Change is coming to the 12-block stretch of Taylor Street west of the UIC campus; the housing projects are being demolished, and there's new construction and rehabilitation everywhere you look. But the neighborhood's restaurant scene remains remarkably stable.
Known informally as Little Italy, the area does, in fact, teem with Italian options, from dressed-up white tablecloth restaurants to streetside Italian ice stands. You'll also find a smattering of other dining options, from sushi to burgers, as well as an excellent French bistro (Chez Joel) and a down-home Southern hangout (Sweet Maple Cafe). Four of Chicago's most prolific restaurant operators have Taylor Street outposts: Phil Stefani (Tuscany), Alex Dana (Rosebud), Scott Harris (ia Francesca) and Roger Greenfield (Bar Louie).
Yet among the big-name operators, the independents do quite nicely. Today we examine a couple of long-overlooked Taylor Street stalwarts, the resolutely old-fashioned RoSal's and the stylishly appointed La Vita.
La Vita
1 star (out of four)
Rating key:
4: Outstanding
3: Excellent
2: Very good
1: Good
Satisfactory
Unsatisfactory
The three owners of this seven-year-old restaurant grew up in the Taylor Street neighborhood. Perhaps that's why they eschewed the traditional decor common to most Italian restaurants here and opted for a far more contemporary approach.
No faux grape arbors or vintage-neighborhood photos here. La Vita's walls are sponge-painted in purple, peach and silver hues; conical wall sconces and halogen track lights provide pinpoints of illumination but keep the overall light level low. Windows overlooking the street are framed with deep-burgundy curtains, and the long bar in front sports a laminated top in mottled purple.
The meal begins with good D'Amato bread and olive oil for dipping, and the menu by chef Nick Van Wassenhove looks pretty traditional at first glance. But the chef is more than willing to tweak tradition here and there.
Among appetizers, for instance, there's always the day's version of crostini. Actually there is nothing "ini," which is to say diminutive, about this dish, which usually consists of three massive bread slices topped with whatever strikes Van Wassenhove's fancy. One visit the bread was spread with creamy goat cheese and topped with scallops, roasted red peppers, basil and a rich red-pepper mayonnaise. There were at least two ingredients too many in this dish; the presence of goat cheese and mayonnaise seemed particularly ill-advised.
Another time the bread was again overloaded, only with thin slivers of cucumber, pepperoncini and diced raw tuna, with a judicious bit of aioli and a dash of lemon. I must confess that as odd as this assemblage seemed on paper, the flavors came together very pleasantly; I'd order this one again.
Other starters offer more tradition. There's good calamari, properly grilled with lots of chopped tomatoes, and steamed mussels in a hearty and slightly spicy tomato sauce. The beef carpaccio is a bountiful thing, topped with a mixed-green salad with portobello mushrooms and large flakes of parmesan cheese; this would have been better had the beef been given just a quick hit of salt.
Undersalting detracted from a duck breast entree, as well; the very good duck breast arrived at the table on a bed of mushroom and gorgonzola risotto that was almost flavorless. By contrast, spice-rubbed grilled salmon, a special, was much too salty. This is a tendency that has to be addressed.
Other entrees fare better. Handmade pappardelle pasta with seafood and a brandied tomato-cream sauce is outstanding, easily the best dish of my visits. The ribeye steak is one of the menu's priciest options, but it's a fine steak, topped with a pat of gorgonzola butter.
Only a few of the restaurant's desserts are made in-house, including tiramisu and panna cotta. The creme brulee is rather good, and those with a serious chocolate jones will find relief in the Chocolate Madness, an outsourced dessert that layers praline-flavored cake, chocolate mousse and bittersweet-chocolate ganache.
Service will make the odd error here and again--I ordered a bottle of white wine and it was poured into red-wine balloon stems, and the subsequent red wine wound up in white-wine glasses--but for the most part is personable, well-informed and attentive.
When the kitchen is as consistent as it is ambitious, La Vita may well become an excellent restaurant. For now, keep an eye out for the occasional midweek wine dinners, when the operation is likely at its best.
RoSal's
2 stars (out of four)
If someone wanted to set a movie in a small, family Italian restaurant, they could hardly choose a better spot for principal photography than 13-year-old RoSal's. There's old-world charm in every nook of this 40-seat restaurant, from the white Christmas lights strung about the room to the mismatched photos along the east wall, to the vintage flooring that owner Salvatore Perry salvaged from a house auction and installed himself. If this means the chairs might wobble (and they often do), well, that's part of the appeal.
Salvatore is the "Sal" of the restaurant's name; the "Ro" belongs to his wife, Roseanne, who still works in the kitchen every day, though the chef is Anival Chavez, who started at RoSal's as a busboy 13 years ago and learned at Roseanne's side.
The menu is light on appetizers, though a couple of specials generally boost the selection. Basic and good describe most of the offerings, including an eggplant-ricotta rotolo in a sprightly tomato sauce, an enormous stuffed artichoke and a hefty plate of stuffed peppers.
A couple of the appetizers are poor values. Mussels marinara was a special one night, but we were shocked when our $6.95 plate arrived with exactly six mussels on it. A $10 plate of grilled calamari was similarly scrawny.
Entrees, by contrast, tend to be gutbusters. In two visits and six entrees I didn't find one that I could finish.
Baccala, or salt cod, is close to a signature entree, available with lemon-garlic sauce or a Sicilian tomato-olive sauce. One night the latter version was offered as a special that also included rigatoni pasta--a bit of an overkill, but pretty tasty nonetheless. Veal marsala has a nice peppery presence, countered by the underlying sweetness of the sauce; chicken piccata, another classic, includes two hefty chicken breasts sauteed in a white wine, lemon and caper sauce. Both come with pasta sides.
The kitchen loves cooking things Vesuvio style, which for them involves a 24-hour marinade before cooking with peas, roasted potatoes and tons of garlic. You'll find fine chicken Vesuvio on the menu (listed as chicken RoSal), and the specials will often include salmon Vesuvio (the salmon with artichoke hearts on the menu is better) and even steak Vesuvio, a butterflied strip steak that's surprisingly good.
There are a half-dozen desserts, three of them made in house. The tiramisu, whipped to a frenzy, is lighter than most versions. The cannoli is fine. White chocolate mousse with strawberry sauce, served in a fluted glass lined with a waffle cone, is the best of the bunch.
Service is chummy and informal. On one visit our waitress had been slammed with three simultaneously seated tables, ours among them, but she managed.
One of the restaurant's recurring features is its monthly "Big Night" dinner, in which the kitchen re-creates the 10-course meal that is the central event of the film. RoSal's hosts these dinners the last Tuesday of each month, and other times by special arrangement (in the private-party room upstairs). At $55 per person, wine included, it's a good deal.
Phil Vettel is the Tribune restaurant critic.
