The Delta

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Owner Eldridge Williams was raised in Mississippi, but working in restaurants in Chicago, he longed for the tamales of his Memphis youth.  Williams grabbed his future chef Adam Wendt and some business partners, jumped in a Ford Expedition and toured the Delta with his crew. Inspired, they came back to Chicago to open the restaurant. The tamales are filled with silky lamb and beef, topped nacho style with spicy giardiniera and drizzled with D.A.F sauce, an elixir Wendt describes as “slutty.” It’s like creamy Thousand Island dressing. This plate is called the Jim Shoe ($11), an upscale homage to a native South Side Chicago sandwich. The Delta feel fills the space in the forms of photos, tufted cotton plants and Mason jars stuffed with flickering candles. Near the bar, there’ are thrift store-salvaged letters tricked out with thick light bulbs spelling out D.A.F. Copper panels adorn the kitchen pass and glazed ceramic tiles hang on the wall while a group of pig figurines hold court. It’s a maelstrom of antebellum mansion finery and junkyard-chic.