The header on the menu of the Doubletree Hotel’s new Markethouse (611 N. Fairbanks, 312-224-2200) promises a marriage of “heartland basics with new cooking styles and ingredients, so you’ll find surprising twists to otherwise well-known dishes.” I assume that refers to eyeball grabbers like the goat cheese nougat with apple and beet salad, the pistachio brittle with squash soup, or the pickled Asian pear with diver scallops. In execution, I’m not sure those represent anything more radical than creative applications of classic techniques, but chef Scott Walton’s steering of the seasonal/local bandwagon ought to pack in the hotel guests, if not necessarily to locals, who have an increasing number of similarly driven chefs to follow.
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One surprising twist not detailed on the menu (too much information?) is the caul fat wrapped around the meat loaf. This is a technique often used in making sausage and other meat preparations to keep them moist and juicy. It works—and it shows that Walton should be taken seriously. So do dishes like juicy honey-cayenne rotisserie chicken with fingerlings topped by sweet candied lemon and the white cheddar mac ‘n’ cheese gratin, made with al dente penne, larded with bacon bits, and topped with a crown of browned melted cheese. On the other hand, some don’t add up to the sum of their parts. Underseasoned, overbreaded, and out-of-season fried green tomatoes, for instance, were upstaged by their intensely flavored accompaniments—pickled cherry tomatoes and too many slabs of pastrami-cured salmon—which were delicious but over-the-top. Markethouse’s sprawling dining room, with giant windows looking out onto Fairbanks, serves three squares, including a breakfast buffet, as well as a late-night bar menu. Even with every chef on the planet going seasonal, it should be fun to watch what Walton comes up with. —Mike Sula
However, the small rear kitchen responsible for the rest of the menu—antipasti, salads, house-made pastas, and meatier second courses—seems less capable of its mission and hampered by less-than-ideal ingredients. A plate of gnocco frito, knobs of fried dough that were undercooked inside, were accompanied by supermarket-quality salumi. And someone in the kitchen seems to be scared to death of overcooking starches, as evidenced by a granular polenta with a watery sausage ragu and tough paccheri (like supersize rigatoni) with spent chunks of pork. Gelati said to be made by a mysterious “old man from Melrose Park” were variable—a simple vanilla was smooth, creamy, and excellent, but chocolate was icy and over-the-hill, and hazelnut and pistachio were somewhere in the middle.
