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| Tasty-looking, but be warned: this is at 100X magnification. |
Premise: a restaurant so complexly wrong it can be enjoyed only as a psychosocial experiment, or a piece of masochistic experimental theater.
We went there this past Friday to celebrate dear friend G's birthday. The prices left us agog, the portions required a scanning electron microscope, the service was both fussy and arrogant, and the amuse-bouche served at the start of the meal was literally inedible. And I will eat ANYTHING.
This is one of those restaurants where the menu spells out every single ingredient in each dish (broccoli roots, lark eyeballs, etc.) - but it neglects to mention that the fish dish that G ordered (a pescatarian) is slathered with ham gravy. When G brought it up to the server, he was dissuaded from ordering it without the gravy because it was a "really integral part of the dish." - and then chided for not mentioning his special dietary needs.
Ten minutes later, the server accidentally poured G a glass of rose instead of the red Malbec he ordered, and when it was pointed out to him, he said, "There, now we've BOTH made a mistake." !!!! Really?! That's what you say to people who are paying $11 per person for something called "compressed melon," which turns out to be five (5) honeydew melon balls the size of Peanut M&Ms? Where falafel costs $19? Our table was breathless at the audacity of these and other remarks.
The entire experience felt like you'd walked into some kind of experimental interactive theater for foodie masochists. Somebody, somewhere, must get off on this sort of thing. In my book, when it comes to food, you have to hit on at least one of the following cylinders:
1. Tastiness.
2. Quantity: doesn't have to be Old Country Buffet, but you know what I mean. A certain amount of real estate on the plate. Five tiny melon balls is not a salad. You don't want to leave hungry.
3. Service: Don't be a jerkface.
4. Value: It's OK for food to cost money as long as it hits on cylinders 1 and/or 2.
The more of these cylinders you're firing on as a restaurant, the better things will be. I walked in and saw nothing I wanted to eat on the menu. I drank my dinner instead and had two of their tiny but delicious popovers. Oh, and the fabulous M gave me a bite of his tempura sweetbread, which again, was quite tasty, but about one-fourth the amount of food you would want to have at a normal meal. The portions were so small it shocked me that this table of men didn't immediately grab street food from the Midsommarfest going on right outside the doors on Clark Street. I should have done that or I would have felt better yesterday.
I do like to end on a good note. The cocktails were fine, intensely flavored and strong. I enjoyed a Hemingway (a very fresh, tart grapefruit daiquiri) as well as a topnotch Sidecar. Upstairs at Premise appears to be the in spot, as people in shiny clothes kept funneling up the stairs, while the first-floor dining room was nearly dead at 9:30 on a warm Friday night. So go there for cocktails if you must, but please, do yourself a favor and stay away from the food.
http://www.yelp.com/biz/premise-chicago
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