Cafe Iberico

Enthusiastic recommendations for Cafe Iberico have come from several corners: including dumb kid brother, a U. of Chicago alum now residing in L.A., my best friend who really knows how to chow down (though she was recently mocked by the bastard consultant at an AYCE sushi dinner), this crazy Taiwainese girl I know and love, and two old ladies at the bus stop outside of the Lincoln Park Zoo.

Am I total food snob? Foodie I may refuse to be, and I know I'm a curmudgeon, but I never thought I'd be the grumbling old lady of the restaurant scene. Extraordinary is not the word that comes to mind when I think of my dining experience at Cafe Iberico. Fine would be more likely to pop up.

We started with an Ensalata Mixta (Spanish style mixed salad with asparagus, beets, hearts of palm, and red onion dressed with the restaurant's vinaigrette and wine dressing), which was nice after the chili cheese fries at Chicago's Dog House.

Gambas al Ajillo (grilled shrimp with olive oil, garlic and wine) is always good, but the shrimp didn't have the slight charring one hopes for with grilled foods, and this honey is single and isn't adverse to even more garlic.

Add to fried calamari and stir fried green beans, bacalao croquettes. Ordered them at Back Forty: not extraordinary; ordered them at Cafe Iberico: just plain bad; and ordered them at Casa Mono: look out for a future blog post. The croquettes were almost gluey in the center with almost no discernible taste of the salt cod. The aioli was too loose and could have had more saffron. Duped by a special.

Almejas en Salsa Verde (small clams sautéed with shallots, white wine and parsley) was fine. The clams were a tad gritty, but I'm not a stickler for dodging the dirt. I didn't like the sauce. It looked like the restaurant had thickened it, and I really didn't see the point. It was not bread sop-worthy.

Pulpo a la Plancha (grilled octopus with potatoes and olive oil) was actually grilled octopus with french fries, but the octopus at least was good. The fries were decent too, but more on their own, and I'm not sure they made sense with the octopus. If anything, it was difficult to hunt down the tasty charred octopus chunks amongst the potato in the dim lighting.

I will say this about Cafe Iberico, it attracts a good crowd. People seemed really happy at the restaurant, and I saw all sorts of personality groups come to share stories with good friends: the three young ladies in sun-dresses, the table of Asian businessmen in a uniform of polo shirts and khakis, the ladies night out spanning at least two generations, and the three thuggy Chinese guys in t-shirts and baseball caps.

Cafe Iberico, 739 N. LaSalle Dr., Chicago, IL 60610, 312-573-1510