TNDC: Currents on the River

Maybe the chef was out of town. Maybe, like the menu billed, he was cooking dinner for Van Halen or Madonna. Regardless, whoever was in the kitchen made crappy food.

TNDC was Meghan’s pick this week, and she chose Currents on the River, at Adams and Wacker. We thought it a lovely choice given a possible opportunity to sit outside on the river, the menu looked great online and you can’t beat the atmosphere. All wrong.

Prior to our arrival, we discovered the restaurant closed at 7 p.m. Very odd. But we were fine with it because I like to catch the earlier train the better, and Alyssa was leaving for a conference in the morning so she wanted to get home to pack. Neha was traveling again (South Carolina), and Amy was at the Cubs game, so it was just me, Meggie and Al.

Meghan and I met there for our obligatory cocktail, and the restaurant looked like a Holiday Inn lounge. Pretty pitiful décor, green carpet, standard-issue chairs. The restaurant was in the basement of an office building so we were eye-level with the river. No outside patio. But basically we were face-to-face with one of the boat tour boats, which apparently launched from the restaurant. And that’s when we realized we were possibly frequenting a tourist trap.

Al showed up around 5:30 p.m., and the bartender told us to sit anywhere. The restaurant was empty except for a going away party in the back so we took a table by the window so we could look at the river. About seven or eight minutes went by before anyone came over with menus or water. It wasn’t until Alyssa called the waiter over that he acknowledged us.

The front of the menu says the chef used to be the personal chef for Van Halen, The Eagles, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Rolling Stones, Janet Jackson and Madonna. So regardless of the sub-par atmosphere, we were looking forward to some good food.

Alyssa had eaten a late lunch so she just ordered a chopped salad. Didn’t hear any complaints there. Meghan ordered the Tuscan tortellini, which had grilled chicken, Italian sausage, roasted garlic, parmesan and a chicken veloute sauce. No immediate complaints or accolades awarded. I ordered a steak sandwich and made my opinion well known. The steak was cold. Not cold like it was supposed to be served cold. It was cold like it had been sitting there for awhile cold. It was supposed to have a mango chutney sauce on it and it seemed more like mango marmalade. So picture a steak sandwich with jelly on top. And nothing else. No tomato, lettuce, onion, cheese. It was nasty. Below is a picture of what I thought mango chutney looked like.

Post-nastiness occurred last night with Meghan, who was sick from her meal. “Epic restaurant fail,” she reported this morning.

Don’t go here. Even if you do the architectural tour on the river (which I highly recommend) find another restaurant.

She works hard for her money

I have unfortunately, unwillingly and disgustingly become someone who makes small talk at my office. Hi my name is Kelly, and I can be found in the elevator, kitchen or hallway discussing the weather or how it’s not Friday yet.

I realize this is part of working in corporate America, but I HATE it. I hate hate hate small talk. It’s mostly why I hate first dates. But at least on a first date you’re moving toward a smooch or something. In the office, that kind of talk moves toward nothing.

But I don’t know what to do about it! This is the first place I’ve worked where I don’t have a bestie. In Fort Wayne I always had at least seven people I could take a break with or have a real conversation with. Here, I’m by myself. Which, I’m fine with. I have a lot of friends outside of work here so it’s not as necessary for me to glom on to everybody and force them to be my friend, as has been the case in other cities I’ve lived. But the downside of that is I don’t know many people well enough to make anything deeper than small talk.

And I’m a journalist. There’s the expectation that every person will divulge the most personal details of their lives upon first meeting me.

The weather seems to be the number one topic here. Especially in Chicago. Where we are NEVER happy about the weather. Ever.

Every winter we are shocked, FLOORED that it’s cold out. And our hearts nearly stop when snow falls. And then spring comes and it rains. And we HATE rain. But then we pray for warmer weather and then it gets hot and we bitch and bitch and bitch about how hot it is and won’t it just cool down? And then it cools down and the cycle starts again.

This leaves about four variations of the same conversation to be had about the weather. Stimulating.

People who work in offices are also shocked on a daily basis that it is not, in fact, Friday yet. And they express this with others to have some sort of commiseration club about how we’re stuck at work and “everybody’s workin’ for the weekend” and how “I don’t want to work, I just want to bang on de drum all day.”

Le sigh.

I’ll cap this off with the awkward walk down the hallway scenario. I’m always confused with when I should acknowledge there is someone else coming down the same hallway. We both see each other. But then it’s weird to keep walking and stare each other in the eyes until we get closer. So I try to look away until I get almost next to them and then do the casual “hi.” Is that proper etiquette? Am I weird for being weirded out by this whole gig.

For the record, it has been too cold this week and it is only Thursday.

TNDC: Karyn's on Green

Let’s just get it over with. I’m not vegan. I don’t want to be vegan. Being vegan is weird to me. I respect the choice of those who are vegan, but it’s clearly not for me. Especially after my experience last night.

TNDC was canceled last time because Meghan and Alyssa were sick, and Neha had Bulls tickets. So we carried Amy’s pick over to this time. She chose Karyn’s on Green, 130 S. Green St., in the West Loop. Everybody was there except Neha, who was jet setting back from a Montreal business trip.

I was excited to try Karyn’s because I had heard as far as vegan restaurants go, it was top notch It had fantastic reviews on Yelp, and the actress Angela Basset had recently ate at either Karyn’s Raw or Karyn’s Cooked. As you can see by those restaurants’ names, the food is either raw or cooked at either location.

Prior to the day of the dinner, I think my mind protected me from understanding what vegan meant. Maybe it knew I might protest. I was associating vegan with vegetarian. Which, it is, but to the max.

According to www.vegan.org, a vegan is someone who, for various reasons, chooses to avoid using or consuming animal products. While vegetarians choose not to use flesh foods, vegans also avoid dairy and eggs, as well as fur, leather, wool, down, and cosmetics or chemical products tested on animals.

I was perusing the menu that morning and saw items like chicken legs and sausage and broccolini pizza. Then I made a confused face. Chicken? I don’t get it. But there’s no meat. I took my qualm to Megalicious, who informed me it’s fake. Then things started to come together.

I looked at the menu again. Caesar salad wouldn’t be legit Caesar salad because there wouldn’t be any eggs in the dressing. That sausage on the pizza isn’t sausage! It should say crab cake with a K! What the hell is Portobello bacon?!

This seems like I’m being dramatic, but anybody who knows me knows I love me some meat. Steak, hamburgers, pork chops, chicken, etc. etc. etc. As one former boyfriend who reads this blog said, (and I’m paraphrasing) “I’ve never met a girl who eats more meat than you.” TWSS.

The restaurant is cute, very sleek-looking. Meghan and I were the first ones there when it opened at 5 p.m. We had to get our cocktail on. We stuck with the house red wine, which, at $6 a glass was pretty darn good. We were going to order the Treetini, but we weren’t positive it actually had alcohol in it. The ingredients were listed as VeeV Açaí Spirit, fresh cucumber, agave, mint, and fresh lime juice. Alyssa ended up ordering it at dinner and it’s apparently a margarita/mojito hybrid. And they plant a tree somewhere if you buy one. We were upset we couldn’t mandate where the tree would be planted.

I was glad to hear the rest of the dinner club was just as apprehensive as I was. We all kind of sat in our seats, shoulders scrunched, scanning and scanning the menu for something that jumped out at us. We started with an old faithful: something fried. As an appetizer, we ordered the crispy mixed basket, which had sesame tempura battered vegetables, and fries, with barbecue and Thai cocktail sauce. Aside from the white asparagus, or albino asparagus as we were calling it, it was all great. Especially the avocados.

My goal was to not eat fake meat, as I don’t accept the premise. Meghan and I both ordered the split pea risotto; Amy got the marinated Portobello steak; and Alyssa ate the crab cakes. My risotto was fine, but it was like a pea explosion. I was hoping there was something other than peas in it, but no dice. It was also quite salty. Amy’s “steak” was actually a heavily seasoned Portobello mushroom. I had a bite and while I really enjoy Portobello mushrooms, I didn’t like the seasonings. I didn’t try Al’s crab cakes, but I had a bite of the grilled Bok choi that came with it and it was meh.

That was the theme. Everything was fine but tasted slightly off. “That’s cause it was,” my coworker said when I recapped the meal. And everything was really salty, as if they were trying to compensate for no flavor.

We thought we might fare better with dessert so we split a piece of chocolate peanut butter pie. Disappointment again. And again, the pie was freakin’ salted. Weird.

Overall, it may be a delicious place for vegans to eat. But now I just want a hamburger.