For all of the Chicago chefs churning out slightly different versions of the same old thing, there is one who is clearly marching to the beat of his own drum. James Toland took over the West Town space formerly occupied by May Street Market. Aptly named The Black Sheep, Toland's restaurant serves American cuisine, "twisted and distorted for your entertainment."
The highly experimental menu includes stuff like olive oil powder, a parmesan sponge, a mozzarella balloon and carbonated strawberries. Toland sets a dramatic stage to unveil his culinary marvels. The gray on gray on gray space is moody and masculine in a way that works. Steel-colored leather booths line muted gray walls, and the focal point in the main dining room is a jarring collection of artwork that looks as if it's been splattered with blood.
My meal began with an amuse of a tiny fried bit of something or other atop olive oil powder. I was intrigued by the latter, but it turns out olive oil does not need to exist in powder form — it tasted like chalk. I washed it down with a few sips of champagne and prepared myself for my next course of sweet corn soup. Our waiter described this soup in a way that sounded delicious. The cold, watery soup did not deliver. Bourbon, cress and blueberries are admittedly interesting additions to a corn soup, but after two spoonfuls, I'd had enough.
Mercifully, my next course was Gruyere "doughnuts." I've never met a ball of fried cheese and dough that I didn't like, and these were no exception. I also tried the beet salad, which was prepared with goat's milk yogurt, pistachio, arugula and citron. It was fine, but forgettable.
The main courses include several clever attempts to deconstruct traditional foods and present them in a new way. The Illinois beef, for example, struck me as a reinterpretation of the typical meat and potatoes meal you might get at a steakhouse. Toland's version featured a tender and flavorful cut of high-quality beef with an egg on the side. The "bloomin' onion" you might get at a chain steakhouse is refashioned into thin crispy strips of fried onion on top of mashed potatoes that failed to leave an impression on me.
Vegetarians are in luck at The Black Sheep. The meatless options are clearly conceived with the same creativity that goes into all of the other dishes. There's a "mushroom feast" with black walnut and mustard greens. I tried the cauliflower entrée, a plate full of nicely seasoned cauliflower and a hunk of ciabatta drizzled with olive oil. For a vegetarian entrée, it was quite good, but I don't ever need to eat that much cauliflower again.
By dessert time, I'd seen so many unusual combinations and culinary sleights of hand that when my waiter told me carbonated strawberries were an option, I started to wonder if my dessert might be served with a Bunsen burner and a beaker. I was too curious not to order the hazelnut churros (because that's how you get the carbonated strawberries). The crisp sweet churros were offset perfectly with a delicate tart lemon cream. As for the carbonated strawberries, they were kind of like "natural" Pop Rocks candy. Don't ask me how, but they actually do fizzle a little bit when you bit into them.
I also tried the carrot cake ice cream, which was a deconstructed version of carrot cake. It was a pile of spiced cake crumbles, a smear of cream cheese studded with rum "jello shots" and a scoop of sweet carrot-flavored ice cream. I appreciated the ingenuity, but here's the thing — it wasn't better than an actual piece of carrot cake.
A meal at The Black Sheep is kind of like being a judge on Top Chef or a guest on Rocco's Dinner Party. If you're looking for a consistently satisfying meal that will fill you up, this is not the place for you. But if you're up for an entertaining culinary experience with some hits and some misses, then book a table at The Black Sheep — but I would do it soon. This place has already seen some high drama when the entire kitchen staff reportedly walked out after Toland fired his chef de cuisine and pastry chef, and frankly, I don't think this kind of highly experimental (sometimes puzzling) cuisine will keep Chicago diners coming back for more.
The Black Sheep is located at 1132 W. Grand Ave.; call 312-997-5100 or visit www.blacksheepchicago.net/ .
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