By Michael Philippi
Ungaretti & Harris • Restaurant Critic
Creole food is fresh seafood, slow braised meats and hard to find treats like rabbit or quail accompanied with complex and delicious sauces served on fine china in storied rooms themed in oak and antiques on elegantly set and spaced white- clothed tables with sparkling stemware. Cajun food is served at the bar, on whatever plates are handy, with a big, icy Abita. And the Crystal isn't the wine glasses, it's the jug of hot sauce to douse your crawfish tails. Truth is that, same as people, they are pretty much the same, one is just dressed up a little better.
I love New Orleans. Food, music and history combine with shockingly resilient, spiritual people to provide an overflow of sensory treats. Now that Southwest zips you down there in under two hours you have no excuse. Get on the plane. Look at Bourbon Street, then get the hell off of it and see the real town. If you need any tips, give me a call.
Our town, with more great steak houses, Italian classics and noodle shops than you can shake a spring roll at, is sadly lacking in quality New Orleans cookeries. Thank God the late, great Charlie Orr and his culinary kindred spirit Jimmy Bannos came to town when they did. You can't write a column about Cajun food in Chicago without starting with Heaven On Seven or "H7" (hey, if Nine can be N9ne …), which, for my money, is still the best bowl of gumbo anywhere (yes, Brennan family and Commander's Palace, anywhere) . Like most good things it starts with a roux, this one's thick, brown and smooth. Lots of places serve gumbo with a thin, soupy "broth" (hint — if someone talks about your gumbo broth, you haven't made gumbo).
H7's is thick and warm, moderately spiced and chock-full of andouille, okra and all the other good stuff that go into a gumbo. Not hot enough for you? You have more than 1,300 hot sauces. Pick one.
The flagship diner, tucked away in the historic Garland Building, is still a happily bustling oasis — all the better now with adult beverages — and it has spawned offshoots all over the city. They all serve the same great po' boys, fried oyster salad, red beans and rice. But nothing beats the unstated ambiance of an old dive diner hidden away just where it belongs — in the middle of a tired, but proud, Wabash Avenue. It's a gem that somehow — way, way before it was cool — became a little escape on cold January days and all the rest of the days, too. Jimmy, we love the Pig, think Salatino's is an instant classic, but thank you for leaving Heaven on Seven the way it is supposed to be.
And then there is Maple Tree Inn. Charlie Orr, who died too soon about a year ago had great advice about wine. "Do you know when white wine is the best?" He growled and then winked, "When you are out of red wine." Charlie's motto was "sit long, talk much" and that is just what you have to do here.
Daughter Katie took over awhile back and has the place humming. She added her fingerprints to what was already a masterpiece; fingerprints like 26 (not a typo) craft brews on tap with another dozen or so in bottles; like BBQ Tuesdays with slow-cooked brisket and ribs; like down-home Dixieland bands on the huge and breezy screened porch. She got husband Erich — with an oyster in his heart and mischief in his eye — to work the kitchen. He churns out dishes like Oysters 2x2x2 — a double helping each of spicy Bienville, spinach-crisped Rockefeller and smooth Deviled or incredible Oysters Charlie — plump little suckers, lightly breaded and broiled in asiago cheese and more than a dollop of garlic butter. Tower of pork is a Flintstone-sized, fall-off-the-bone shank slow, slow, slow braised sitting atop a plate of andouille and eggplant smothered in a just right roux. Blackened prime rib with a horseradish crust is decadent — and with truth in advertising, the menu promises to trim off all the fat that Erich feels "is reasonable." Try the blackened catfish, two generous filets atop a pile of risotto swimming in warm, hearty crawfish tail roux. Bring the vegetarian along too, she can have the Salad Gruyere, a big plate of crisp, mixed greens tossed with sweet, spiced, roasted pecans and chunks of sharp asiago in a vinaigrette or equally delicious romaine heart and roasted beets with walnuts, just enough red onion bits and plenty of crumbled gorgonzola mixed up in a light evoo vinaigrette.
Did I mention the bar? Walking into this warm happy place is its own treat. In Blue Island (yes, Blue Island, don't be a wimp, if I can go to Evanston, you can go to Blue Island), just off the canal, the building is circa 1880s and is said to have lived previous incarnations as a bordello and a speakeasy. Walk in through the heavy, red, velvet curtain and you are greeted, first by the enormous polished oak and brass bar with its huge ornate oak and mirror backdrop and second by Emily, who can and will lovingly explain each one of those beers to you like she made them herself. She might give you a taste, then a flight, then a glass. She also makes a fine Cajun martini if you dare.
Pleadings:
Maple Tree Inn
13301 S. Olde Western Ave, Blue Island
(708) 388-3461
Court costs:
Appetizers: $6.50-$12
Entrees: $15-$25
Verdict:
4 Gavels