice" cuts of meat.

During a particularly lonely exile to the hinterlands of the northern suburbs of Metro Detroit (okay, I was dog-sitting for my vacationing brother in Rochester), I took an opportunity to experiment in the kitchen with a dish I'd enjoyed several times in restaurants but never at home: Pork Belly.

Ever since my recent trip to the Philippines, where I encountered pork belly (known locally as liempo) in countless culinary applications, I've been obsessed with the stuff. Roasted, deep fried, and braised, I couldn't get enough of it. I even happened upon a fast food version at a food court vendor called "Liempo Boy." I secretly adopted that as my superhero name.

In recent years, pork belly--which is, basically, a fresh, uncured, unsmoked slab of belly bacon--has become the darling of chefs here in the U.S. I recently enjoyed it roasted and served atop a salad at Lola in Cleveland, glazed and seared at The Publican in Chicago, and sliced and served as a salumi at Boccalone in San Francisco. Cuisines from Asia to Europe to Latin America favor this humble cut, due to its relatively low cost, but richness of flavor.

I was recently able to get my hands on a nice cut of pork belly, with a nice proportion of meat sandwiched between two layers of unctuous fat, and capped with a thick layer of rind. This last part is, usually, what turns people off the most (even those who are typically bacon-eaters), but it's my most favorite. Growing up in an ethnic household, I was exposed to pork rind all my eating life--from the crispy skin of lechon (whole, spit-roasted pig) to the crunchy pork rinds we snacked on, dipping them in a sauce of spicy vinegar and garlic. The Publican restaurant in Chicago offered a pork rind appetizer, which was airy and crispy, and absolutely melt-in-your-mouth delicious.

With this fresh belly, I knew I wanted to make sure I maximized its full crunchy crackling potential. After consulting several on-line recipes, I finally settled on a treatment offered by Jamie Oliver, the "Naked Chef." His recipe was simple, and his technique, effortless. After a brief high-temperature roasting to sear the meat and crisp the skin, he lowers the heat and finishes roasting the pork belly atop aromatic vegetables, which ultimately he uses to flavor his gravy. I borrowed his recipe for technique rather than ingredients, instead devising my own soy sauce-based glaze which, when combined with the pan juices, made for a delicious sauce on its own.

Roasted Soy-Lacquered Pork Belly

1 1-lb. slab fresh pork belly

salt & pepper, to taste

1 c. low-sodium soy sauce

1/2 c. honey

4 cloves garlic, crushed

1 tsp. ginger, grated

Juice of 1 orange

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Using a sharp knife, score the skin of the pork belly, being careful not to cut too far into the fat. Sprinkle salt into the surface of the skin and into the scores. Brush off any excess salt. Turn pork over and salt and pepper the underside. Place pork belly in a non-stick or foil-lined roasting pan, skin side up, and roast in the oven until the skin has begun to crisp and turn golden brown, approximately 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, in a saucepan, combine the remaining ingredients and simmer over medium heat, until reduced into a thick glaze. Set aside.

Remove pork from the oven and baste with pan juices. If there is an excessive amount of fat in the pan, pour some off or remove with a turkey baster. Lower temperature to 350 degrees and return the pork to the oven to roast for an additional 45 minutes.

Remove pork from the oven again, and pour off any excessive fat. Brush the top of the skin and the sides with the glaze. Return to the oven for a final 15 minutes, brushing with more glaze about half-way through.

Remove pork from the pan and allow to rest, approximately 10 minutes. Slice into 3/4-inch strips or into 2x2-inch chunks, spooning pan juices over, upon plating. If there is any reserved soy glaze, you may wish to spoon that over, as well. Serves 4 as an entree or 6 as a first course.

For the record, here's Jamie's original recipe for Pork Belly Roast:

http://www.channel4.com/food/recipes/chefs/jamie-oliver/pork-belly-roast-recipe_p_1.html

The Publican, Chicago, Illinois

A spectacular meal shared with friends during a recent trip to Chicago inspired me to resume blogging about food. "Kitchenette" captures my mindless musings on food, from the most mundane preparations at home to the tastiest dining experiences on the road.

Christening Kitchenette's foray into the blogosphere is this recounting of an inspired dinner enjoyed at The Publican, a lively eatery in Chicago's West Loop neighborhood. From the brilliant minds behind critical darlings avec and Blackbird, The Publican has become renowned for its adventuresome menu and frenetic energy. It holds its post at 845 W. Fulton Market, amidst the Windy City's gentrifying meat packing district, and serves up a magnificent selection of the most indulgent ingredients: carefully-sourced seafood, certified organic pork, artisanal cheeses, and a vast menu of domestic and international beers highlight the menu.

The evening of my virgin experience at The Publican, I dined with six mostly-adventurous foodie friends, seated communally at a long table in the center of the restaurant. The idea of communal dining typically tends to turn me off, but this time, it totally enhanced the experience. Neighbors unabashedly chimed in with recommendations, queried over others' selections, and sometimes stopped just short of asking for a taste. Over a robust glass of Old #38 stout from California's North Coast Brewing Company, I pored through the menu with my co-diners, deliberating which selections would offer a well-rounded representation of what The Publican had to offer. We, of course, started with a round of Crispy Pork Rinds, which arrived in brown paper cones, warm from the fryer and seasoned lightly with salt and spice. To accompany the pork rinds, we shared a charcuterie plate of a terrined country pate, pork pie, head cheese, and boudin noir (blood sausage), along with cornichons, caperberries, and mustards. Then, we were treated on-the-house to a couple of cones of freshly-made fries, accompanied by creamy, garlicky aioli. We knew we were in for a fantastic evening.

A few among our group had dined at The Publican several times before, and offered their recommendations. However, most of us had never been and were looking forward to what was to come. I was disappointed to learn that my selection, the Monterey Bay sardines, were gone for the evening. So, I settled on the "Little Gem Salad" of Michigan greens, fennel, radish, and muscatel-buttermilk vinaigrette, topped with crisped pig's ear, as well as a pot of pork rillettes served with kumquat marmalade and crunchy crostini. Around the table, my co-diners indulged in unctuous Quebecois sweetbreads with bacon and mustard greens; country pork ribs with a sweet-sour Asian-inspired glaze; seared, glazed pork belly; a Basque stew of mussels, shrimp, salt cod, and scallops, served with chunky bread and red pepper rouille; and lastly, a potee--a slow braise of pork shoulder, loin, and chorizo. Our seventh, who had filled himself up on appetizers, opted for the only vegetable among our bunch: simply roasted asparagus topped with crushed peanuts.

Each dish made a round robin amongst our group, and we feasted on nibbles of each others' selections. It was a wonderful way to share the experience, and prompted tireless conversation about food and cooking. We ogled the orders of our neighbors, especially the order of jewel-like roasted beets with burrata cheese, and the trio of Serrano, La Quercia, and Prosciutto hams ordered by the diners seated beside me. The only thing about The Publican that slightly disappointed was the minimal dessert selection: aside from a variety of artisanal cheeses, the dessert menu was comprised of a dark chocolate budino (bread pudding), a waffle with pear and honey butter, and panna cotta with roasted beets. Although I would have gladly tried the latter option, none of my co-diners opted for dessert, so we all settled on coffees to finish our meal. No worries, though--this minor shortfall in the menu was more than offset by the stupendous meal we had just enjoyed. Once the bill arrived, we were pleased to find it came to only $40 per person--a bargain, as far as any of us were concerned, for such a fantastic meal.

Overall, The Publican deserves all of the accolades it has received in recent months, as do chefs Paul Kahan and Brian Huston for their deliciously indulgent menu and commitment to well-sourced ingredients. In this light and airy space, with its wooded decor, globe chandeliers, and pig-themed murals by local artists, the team has succeeded in adding another gem to the crown of Chicago's food scene.

For more information about The Publican, visit their website at http://www.thepublicanrestaurant.com/