When I read about a restaurant that uses phrases like "shifting the paradigm" and "forging an entirely new culinary genre," I want to crawl into my bed and pull the covers over my head.
Vermilion is the restaurant. It took over the space once occupied by an Italian restaurant called Palaggi's. And before Palaggi's it was a tapas-style restaurant, one that didn't last long enough to make it into any restaurant guidebook.
Vermilion is out to break this location jinx by setting into play a "fusion of contemporary Indian and Latin American cooking."
What is it with everybody wanting to fuse something or other with Latin American cooking? Excuse me, but I don't get the connection. Oh, wait. Here it is, it's explained in the letter that was in the press kit."This unique melding of cuisines is served in an upscale tapas format and works beautifully given the overlapping and complementary nature of several core ingredients and spices from these not-so-disparate regions of the world." I am not sure that "several core ingredients and spices" is going to cut the mustard. The way I see it, "You fuse, you lose."
I have eaten the foods of India in India. I have eaten the foods of Latin America in Latin America. And I have eaten tapas -- lots of them -- in Spain. Here's something interesting. I enjoyed, at one level or another, those foods as they were in each of those situations. No fusion, no confusion.
Sometimes restaurants, especially those that employ fusion, simply try too hard. Example: one of the tapas at Vermilion is empanadas. They have the empanada look and shape, and one filling was spinach and cheese. So far, so good. But now it all turns cute with a passion fruit vinaigrette and a mango coconut chutney that took the dish right over the edge into an abyss of flavor hell.
Another bummer was the Indian flatbreads (paranthas). One of the joys of an Indian restaurant is the breads (naan). This assortment -- paneer (a k a farmer's cheese), peas and cauliflower -- was bland and boring. And salvation was not forthcoming with the yogurt mint dip served on the side.
The term kofta refers to a deep-fried meat or vegetable ball. And in classic Indian cooking it is an admirable dish (see "Pat Pourri above"). Vermilion, in an attempt to join two disparate cuisines, decided to do plaintain koftas. Let me say that this attempt to do banana meatballs fell flat. The date-pomegranate sauce served with the kofta was great, though. I would love it on toast.
One tapa that did shine was the steamed mussels. Flavored with a cilantro and coconut broth (a definite and delicious Thai influence), the plump mussels did provide a bit of redemption. If Vermilion is going to make it here, they might look to more of this kind of simplicity. (On the other hand, if you want some really good tapas, go to Cafe Iberico in the city and Meson Sabika in Naperville).
Entrees are a much better bet here than the tapas -- by far -- since there is no overt attempt to fuse. A terrific dish is the chicken tikka masala. These grilled chicken cubes at Vermilion got a rich and somewhat thick coating of a creamy tomato sauce that had been graced elegantly with fenugreek leaves (slightly bitter and a perfect counterpoint of flavor). The naan served with this dish was good and made for a good scoop to finish off the sauce.
One of the glories of Indian cooking is lamb vindaloo. If Vermilion would concentrate its efforts in this direction, it could set itself up as one of the premier Indian restaurants in Chicago. Cubes of tender lamb mixed it up with chunks of potatoes, the whole of which meshed most deliciously with the Goanese sauce, subtly enhanced with malt vinegar. This dish came with steamed rice (a proper accompaniment). Could it have been any better? Yes, had the kitchen given the very idea of vindaloo its proper due, which is heat, as in spicy.
One of the best ways to approach the entrees here is to go for the thalis, which the menu explains as your choice of two entrees accompanied by black lentils. It's a good deal and a big meal for just $20.
Desserts play around in the fuse box a bit and are shocking at best. Mexican hot chocolate with churros? Cajeta mousse (cajeta is a Mexican caramel syrup) with a frangelico-flavored Anglaise? No thanks. Anyway, both of those scared me, so I tried the orange bread pudding, which was decent (the description was better than the actual eating.
OK, not bad, on the Kahlua-flavored flan. The color was drab, but the lively fruit assortment -- papaya, guava, mango -- that accompanied this custard was nice.
Pat Bruno is a free-lance writer, critic and author.
