Find hunger
Fine dining in Chicago should be reasonably punk. Oh, yes, most people know of Alinea, the globally famous 3-star that pioneered molecular gastronomy stateside. But once inside Alinea, you could be anywhere and nowhere. It is in the city; it is not of the city.
Most of the other fancy spots in town are not like this. They show the architecture of the building, or they show off our local produce, or they exist as a BYOB storefront across from a rim shop. Price points are low as fine dining goes. Tables are reasonably easy to get, with enough advance planning. And they tend to be run by independent entities, sometimes even mom & pop shops, doing whatever they can do.
Enter Kasama, probably one of the ten best meals I’ve had in my life, nominally a brunch spot but also, at night, a fine dining spot with something to prove. Sometimes, when friends show up in town, I place a bunch of notifications for competitive tables as a half-joke. Rarely do they pan out. Two days beforehand, I get a text – and I see an available table. I turn to my friend: “It’s not cheap.” “We’re going.” Okay.
Talking about the food itself is not terribly relevant. What matters is that nothing was phoned in, no punches pulled. Nothing tried too hard, either. No course stood out as an obvious “hit” because they were all hits. Nothing felt overpriced. Nothing was stuffy. When something was covered in truffle, it was for an actual reason, and it was a pastry. And it all did well by a rich food tradition. Filipino food is overlooked by the West, especially at this level. The owners say that people frequently cry at dinner. I believe it, especially given that I spent most of the textbook-fancy meal in my native country crying, too.
You buy tickets to the big tour of the summer; I go to Kasama. One shows up and just gets to watch a few astoundingly talented people work at their top level for several hours. What do you take from that?
The service struck me as extremely humble. You couldn’t help but get the sense that everyone thought they were getting away with something, that this was all a small part of an impossible dream. I always want to go to a place that has this sense of wonder & intense gratitude for doing the kind of work they do. It inspires me in my own job & life to do the best I possibly can. Things are fleeting, including & especially you. How do you show up?