New Too
La Cocina de Frida5403 N. Clark | 773-271-1907
Good schools, safe streets, public transportation, a decent Cuban sandwich shop—all essential quality-of-life issues for a happy neighborhood. Lately, in a few spots, enterprising Cubanos are starting to recognize the importance of the last, and the Perez boys—Rey, Rey Jr., Michael, Oswaldo, Armando, and cousin Miguel—have staked their claim in Lincoln Square. They’re pressing the sandwiches on D’Amato’s bread, filling them with thick slices of Virginia ham or marinated steak or roast pork, and serving up hot and sweet cafes con leche and hot shots of cafe cortado. What’s not to like? Well, some of pressed sandwiches come out a little dry, and I’m tempted to guess that maybe there’s too much meat in them. The ropa vieja is a thick schmear of soft beef that’s short on texture, but it’s a guilty pleasure nevertheless. There’s a limited selection of breakfast items like eggs and pastries, and savory little bites like croquetas, tamales, empanadas, and papas rellenas. Finally, it’s a place to take out, not eat in, as a faint effluvium from the live poultry shop next door seems to seep through the shared wall. But despite its flaws, Con Sabor Cubano makes the neighborhood just a bit more desirable. —Mike Sula
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$$$$Italian | Dinner: Monday-Saturday | Closed Sunday | Open late: Friday & Saturday till 2, Monday-Thursday till 1
NXXT Restaurant & Bar2700 W. Chicago | 773-489-6998
Nightclub impresario Dion Antic’s hot dog stand is like a middle-aged rich guy with size issues, stuffing his jeans with toilet paper and trading in his sedan for a crotch rocket—all talk, no cock. It inhabits a short, narrow, angry red corridor decorated with a pair of wall-mounted guitars and a bunch of framed black-and-whites of rock stars in their native habitats. There’s a useless stripper pole set up by the front door, and temporary tattoos or guitar picks are given out with each order, meant to convince the impaired that they’re getting something of value for the overpriced wieners. Rockstar is using Vienna natural casing beef franks—a fine product, and each order comes with fries and a can of soda. But are they worth $6 or $7? Hell no. They’re just hot dogs. Granted the toppings, named for various artists and groups, are somewhat above par—Merkt’s cheese on the J. Timberlake, nicely charred jalapenos on the bacon-wrapped Los Lobos. But you can’t put lipstick on a pig (unless you’re Doug Sohn of Hot Doug’s, to which RD will invite inevitable misguided comparisons). —Mike Sula
