The faux-Polynesian empire Vic Bergeron started in Oakland, California in 1934 has reestablished a Chicago beachhead after vacating one of its oldest outposts, at the Palmer House Hilton, four years ago. I find it impossible to dislike Trader Vic’s—home of the original mai tai—though even as I write that I realize it’s going to be a hard sell after my visit to the new Viagra Triangle location. Despite a few terrific bites, it’s not a great place to eat, and worse—despite the extensive list of exotic cocktails—it’s not even a particularly good place to drink. I suspect that many of the 70-some cocktails, including the mai tai, are concocted with the company’s branded mixes and syrups—they certainly show a lack of depth and complexity. Sure, it’s a hoot to slurp up a giant Tiki Bowl with a friend, but recognize that it’s nothing more than a giant icy Sweet Tart. And the little rubber islander that wades in the Menehune Juice is cute as hell, but the drink itself is indistinguishable from the storied mai tai.
Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
As for the food: a giant egg roll stuffed to bursting with chicken and char siu (roast pork) was about as flavorful as a car seat, and the curries—all accompanied by sunflower seeds, currants, cucumber, banana, coconut, chutney, chow-chow relish, and tomatoes—are relics of deflavored 50s-style exotica. It’s rare that I’ll complain that a pork chop is too juicy, but the giant double-cut here is so slick, wet, and salty I imagined it going straight from butcher to brine and bathing there until it was hung in the signature wood-burning oven. But the spare ribs are remarkably lean, juicy, and smoky, the coconut-flavored peanut butter sauce that comes with the bread service is irresistible, and a spicy, gingery slice of barbecued pineapple with a scoop of coconut ice cream is a fantastic dessert. I can’t believe the toxic-looking Bongo Bongo soup—a vivid green spinach-and-oyster slurry that tastes strongly of the sea—survived the focus groups, but it’s delicious as well. The space is of course swell, all bamboo, wicker, carved wood, and clamshells; the service is tight; and despite significant disappointments in the food and drink department, it’s a fun place to kill a few hours. —Mike Sula
I’m sympathetic to restaurateurs who source ingredients so religiously, but the day hasn’t yet come where this approach can be affordable for everyday eating. The portions are moderate, as actual Italians might want them, but the prices are only fractionally less expensive than at the other members of the Merlo family—which is to say it ain’t cheap. —Mike Sula
1030 N. State, 312-642-6500
1967 N. Halsted, 312-951-8200
58 E. Ontario, 312-440-1818
