Schwa Song

In the twelve years since Michael Carlson created Schwa, jolting the city’s dining scene with a completely new take on how fine dining can be done, the commitment to vision still seemed thoroughly intact last weekend.   

If you’ve never been and only know what you’ve read about the restaurant, you may still be surprised when you enter the space.  Stripped of all the finery normally associated with sophisticated dining, you’re essentially in the middle of the dining room floor as soon as you cross the threshold.  There’s a small wind break that shields the room from direct contact with the outside world; but the room itself is remarkably small.  Lighting is low, walls are dark and those already seated and in the throes of the experience seem to be having a delightful time.  You immediately notice the laughter and the excellent hip hop/dance leaning music spilling from restaurants speakers.

Everything’s spare, efficient and reveals a knowing eye for essential beauty.  Attractive doesn’t have to be soft and polished.  Sometimes it can come with a harder edge and feature bare light bulbs and painted walls that look like they’d be right at home in a turn of the century gentleman’s club. 

Waiters are chefs and chefs are waiters without necessarily looking the part of either.  In black T-shirts, baseball caps and bandanas, the absence of pretense is refreshing and novel.  You get the sense that each person on staff is an invested ambassador who can give you in depth back stories on each dish if they weren’t so busy on the floor and in the back

The food is all you’d hope for in the best of the best.  Painstakingly inventive, there almost seems to be a conscious decision to lather each course in layers of complexity.   Menu descriptions only scratch the surface of what’s being plated.  The first Welcome to Schwa course beautifully typifies what that means.  It’s current configuration still uses a long wooden board with piped cream-textured dots and dashes running across it. Reminiscent of the muted colors of fall, the design is Morse code spelling at times “welcome” and others “Chicago”. This night the restaurant has decided to employ perfect golden puffs of hollow bread as the course’s wing men. A small glass cup of clarified chocolate is on hand to help slide it all down.  It’s a startling presentation and you’re not really sure how to attack it.  Fortunately, a young woman at the next table volunteered her expertise.  Break the bread and swipe it through a portion of the “code”.  Then pop in your mouth.  Bliss.  The cardamom and curry waltz lovingly over your tongue while the bread adds texture and warmth. Sips of warm chocolate ideally balance to the course’s soft toned spices. 

If the evening’s room is any clue, Schwa enjoys a large and youthful following that may be a byproduct of its casual accessibility and its comfort with the grit of contemporary life.

Each of the ten following courses continued to either marvel or delight; often both.  The ravioli with truffle, ricotta and quail egg was bold, assertive and Cartier classy.  The black cod dressed in mole Amarillo, stinging nettles and white copal, whether considering flavor, texture or complementary profile accents, was perfect in every detail.

Probably the most unusual dish centered on the varied dimensions of corn.  Tiny edible flowers are tucked in a halo of maize surrounding a corn broth with a single agnolotti pasta packet filled with popcorn submerged below.  The dish’s sweetness is almost brazen but carefully muted by the neutral texture and taste of the maize. 

Protein is well represented in the menu’s roster.   Caviar, the superb cod, sweetbreads, an exceptional lamb ingeniously prepared with coconut and green curry followed one after another in unhurried procession.       

The longer you linger over your meal, observing and absorbing the room, appreciating the knowledgeable and open staff; it’s no wonder thoughts begin to wander to opportunities for a return.  Don’t be alarmed if you also wonder what kind of leftovers may be in the fridge when you get home.  Schwa doesn’t use an “insurance” course that’s noticeably more substantial to guarantee even the most demanding appetite is satisfied.  With the restaurant generally introducing a new dish every month, you’ll still find yourself mulling over the thought of a new reservation to check out what’s rolling out of that tiny magic kitchen.

Schwa

1466 N. Ashland Ave.

Chicago, IL  60622

773-252-1466