New Review: Everest
4-star classic is one of Chicago's most romantic spots
By Phil Vettel
I'm often asked to name the most romantic restaurants in Chicago--a daunting task. As far as I'm concerned, sitting amid comfortable surroundings and gazing upon your sweetie while others bring you food and drink is romantic per se. Everything else is a matter of personal taste.
It's almost easier to define what is not romantic. Display kitchens are not romantic. Surgical-level lighting is not romantic. Intrusive music is not romantic. Too-close tables are not romantic (if you can't stretch your arms without tickling the ear of someone other than your date, the tables are too close).
But there are exceptions. I would consider one sixtyblue a romantic restaurant, provided my table were some distance away from the display kitchen. Rumba, which I reviewed two weeks ago, is crowded and loud, but the stirring Afro-Cuban music and the presence of a dance floor make it a passionate choice for romantic dining. Cafe Lucci, a very good Italian restaurant in Glenview, is a bit noisy and too brightly lit, but it has a strolling violinist. I can't resist a strolling violinist.
Conversely, there are dark, intimate, relatively quiet restaurants I don't find romantic at all. Geja's Cafe, a fondue specialist that invariably tops most romantic-restaurant surveys in Chicago, has never struck me as particularly romantic. I like the place, and it is low-lit, and the live guitar music is delightful. But dunking meat into scalding oil doesn't set my heart a-flutter. For me the most romantic part of dining at Geja's is that, when my wife and I get home, our clothes smell so strongly of cooking oil that we can't wait to disrobe.
Sometimes romance requires a particular table. The window table at Saussy, for instance, or the elevator table at Vivo. I'm particularly enamored of the vault tables at Opera, little brick-lined niches that can seem intimate even when the restaurant is jam-packed.
Some people equate a terrific view with romance; I'm ambivalent on that score. I find a great view to be insufficient compensation for indifferent food, and I've had both at the romantic perches at The Signature Room and Cite. Spiaggia and NoMI have less-splendid views, but both restaurants have such exquisite food I'd find them romantic if they were housed in a grain silo.
Not all my favorite romantic spots are expensive. Cafe Matou, an adorable French restaurant on the Bucktown/Logan Square fringe, is very budget-friendly, as is Bistrot Margot in Old Town and Cyrano's Bistrot & Wine Bar in River North.
But for a restaurant that combines it all--sumptuous surroundings, careful lighting, supremely attentive service and food that is as awe-inspiring as its spectacular views--I'd nominate four-star Everest as Chicago's most romantic restaurant.
I stopped in recently, and found the 40th-floor dining room just as I remembered it, its cream-and-black interior as good-looking as ever (remarkable, as it's more than 15 years old). The lighting is soft enough to be warm, but bright enough that you can read chef Jean Joho's menu, which offers a balance of old and new. Apart from the main menu is a small section offering classic dishes such as tournedos Rossini, and within the main menu are a handful of creations designated as having "made the reputation of the Everest."
Among these is a salmon souffle appetizer, an homage to Auberge de L'Ill, the Alsace restaurant that launched Joho's career. The dish consists of a small filet of salmon wrapped in an ethereal salmon mousse made with so many eggwhites it achieves a souffle-like volume. Browned on the outside, the mousse resembles a pastry crust but has the texture of fine silk, and it keeps the salmon beautifully moist.
One of Joho's great gifts is his ability to raise peasant ingredients to royal status, as he does with a cream of cabbage soup. Actually it's not precisely cabbage soup, but a creamy broth of Alsatian sauerkraut that's ladled over finely diced vegetables and small triangles of smoked sturgeon. For a touch of luxury, Joho places a dollop of creme fraiche, topped with osetra caviar, in the middle of the bowl.
We went conservative on the entrees, or so I thought, with a sauteed veal chop, the meat sliced off the bone and smothered in black-trumpet mushrooms. But the innocuous-sounding herb-crusted lamb was a revelation--three flawless rib chops in a light jus fortified with cardamom, served with flageolet beans in a buttery cream sauce and toasted cauliflower seasoned with turmeric and a light curry blend.
Another Joho trick is creating desserts out of vegetables. On my visit, he offered a composition of parsnip, placing the aromatic vegetable in three sweet guises: as part of a moist spice cake, incorporated into a light custard with a caramelized-sugar lid, and as an ice-cream flavoring. Bold concept, perfect execution--what else could one ask for? Well, if one were my wife, one would request--and receive--Everest's chocolate souffle, which in taste and texture is like a chocolate cloud.
Everest has a world-class wine list that's the equal to its world-class cuisine, and a stellar sommelier in Alpana Singh, whose wine knowledge belies her tender years. Everest's wine list is a fun read, but for a romantic dinner I recommend leaving the wines to Singh while focusing your gaze on more important things.
Everest
440 S. LaSalle St.
312-663-8920
Open: Dinner Tue.-Sat.
Entree prices: $32-$46; seven-course degustation menu $89.
Extras: Complimentary valet parking; no smoking.
Phil Vettel is the Tribune restaurant critic.
Originally published Feb. 5, 2003.
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