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Smyth
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Before you even sit down for an upscale tasting menu dinner, a meter in your brain starts calculating whether it’s worth the time and money. And Smyth, in the West Loop, is a tasting-menu-only restaurant. But it’s one of those rare spots where your mental meter will stop almost as soon as you start eating, because a meal here is delicious, thoughtfully presented, and ultimately the kind of experience that reminds you why this type of restaurant exists in the first place.
The first thing you should know is that although Smyth is expensive, you’re not going to have a formal experience here. This is clear as soon as you walk in. The dining room is spacious, but feels a little like someone’s (very nice) family home, with wildflower-filled vases on top of bare wooden tables. There are two open kitchens that look like convincing displays in a home furniture store, and there’s even a refrigerator decorated with crayon drawings. The remarkably good service is loose and friendly, too—you won’t find any synchronized movements, or lengthy explanations of anything (unless you ask). You won’t even get a menu until the end of the meal.
photo credit: Jackie Gillum
You get the impression that the whole setup is supposed to make you feel comfortable, and this sense of approachability extends to the food. The twelve-course seasonal menu (which costs $285) is inspired by the chefs’ experience cooking in Smyth County, Virginia. There are no molecular gastronomy hijinks happening here, but the flavors are still complex, with ingredient combinations that taste both familiar and unexpected. Like, for example, the deceptively simple-looking first course: a raw oyster served in a bowl with an apple granita. The briny oyster liquor mixes with the ice to make the most refreshing slushie of all time, and it’s a perfect beginning to the meal. On the other end of the spectrum is a rich dish of Dungeness crab and scrambled kani miso topped with perfectly cooked foie gras. This could be very heavy, but the crab meat balances the fattiness of the foie, and the brains add a layer of funk that keeps it interesting.
The first few courses are small enough that you might briefly worry whether you’re going to get enough food, but have faith—by the time the largest course arrives, you’ll be full and happy. Then there are the three desserts, which are some of the best things here. Our favorite is the candied egg yolk floating in a pool of soft yogurt meringue. The yolk has a slight licorice flavor and the texture of a soft gummy candy, and the tangy meringue manages to be both airy and softly chewy at the same time. It’s something we’ll probably be thinking about on our deathbeds.
Tasting menus require trust. No one enjoys spending hundreds of dollars on an expensive meal that’s ultimately unsatisfying—but still, it happens all the time. At Smyth, you can feel confident that you’re going to get fantastic food presented in a way that makes sense, all in an enjoyably low-key setting. So make a reservation for your next celebratory meal, and turn off that mental meter measuring your cost-to-enjoyment ratio. You’re not going to need it here.