We had a Tuesday night devoted for destination dining followed by improv theater, but the dinner was far more stimulating than the stagework, even though the hype and expectations were higher about the eatery. I suppose some purists avoid the rooms overseen by A-list chefs, as if they are somehow tainted. ("Nobody goes there, it's too crowded" is kinda the idea.) There's also the pitfall of not getting seated and getting attitude for not being so-and-so. Let me report that Rick Bayless and his Frontera Grill aren't bothering with shortcuts in the kitchen or short shrift at the front of the house. The place is mobbed, even at 6 on a Tuesday, but we arrived without a reservation and were greeted and seated in minutes. Maybe it's the Chicago nice.
Bayless has even thought through the aperitifs, including one based on hibiscus that also takes soda and bitters. For starters he's letting people go at all the shellfish and ceviche they can stomach, as well as making some Mexican mainstays small and scrumptious. We shared the sopes, which are English muffins of corn masa made tiny, tiny and topped with braised beef and roasted tomatoes.
My main course was the birria, or shredded goat meat, along with some fixins for tacos, just like if you were at a barbecue or outdoor party. K had mesquite-grillled chicken for her tacos. ("It was like the whole village was in there," she recalls. "I could taste the whole freaking village.")
My sister-in-law says that she's been eating rice and beans her whole life, and that she doesn't need them wrapped up in a tortilla. With high-quality ingredients, seasoning and preparation, you also don't need to drown everything in refried beans and melted cheese. On behalf of the whole freaking village, a big thank you to everyone at Frontera.
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