Tucked into what used to be an antique store just off Armitage in Bucktown, the aptly named Antico is by all appearances a typical neighborhood restaurant. Yet the unassuming facade, echoed inside by exposed-brick walls unadorned by a single framed print or painting, masks a crack staff and a kitchen that understands when to push a dish forward and when to hang back and let the food present itself—all under the direction of Trinna Schramm, a former expediter at Alinea, and chef-owner Brad Schlieder, a veteran of A Tavola. No wonder that, even as it looks like a gleaming vintage Hudson parked on a Chicago side street, it has a NASCAR engine under the hood.
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The kitchen struts its stuff with appetizers and house-made pastas, then simply allows meat and fish to carry the entrees. Cuttlefish fritti—thick ribbons of fish lightly battered and served with an explosive fried lemon wedge—beat any calamari I’d ever had, and an octopus special, served over a bed of arugula and flat-leaf parsley, had its sharpness undercut by a light, sweet dressing. Sauteed mushrooms served over polenta, now a special, will be added to the regular menu when the local supply becomes more reliable, and it’s a knockout—rich and buttery. House-made sausages were equally good, with nodules of fennel, complemented in sweet-and-savory fashion by braised red cabbage tanged with mustard and a mostarda of dried apricot. Risotto Milanese had a light, citrusy flavor, balanced by Parmigiano-Reggiano, and the spaghetti con vogole had clams almost as fresh as the pasta. Yet, as at A Tavola, the stars were the gnocchi, served three ways on any given night; we opted for the brown butter and sage, crispy fried leaves of the herb providing a light crunch to pasta that melted in the mouth.
During the day, Antico functions as a cafe, with pastries and fresh coffee roasted on the premises. In fact, locals kept straggling in for a cup to go throughout our dinner. The thick-capped cappuccino I tried washed down a panna cotta with red-wine sauce that put flan to shame.
1946 N. Leavitt
773-489-4895
anticochicago.com
