Nobody Beats the Whisk at Zuni

Now there have been two occasions over the past 10 years where nothing else seems appropriate other than a midday meal at Zuni, and on both occasions I've had variations on the humble chicken egg that will withstand another 10 years of countless unmemorable meals, peppered with standouts.

The last, last time, I was joined Paul Festa and James Roe (and perhaps even someone else, I don't remember) and I had poached eggs with chimichurri -- the kind of eggs that are dropped in a centrifuge of boiling water and cooked in seconds. That was awesome, and on the same footing as my recent frittata, the simplest preparation of eggs, shallots, shaved pecorino, arugula and balsamic vinegar. Dynamite. I also had oysters. Barely made it back to the courtroom to finish out my jury duty.

The only point of contention was the too-rich, too-spendy Chardonnay, recommended by the server (who perhaps was looking to serve lunch to the too rich to care). What struck me most was contrast in the class habitus, if you will, of the dining room and the courtroom. Everyone has a jury-duty story, and like real-estate or DMV stories almost all are boring, and mine wasn't really different -- a trip-and-fall case on Caltrain. Still, there's something weird and interesting when 30 or so people have to get together and talk for a few nerve-racking minutes about themselves.

There were just as many single people as coupled people and divorced people. Some were native San Franciscans; others had been here five years. The economy had run roughshod over various attendees, yet there also was an immigrant engineer, a woman who did purchasing for boys' clothes at the Gap, a guy who did historic restorations and someone who retired from bridge repair for Caltrans.

But look at the sidelined potential in our workforce: One guy in the jury box said he'd been on SSI for 20-some years; a lady behind me gasped. A hipster said he worked at a café. When asked about it, he acknowledged being the assistant manager. (Why not just say so?) One of his housemates this or that and the other, well, he had no idea. Everyone laughed. Another guy was trying to go to school while teaching dance a few times a week. The cute brunette who graduated with a degree in sociology a few years ago is but an assistant to the administrator at a law firm. Maybe they're all happy as clams; what the hell do I know. Sitting at Zuni, though, it's hard not to feel like a hothouse flower -- with the table linen, the shellfish and Chardonnay and elegant eggs with a sheen of shallots, shaved cheese, tiny arugula leaves and a few drops of balsamic.

Good thing the parties settled; plaintiff sought redress and apparently got it before any more public resources were squandered. Which brings me back to why service is interesting and also weird: It's like a temporary case study of how we all make our way in the world, glorious and messy.

Fat City, I

I come not to berate Chicago, but to praise it. Maybe at this point in my 30s the years are flying by and the food is just getting way better everywhere without you noticing it outside your bubble. I had many excellent evening eats in the broad-shouldered town.

Kicking it off right Saturday night on Michigan Ave., we were pointed to The Gage and escorted without a reservation or any such thing past the bar and booths into a dining room. A little secluded, but that changed in short order. People were coming out to eat, and the room warmed up. Table neighbors ask about appetizers. I couldn't resist and started with the Scotch egg, which is hard-boiled egg stuffed into ground sausage, then breaded and deep-fried.

What really kicked it up a notch were the mustards, a touch of hot Dijon on the top and six inches away on the rectangular plate, a generous helping of deli mustard. Also, what's the point of getting on a plane if you're not dipping into something regional, unhealthy and delicious? Don't forget to pair with beer. (Pic at right purloined off someone's Flickr.)

Skipping ahead a bit -- the menu is organized as firsts, seconds, thirds, etc. -- I then savored the salad of braised rabbit, which is something Ward Little could do at South Park Cafe or any of the other bistros hitting all the right notes. This was perfect, with some morsels tender and some others a little crackled, tossed with frisee and another green I can't remember because I was forking at it so fast.

K went for The Gage burger, which at $16 is more than the regular one, but the difference isn't six bucks but sirloin instead of ground chuck. The bowl of fries was enough for three, maybe four people, and were perfect. We even got a little Indian-spiced gravy to dip in.

My main course was a special, grilled striped bass, and this was reminiscent of Evvia, only sauced a little spicier, paired with a big pour of a Vin de Pays d'Oc pinot. Big success, like Chicago in general.

The place is a bit hidden across from Millennium Park, and works even if you just want to watch the game and nosh at the bar. A couple of nights I thought I'd pop back in for a Negroni, but as usual I got distracted elsewhere. More to come.

Yuck? Scrambled Eggs and Anchovies

I used white anchovies, the kind marinated in a vinagry brine, not the salty brown slivers from the tin. This is probably cheating, because I can eat anchovies all by themselves. But I wondered if the textures of scrambled eggs and soft salty fish would mesh. They did, but I think a key is to scramble the eggs to firmness with even a bit of brown around the edges. Runny scrambled eggs and anchovies would be less appealing, though it certainly wouldn't stop me.

Faux Sonora-style Eggs

This is adapted from El Cholo's Sonoran-style plating. Eggs cooked any which way will do. The secret is in the stacking.

3 scrambled eggs with avocado, tomato and cheese or whatever
2 cups of cooked rice and black beans
chopped spinach
a couple of corn-wheat tortillas from TJ's
hot salsa

First I sautee a shallot in a little olive oil and butter, then make the eggs, throwing in cheese first and then the avocado and tomato once they set a bit.

Blacken the tortillas on the burner a bit, and then set on warmed plates. Spoon around some rice and beans on that base; sprinkle on chopped spinach (if you want to add sour cream, do that here), and then top with the eggs from pan.

Dress with some habanero-lime salsa from TJ's, and you're done. Permutations abound.