Review Sat Jul 28 2012

My First Date with the Longman and the Eagle

By Brandy Gonsoulin

Ever since Longman and Eagle won its first Michelin star two years ago, it has become one of the destination spots for Logan Square. Hidden by a drab blue facade on a quiet street corner, it has managed to turn itself to a successful brand. After all the fuss that has gone on for the past two years, I had greater than average expectations walking in on a recent Saturday night; if L&E was all it was cracked up to be, I needed to be wowed.

It was less hipster-y than marketed (unless casual preppy is the new hipster?) but the crowd seemed like a nice blend and the bar was inviting, which is where the goodness started while I joined my group, who were already an hour into their wait (L&E doesn't take reservations). I'm one of those "surprise me" type of drink orderers. The bartender running the show didn't miss a beat, asking me whether or not I liked my drinks sweet, savory, herbaceous, refreshing, sour, etc. It's a line I'm sure that he uses on everyone, but I'm a sucker for well-executed lines. Refreshing and herbaceous, ding ding. I mention cucumber and his eyes sparkle -- he has to run down to the basement for this one. Somebody call home; I was in love (maybe we could lodge our wedding guests in the hotel upstairs). Minutes later, a cucumber caipiroska (freshly muddled cucumber, vodka, lime juice and simple syrup similar to a caipirinha but with vodka) landed into my hands. In this mixologist crazed time, I've had better drinks, but their attention to detail was kicking the night off to a good start.

The moment had arrived and the hostess led us to our table, which needed a candle or two... or three. Call it ambiance, but this was a little too understated. We settled on a Spanish red and tackled the menu, divided among bar snacks, small plates, salads and sandwiches and entrees. We decided on the warm cheese gougère with Dunbarton blue mornay sauce ($7), the beef tartare (Slagel Farm of course) with raw quail egg, capers, pickled shallot, rye toast and a spicy chili aioli ($16), the deconstructed rabbit pot pie with bacon wrapped loin, grain mustard fricassee and "vegetables that rabbits like to eat," aka turnips and carrots ($15), and the seared Maine day boat scallops with black truffle cream of wheat, beech mushrooms, pickled ramp bulbs, pea shoots and citrus emulsion ($28).

The gougère, a filled puff pastry that seems to be popping up on menus these days, was unimpressive. I was hoping that what lacked in presentation would win in flavor with the lava of cheese that I would encounter. It didn't. The puff pastry to cheese ratio seemed off with too much pastry and way too little cheese, and the cheese needed something else, like flavor (I'm gonna get hate mail for this one). My friends and I swooned over what a nice mushroom sauce would do for it, and that's when I started salivating. I appreciated the technique of making a hollowed out puff pastry, but considering the detail that went into the rest of the dishes we were served, I was confused by this anomaly.

Next was the beef tartare. Too small of a serving size for me to not giggle when it arrived (like a thimble on steroids) but exactly how beef tartare should be, and it was all we could do to stop ourselves from licking the chili aioli off the plate. If you want bang for your buck, this isn't it, but if you want a damn good beef tartare paired with the best chili aioli, this is your guy.

The deconstructed rabbit pot pie was good, even if the bacon overpowered the rabbit (there's a George Orwell joke in there somewhere), but it was the scallops with black truffle cream of wheat that regained the respect that I had lost from the gougère and the thimble-sized serving size of tartare. If I could somehow get a bowl of that just creamy, perfectly seasoned, starch of love, it would be my metaphorical bucket of ice cream after a break-up.

Still hungry after our four courses, I convinced my friends that we needed the buffalo sweetbreads with aerated ranch, which I had been eying. First of all, aerated ranch is awesome with a light texture that still retains the flavor of your childhood. Second of all, buffalo sweetbreads is like Wings 2.0 -- heck, 3.0. L&E rocked this one out, elevating your standard really bad messy bar food to a place of culinary sophistication. The sweetbreads were slightly crunchy yet soft, had just enough chew and seemed to disappear in your mouth. (The next day it would become the topic of conversation over previously said really bad wings). I crave them as I write this.

Knowing what I already knew about their reputation as the place to go for "good, chef worthy food without all the fuss," Longman & Eagle hit some home runs and foul balls. I do appreciate what chef Jared Wentworth is doing with his food from the ingredients to presentation, and now that he's on his head-to-tail kick, word has it that he's attacking the duck next. If you haven't been, check it out -- but bring the credit card unless you're down with drinking PBR all night and sticking to a burger. If dinner isn't your thing they serve brunch too, where you can get your eggs with or without a PBR; and I thought I was a rebel wanting to have a Bloody Mary before noon every Sunday.

Longman & Eagle
2657 N. Kedzie Ave.

Photo credit: yandp.tv.