Counsel’s Table: Age doesn’t define dining

By Russell B. Selman
Katten Muchin Rosenman • Restaurant Critic

Given that the annual Death Star Cotillion known as the summer associate program is about to begin at most firms, I thought I would help out by offering a few unsolicited thoughts.

First off, youngsters, understand that no one is honestly interested in what you might have to say. Indeed, you send the absolute wrong signal to the senior partners by shifting the focus away from them and how they see the world. Well, here goes. Given that the Baby Boomer cohort now controls law firms, I suggest you learn from their favorite TV show, ”American Idol.” Each of the Idol judges represent a partner archetype that, once understood, is your best guide to a prosperous summer experience.

Typical partners are like Randy. Full of well-worn phrases and wrinkles, the Randy-partners want associates just like themselves. Whenever the Randy-partners get enthusiastic, they do so for practical reasons — so you can make your best impression by simply making it clear that you want to be exactly like them.

Rarer than Randy, but omnipresent in the very large firm, is the Paula-partner. The Paulas are always happy the way a circus clown is delighted by a balloon. Most often, the Paulas run the summer program because no one would allow the Paula to do any work for their clients.

Then, there is the Simon. You probably will not meet the Simon. Some Simons had a Chappaquiddick or two in their early firm years, or worse, actually spoke at a partner’s meeting in mild opposition to whatever bandwagon-with-wheels-falling-off idea was rattling by. Now shunned, the Simon is not at all interested in you, either. Don’t even try to butter up Simon and don’t worry about his view of you since no one cares what he says anyway.

To be honest about it, I suppose it may be an issue of age — perhaps the summer associates remind us all just how we’ve changed. Similar chronologic and transitional thoughts hit me when I dined at OTOM.

OTOM is run by the people who operate Moto, located just next door, on the trendy/ sketchy Fulton Street Market. Both are ”experimental” restaurants. At Moto the experiments are grand-scale, Manhattan Project affairs.

But OTOM is still recognizable as a neighborhood restaurant where they still use food ingredients as the basis for erector-set efforts to prepare a meal.

That OTOM is for the young is immediately apparent. First, the curb-height from Fulton Street is thigh-high — I felt like I was having a post-50-year-old medical procedure just getting up to the front door. Once inside, the lounge and bar take up at least 50 percent of the dining room real estate. Yes, OTOM is set up for the grazing speed-daters.

We were ”Early Bird” early on two occasions. Meaning that before 8 p.m., OTOM is as empty as a firm shared-billing credit meeting. Honestly (oops!), the dining crowd was looking a little ”Chicago Symphony Orchestra.”

How the spry diners even made their way into OTOM, I don’t know. I became a little weepy-eyed thinking about the sacrifices of my grandparents, great-grandparents, and great-great-grandparents. All of these earlier generations were in attendance at OTOM, all were eating the same food, and all of them left in time for the CSO.

With the Greatest Generation’s departure, their heirs quickly filled the demi-room. As a ”Tweener” generationist, I went from blogger-young to Porsche middle-aged as the transitional crowd piled in — lots of pretty-people downing the inevitable rainbow-hued drinks and the sound levels pegged up faster than a Robert Altman film.

I expected not too much from the OTOM kitchen. After the high style of the neighborhood and the unlikely pairings of youth/age, I had a hard time actually waiting for the food to arrive before my critique began. The expected dronish march of so-so appetizers-entree-dessert ritual seemed very likely. But I was wrong. OTOM really did well.

A very lovely salmon ceviche served on wonton chips was enlivened with citrus. There was nothing elusive; the flavors were positively bright and elegant. The Lyonnaise salad was unlike any — with a sort of frozen bacony-egg mixed into the escarole. Entrees also won me over by their intensity, bested by the barbeque pork belly, which peeled off porky flavor all over the plate. A real winner.

Very good, too, was the jambalaya, piqued by the andouille sausage into a fragrant and elliptical whole.The summer season is upon us again, youth demands its place, and OTOM is the right table — if only the curb wasn’t so high.

Pleadings:
OTOM
951 W. Fulton St.
(312) 491-5804

Court costs:
Appetizers $8-$12; Entrees $18-$26

Verdict:
3 Gavels