OyChicago articles

Rating: Four Stars 

Custom House, a bright twist on the traditional steak house

For anyone who loves Chicago history, one of the most exciting periods occurred in 1871 after the Great Chicago Fire, when the  Custom House Levee District  flourished. Filled with saloons, brothels and gaming houses, and home to the genesis of the classic pay-for-votes politics, the Levee District was an oasis of sin and sensual pleasures. The higher class bordellos were as famous for the quality of their food and wine as they were for the charms of their girls, and the area we now know as Printer's Row spent a glorious thirty-five years reigning as the place to experience carnal delights of every sort.

As the epicenter of the American meat industry, Chicago's stockyards made us Sandburg's 'hog butcher to the world.' Eras like the heyday of the Levee District gave Chicago a reputation as a city of outlaws, wild characters and excitement. And events like the  Century of Progress Columbian Exposition and World's Fair  marked Chicago as a place of innovation, artistry and progress.

So it should be no surprise that Chef/Owner  Shawn McClain , winner of the  James Beard Best Chef  -Midwest Award and a chef who had nothing to prove to this city after the success of his hotspots  Spring  and  Green Zebra , has managed to meld three of Chicago's most famous attributes in  Custom House . McClain has taken the concept of a traditional steak house, and with a combination of classic technical skill and broad artistic vision, has transformed it into a place that both honors its origins and explodes preconceptions…and done it in the heart of what used to be the infamous Levee District.

The open dining room at Custom House, with its tall ceilings and wide windows, erases the idea of the dark paneled rooms one usually expects when one thinks of a steak house. A wall of stone, softened by light fabric on the chairs, and simple elegant lighting is warm and welcoming. Starters are an embarrassment of riches, and deciding between them is a Herculean task. After consulting with our server, we choose the Quail, Smoked Rainbow Trout, and the special of the evening, a Goat Leg Tart.

Some delicious Custom House starters

The quail, simply roasted and served with a caramel balsamic reduction and a cippoline onion beignet, is perfect. The skin crisp and well seasoned, the meat cooked medium, highlighting the mellow gaminess of the tiny bird, a hint of sweet savoriness from the light drizzle of sauce. And the 'onion beignet' is quite simply the best onion ring either of us has ever tasted. Frankly, I'd like a basket of them and some barbeque sauce to dip them in. (Which is something I'd never actually request, but a girl can dream.) 

The tart, a layer of pastry topped with caramelized onion, braised goat leg and baby leeks, is well executed, the meat deeply flavored, the onions sweet. We both wished the pastry was crisper to balance the softness of the toppings, but ultimately it was still a successful dish flavor-wise. But both of these were eclipsed by the Smoked Trout, a light salad with slivers of radish and celery-bacon vinaigrette, served on a cauliflower panna cotta. It is a dish neither of us would have ordered, but for the recommendation of our server, and it was by far the favorite. Served with buttery brioche toast sticks, it is the kind of dish that makes you smile with its inventiveness. The creamy cauliflower panna cotta, much more subtle than we had anticipated, is the ideal foil for the trout, smoked in-house, tender and flavorful. We have the 2006 Tavel Rose; the crisp clean wine with hints of strawberry is great with all three dishes.

For entrees, being a steak house, some beef was in order, and the Australian raised New York Strip with bone marrow maitre'd butter and roasted cippoline onions did not disappoint. The steak, aged 80 days, rivals any you will find at more traditional places, with the rich bone marrow butter putting it right over the top. We were leaning toward the halibut, but our clearly psychic server insisted on the sturgeon, and once again her advice was impeccable. The fish, served in a light morel mushroom broth, was tender and mild, a fish neither of us had tasted before and would definitely order again. Sides are designed to share, but making up your mind will be tough!  We tasted a decadent oxtail risotto, which, when paired with the sturgeon became an inspired surf and turf. Creamed spinach, which actually tasted of spinach and not just cream, was enriched with parmesan bread crumbs and tiny cubes of fried celery root. Asparagus became a meal in itself, wrapped in prosciutto and anointed with black truffle.

But the hands-down favorite, again a recommendation from our server-cum-guru, was the Pommes Anna, thinly sliced potatoes layered with ricotta and house-smoked bacon. My giddy companion referred to it as potatoes au gratin on crack. And yes, you will crave more the minute the plate is empty. And my mother would disown me if I didn't tell you to order the Bulghur Wheat, which is her favorite thing on the menu! With this feast, the 2005 D & S Proprietary Red, a gloriously chewy California wine with tones of blackcurrant and chocolate, smoothed the edges.

Desserts were a rich warm toffee date cake, a tasting of three ice creams (white coffee, balsamic caramel, and triple chocolate) and a mini lemon Bundt cake. All delicious, with the exception of the balsamic caramel ice cream, which, though we were looking forward to it, had a strange and unwelcome aftertaste.

Don't forget the dessert! 

Custom House is the sort of place you can return to again and again, the menu changes daily. And without question, let the exceedingly knowledgeable waitstaff influence your dining and drinking decisions, they will introduce you to some amazing new flavors.

Nosh of the week:  One thing about food, there are trends, some enduring (Caesar salad in some form is still on menus highbrow and casual alike), some not (when was your last fondue party?). And certain ingredients come in and out of vogue like hemlines. But sometimes you find something that on first taste you know will become a staple of your kitchen. And for me, that new ingredient is Grains of Paradise. An African spice, which is similar to a pepper, but more closely related to cardamom, is my new go-to pal in the kitchen. I'm not a huge fan of black pepper, finding it often too bitter or its heat too powerful for the style of cooking I prefer. But this glorious spice, without the overpowering heat, and with both floral and citrus tones, highlights everything it touches. Salads are heightened, meats are enhanced, and even more surprising, fruits like pineapple and strawberries are taken to a whole new place with just a light grinding.

Available at Whole Foods, or online at www.worldspice.com , it is the kind of flavor that will uplift the everyday, and inspire you to experiment. Use it wherever you would use black pepper to start, and then let your imagination lead you. And just to prove that I am as cutting edge as I think I am, Sam Adams Summer Ale proudly lists Grains of Paradise as an ingredient. I might have to have one now. And if you find the perfect recipe for it, be sure to post it on the message board for the rest of us.

Nosh food read of the week: 
The Sharper Your Knife, the Less You Cry  by Kathleen Flinn 

Yours in good taste.
Stacey

www.staceyballis.com

The cast of The Kid from Brooklyn--The Danny Kaye Musical

Long before Adam Sandler and Sasha Baron Cohen became famous for their impersonations and manic comedic styles, there was Danny Kaye, a Jew from Brooklyn who made it big in Hollywood.

Born David Daniel Kaminsky, the son of an immigrant Ukrainian tailor, Kaye got his early experience as a comedian on the Borscht circuit of summer hotels and camps in the Catskills. After changing his name, Kaye made a name for himself when he became the first man to sing a song naming 54 Russian composers in 38 seconds in “Tchaikovsky,” from the Broadway musical “Lady in the Dark.” With the help of his wife, and composer-lyricist Sylvia Fine, Kaye went from an undisciplined improvisational comic, to a star on Broadway, in film and television and on radio. With his nimble tongue, goofy expressions and imitations, Kaye was undoubtedly an entertainer ahead of his time.

And from now through August 24, Chicago audiences can relive the life and career of Danny Kaye in, The Kid From Brooklyn—The Danny Kaye Musical. The production’s writer, director and producer, Peter Loewy, and Brian Childers, who stars in the production as Danny Kaye, have not only created a nostalgic retelling of the Kaye’s story, they have brought him back to life for the next generation.

“I have been obsessed with Danny Kaye since I was a young child growing up in New Jersey,” Loewy says. “I always wanted to put together something about his life, but I needed to find the right Danny.”

Then Loewy stumbled upon Childers who was selected by a director in Washington D.C. to play Kaye in another production, Danny and Sylvia.

“I did not seek out this role,” Childers says. “I like to say it sought me out.”

Childers prepared for the role using anything and everything he could get his hands on, watching Kaye’s movies, checking out You Tube clips and speaking with people who knew Kaye. Though capturing Kaye’s personality and gestures was a “mammoth task,” he said he loves and embraces the role.

“I don’t like to call it an impersonation,” Childers says. “I’m trying to capture his very essence, to bring Danny to life.”

Deciding just how to bring Danny Kaye back to life on stage was another mammoth task, considering his expansive and incredible repertoire.

“How do you put 74 years into a two and a half hour production?” Loewy says. “We focused on classic songs and classic sketches, and at the same time developed a story around the darker side of Danny Kaye and showed how his wife, Sylvia Fine, drove him in the right direction.”

In addition to highlighting Kaye’s career, the show also sheds light on his personal life, particularly his manic behavior and depression, and makes subtle reference to his longtime affair with fellow actress Eve Arden, and even alludes to a romantic relationship with Lawrence Olivier.

Later in life, Loewy said, Kaye reconnected with his Jewish roots and also became very active with UNICEF. “In Hollywood, it became a very assimilated lifestyle for him,” he says. But After the Six Day War, he became a staunch supporter of Israel, turning down a performance with Olivier in London to stay in Israel after the war. He also won a Peabody award for his portrayal of a Holocaust survivor in the TV movie “Skokie,”

“I think that was the pinnacle for him of his career and, in the end, he really found his Jewishness,” Loewy said.

Kaye’s story is connecting with Jewish audiences all over the country, and this is why Loewy chose to bring the production to Chicago.

“I thought with the Jewish population here that it would be the perfect place to try the show again; the audience response has been better than ever,” he said. “We’ve had a lot of kids see the show here and they love it. In Chicago it’s the youngest audience we’ve seen—we’re really crossing over the (age) barrier.”

Directed by Loewy, with book by Mark Childers and Loewy and musical direction by Charlie Harrison and David Cohen, The Kid From Brooklyn stars Helen Hayes Award Winner Childers as Danny Kaye and Karin Leone as Sylvia Vine, with Christina Purcell and Adam LeBow. The show was first produced in Ft. Lauderdale and the Chicago engagement follows a sell-out run in Los Angeles. After leaving Chicago, the production will head to Palm Desert, California, and hopefully will debut in New York in the spring of 2009.

The Kid From Brooklyn is now playing at the Mercury Theater, 3745 N. Southport Avenue. Tickets are priced at $42.50 for Wednesday and Thursday performances and $48.50 for performances Friday through Sunday and are available by phone at (773) 325-1700 or online at  www.thekidfrombrooklynmusical.com .

Dana, falling in love in Caesaria, 1995.

My dear friend Aaron has finally fallen in love. He is a 39-year old Chicagoan; she’s an editor in Tel Aviv with strong sabra roots. He’s asking me for advice.

Some days I want to tell him marriages between Americans and Israelis should be outlawed. Other days I want to say, follow your heart—just don’t expect it to be easy.

Last month I broke my foot while running to catch the 7:41 train to work. My fellow commuters politely minded their own business, peering at me over the tops of their Wall Street Journals as I hopped across the train station in search of ice. Two people asked if I was okay, but didn’t wait for my answer.

Back home after a quick trip to the ER, my Israeli husband ranted on the phone to his mama, eight time zones away.  Aizeh Amerikayim karim! Loosely translated: Americans are cold and heartless. He also thinks we’re cheap.  He thinks we’re bad drivers. He thinks we, collectively as a country, need to have more sex. Most of all, he thinks the weather sucks.

Hail. Tornados. (Taxes!) Blizzards. Floods. His brain still functions in Celsius, but his inventory of American evils rolls off his tongue as though he is reciting the ten plagues at Passover.

Ketushot. Qassam rockets. Suicide bombers. Miluim . I’m quick to counter, there’s crappy weather everywhere, my dear.

I never gave much thought to these kinds of differences at age 24, when I developed a whopping crush on the security guard who worked the night shift at the absorption center in Northern Israel. I was the silent, shell-shocked WUJS volunteer trying to put my fresh MSW to good use. He was the shy guy with a gun who loved chick flicks, turtles and his mama. We barely spoke the entire three months, but that didn’t stop me from coming home to America and telling my poor mother, this is the one.

For me, long distance love meant writing my first poem in Hebrew, listening to David Broza music until my batteries died, paying scary big phone bills and taking a couple trans-Atlantic quickies. . . then waiting for the post-trip glow to fade to melancholy.

Two years later, he quit his job, sold his car, bought a one-way ticket to America (a country he had never visited), and moved in with me (a woman he had technically never gone out on a date with). Did I mention he barely spoke English?

Language barriers are real and I was the world’s least patient English tutor. For months, he called the kitchen a chicken and ordered Sesame Street bagels at our local Dunkin Donuts. Just make some flash cards, I urged.

During his first year in America, I dragged him to Chinese cooking classes, yoga and Cubs games. We drove down Highway One, cruised under Niagara Falls and posed with Mickey Mouse on both coasts. Sure you miss your family, sweetheart, but see what a beautiful country this is?

Despite our long road trips, he never learned the Brady Bunch theme song or developed a taste for peanut butter. Who needs it when there is hummus?  Pop culture aside, our childhood experiences were also vastly different. And sometimes I just don’t get it.

How can I really get what it is like sharing a tiny bedroom with your sister for the first 17 years of your life? Until the day you leave for the army, where you spend three years parachuting over borders and scuba diving under borders and doing things you still can’t (or won’t) talk about. His memories wake us both up at night.

How can I understand what it is like having a dad who survived the Holocaust, went on to fight in three Israeli wars, manufacture weapons, storing precious little extra cash under his mattress, and now, at age 72, refuses to leave his house?

My dad’s weapon of choice was a stethoscope. He settled us in a nice house in a nice suburb by a nice lake. He took us to Neil Diamond concerts and the Joffrey ballet. And when the good doctor had his mid-life crisis, he went back to school to earn an MBA.

Both dads came together at our wedding nine years ago and both were proud.

The truth is, I’m the one who broke the deal. Five years here was supposed to be followed by five years there, which was supposed to be followed by a decision. But life happened. At some point, I stopped adding papers to my aliyah file. We stopped speaking Hebrew, except during fights. We bought real furniture. He told his bitchy boss she was a bitch—and got fired. I got promoted.  We signed a mortgage. He told his asshole boss he was an asshole—and got fired. He started a business out of the garage and grew it from nothing to something.  Baby girl number one was quickly followed by baby girl two. And here we are still in Chicago.

I’m the first to admit how heartwarming it is to see my two baby girls and their devoted Abba dancing their hearts out on Shavuot on a kibbutz in the Galilee. I love how they run around barefoot, as soon as their jet lag wears off, playing with their Israeli cousins and assorted Israeli stray cats. Our five-year old pauses to tell us she wants to be a veterinarian—or a vegetarian—when she grows up. The thing is, in my mind, she can be a vet and a veg and a million other things, but IDF soldier is not high on my list.  

In the meantime, I HATE Chicago remains a daily refrain from November until May. I remind myself how much he has given up. I take comfort in reading academic research which grounds yesterday’s fights in legitimate cultural differences. I listen to wise people tell me that it is not easy for anyone. Even if you married your clone, it would still take work.

So the next time I break my foot, I’ll aim for the Tel Aviv central bus station, where the falafel vendor will rush over with ice, the young soldier will sling his Uzi over his shoulder and dig deep in his dusty backpack for gauze, and some old Yemenite Jew will crouch down next to me on arthritic knees, squeeze my hand, stroke my cheek, and invite me over for dinner next Shabbat.

In our now 12-year debate on where we will live when we grow up, my husband scores the point for “more compassionate commuters," but I win for following my heart.

Written by Dana, with blessings from her husband (assuming he understood what he was agreeing to, which is questionable).

Let Sara Fiedelholtz be your guide to living in Chicago 

For the past 19 years, Sara Fiedelholtz has been involved in various creative endeavors including magazine publishing, brand development and strategic planning. In 2004, Fiedelholtz launched the creative strategy firm thinkbox strategies, then in August 2007 she launched mint magazine:SOURCEBOOKS llc., a series of  annual subject-specific—think shopping, continuing education, beauty and food, to name a few—source guides for Chicago.

So whether you’re looking for the best manicure in the city, you’re a fan of Shabbat dinners or a fellow creative mind, Sara Fiedelholtz is a Jew you should know!

1. What did you want to be when you grew up?
I wanted to be a doctor or the first female president of the United States.

2. What do you love about what you do today?
I love the fact that I am able to use both sides of my brain. I love the fact that I get to think creatively but act strategically. I also love that I get to take a simple idea and turn it into a finished product from which an entire business can be built.

3. What are you reading?
Everyday I read the daily entry in Rabbi Joseph Telushkin’s The Book of Jewish Values: A Day-to-Day Guide to Ethical Living. I’m also reading Built to Last: Successful Habits of Visionary Companies by James Collins and Jerry Porras and The Nine Questions People Ask About Judaism by Dennis Prager and Joseph Telushkin

4. What’s your favorite place to eat in Chicago?
I am a big fan of the hamburgers and sweet potato fries at Uncommon Ground. I’m also a big fan of 200 East Chestnut--they have incredible homemade (just like bubbe’s) marinara sauce.

5. If money and logistical reality played no part, what would you invent?
A chemical to be added to the world’s water supply that would make people kinder toward each other.

6.Would you rather have the ability of fly or the ability to be invisible?
I would like to be invisible. As a journalist I can’t think of anything better than really being able to be a fly on the wall.

7. If I scrolled through your iPod, what guilty pleasure would I find?
I haven’t joined the 21st century, I still listen to CDs. I am a proud non-iPod owner. My CD collection does include: John Denver, Bob Marley, James Taylor, Carol King, Neil Diamond, Paul Simon and several movie soundtracks.

8. What’s your favorite Jewish thing to do in Chicago – in words, how do you Jew?
I like getting friends together for Shabbat dinner.

Ami James is talented, generous, handsome and... Jewish!

You may recognize Ami James as the sharp-tongued, hot- tempered tattoo artist from TLC’s Miami Ink.

I’ll admit I was slightly intimidated when I caught up with James at the new dana hotel and spa—a $60 million dollar, 216-room development at 660 N. State Street in Chicago, for which James was commissioned to design “Do Not Disturb” door hangers for each room—but I quickly discovered that underneath Israeli-born James’s tough, tattooed (and might I add, handsome) exterior, lies a talented artist with a big heart.

James hit it big in 2005 when TLC picked up his idea for a reality show following him and his three best friends as they opened a tattoo shop in Miami. “Like every other show, you shop around until a network picks it up,” James says. “TLC, they wanted to change The Learning Channel to something edgy.” Now in its fourth season, Miami Ink is one of the network’s most highly watched shows, bringing in between five and six million viewers each week and spawning spin-offs, LA Ink and London Ink.

Although the show’s website describes him as “the tough guy you don’t wanna mess with,” James says he is “nothing like [he’s characterized] on the show.”

“It’s really funny how everybody assumes you’re a certain person that’s portrayed on a TV show, but in a TV show you really are portrayed the way the editing room wants to portray you. You have no say,” he says. “I rarely scream at anybody, I never argue, but the show is only 40 minutes out of that whole week and they’ll focus on what they want to focus on.”

He says the network also wanted the show to center on sad stories of meaningful tattoos, and to shy away from the stereotypical image of a tattoo parlor drunks stumble into late at night and get some permanent body art they’ll regret the next morning.

“We’re trying to focus on educating the people and kind of putting a little more thought into the tattoos,” he says. “That’s where the stories evolve from, but we definitely didn’t want to make the whole show point out every sad story, but that’s what the network wanted. In reality, we tell a lot of happy stories, but I think it’s important to have a meaningful tattoo.”

Meaningful, yes, but specifically sentimental, no. He often deters people from getting tattoos of their girlfriends or wives’ names. “You know,” he says, “tattoos last longer than romance.”

James co-owns the tattoo shop with friend and co-star Chris Nuñez; the duo also co-own Love/Hate bar and the DeVille Clothing Company in Miami.

But wait, isn’t a Jew with a tattoo a taboo?

“God didn’t really go, you know guys, tattoos are not good, but piercings, nose jobs, boob jobs, ass jobs—those are all fine,” he says. “It’s really funny how you have all these super Jews running around with tons of plastic surgery at the age of 65 always stopping me and preaching to me that [Jews are] not supposed to get tattoos.”

“We aren’t supposed to desecrate our bodies no matter what, so follow the rules or don’t follow them at all.”

While James does not consider himself a religious Jew, he definitely will never forget where he came from.

Born in Sinai, James and his family moved to Tel Aviv in 1976 when Israel gave Sinai back to Egypt. When he was 12, he moved to Miami with his mom and brother, where he fell in love with tattoos as an art form and got his first one, a dragon, at age 15.

At 17, James returned to Israel to voluntarily join the Israeli Defense Forces. “All my friends I grew up with went into the army and I felt like I was running away from it and I didn’t want to be that guy,” he says. “It turned me into a man, but then you realize, even when you’re 21, you’re not a man yet.”

James says while he will never return to live in Israel full-time, he hopes to one day have a summer home there. “I love Israel,” he says. “I do hope that we’ll compromise one day and be able to live in peace because my whole life I’ve lived pretty much not in peace and I’ve watched how hard it is—I’ve watched friends die, I’ve watched soldiers die in my hands. One day, it’s gotta stop.”

After he got out of the IDF at 21, James came back to the States to become a tattoo artist. “I’ve always been an artist,” he says. “And I found a way to not be a starving artist.”

And if you still can’t embrace the softer side of James, his charity work and love for animals and children should do the trick.

“People do a lot of wrong these days, but kids and animals never do any wrong,” he says. “The two purist forms of heart and love the innocence of both makes me want to make a difference every day.”

James was the face of PETA’s “Ink, not Mink,” campaign and has also worked with Amigos for Kids and the Make-a-Wish Foundation.

“I don’t do it for recognition,” he says. “I really could give a shit if anybody knows. It really makes me feel good at the end of the day.”

In contrast to his love for animals and children, James hates the corporate world, something that drew him to this design project with Chicago’s new dana hotel.

“I like people getting out of the box and doing something different, especially eco-friendly hotels,” he says. “It’s cool to see people get involved in art. So when I was asked to do the “Do Not Disturb” signs for the doors—that would be the last thing I would ever think anybody would ask me to do—so as soon as I got approached to do it I was like, ‘hell yeah I have to do this.’ It’s just something that I really wanted to do.”

You'll find these edgy "Do Not Disturb" signs on your door at the new dana hotel and spa