Jodi W, Elite 24
There are certain fine dining establishments you walk into and you know right away: There’s no weight on my shoulders. For the next three hours and nine courses, I can sit back, relax, and have a culinary adventure, a marvel of modern hospitality…
The Bear in River North is not a fine dining establishment of that type. Oh, there are some wonders, to be sure: the food, for starters, which we’ll get to sample; plus a menu that changes daily; a fresh flower budget that rivals that of a Kardashian household; and the palpable smell of generational trauma that the aforementioned flowers can’t quite drown out (and, dare I say, the occasional whiff of cigarette smoke, too?). No, the atmosphere at the Bear isn’t effortless. It’s more like… a rock concert where the entire band is Really angry with each other, but also Really They’re all loyal to each other; they all sense an invisible, menacing force that’s getting closer and closer; and the encore song/dessert might just kill them. Yes, The Bear is the Rumors Tour of food! (If you enjoyed this timely joke, be sure to upvote this review and follow my food Instagram, @YouCantSpellMichelinWithoutChicago.)
As a local Yelp Elite Squad member for over eight years, I’ve dined at Ever, Alinea, Oriole, and lesser-starred but equally good restaurants on numerous occasions. I thought I’d seen it all. But at Bear, I’ve learned to expect the unexpected. And I don’t want to spoil the fun for future diners, but let’s just say you might see the executive chef storming out of the driveway dumpster mid-service to jump on boxes like he’s entering a new level of Super Mario Bros. Even more unexpected, the head chef might follow him closely to jump into the trash herself. It’s all part of the Bear’s enigmatic charm, but be warned: if you suffer from any kind of anxiety disorder, I might recommend another restaurant. Or at least an earlier reservation, before tensions reach their peak and the beautiful earthenware begins to shatter.
Ultimately, I left my meal at the Bear with several questions, the main one being: WHERE’S THE BEEF? LOL, just kidding. But for those who don’t know, the Bear was once the location of the iconic Original Beef sandwich shop. I was delighted to discover that the sandwich service still operates out of a window in the back, run by a charming man named Ebraheim, whose general aura of gentleness makes you want to cry (if it weren’t for the fact that he looked like Scrooge McDuck spending a mountain of money when I ordered my two Italian beefs to go). As for the Bear’s other oddities and the reason for my four-star review, I’ll break my experience down into four categories:
Service
We walked past The Bear twice before we knew where to go in as it is only identifiable by a brass bear head and not the actual name of the restaurant. So the overall theme must be animals as when we arrived we were greeted by a man with bright blue eyes who said only: “Greetings, lizards”, before seating us in our two seats at the top.
From there, we were checked in often, but our food was served unevenly and by several different people. A man in a George Jefferson suit came over and simply poured a pitcher of water directly into the middle of our table. It was either the mid-meal palate cleanser or a stranger who had snuck into the restaurant, but he couldn’t have been nicer about cleaning it up. The bear is also very fond of birthdays. We saw several birthdays celebrated during our three hours inside, each acknowledged with a unique twist. Personally, my wife had a cupcake thrown in her face from a t-shirt cannon before we could make her realize we were actually celebrating her retirement. Either way, she loved it. Coconut buttercream!
These are the positives of The Bear’s unique approach to original and personalized service. The only negative is that I don’t think this new staff realizes that the thin glass separating the dining room from the kitchen is not soundproof. If anything, it seems to amplify the staff’s shouts. Our entrances were punctuated primarily by the sounds of “LET’S FUCKING GO” and “REFIRE! REFIRE!” with the occasional interlude of REM’s “Strange Currencies,” which I must admit I enjoyed. At the end of our meal, we were unexpectedly led back into the kitchen, and I think this was unexpected of the staff as well, given that several small fires were smoldering in several large trash cans and at least one shouting match was taking place near the front door. It was terrifying but also a little exhilarating, like the beginning of an apocalypse. I learned several new swear words and saw a picture of Coach K at Duke University covered in stickers. That’s a weird, sassy restaurant for over $200!
Food
The food was, with one exception, impeccable. I prefer my mirepoix pre-cooked, but I’m funny that way; the tableside broth service was visually stunning. I’ve heard the menu changes daily, and while I can’t imagine how that could be profitable for The Bear and the uncles who might have invested in its financial success, it would be explain why each dish was so fresh and innovative and also, without fail, poorly presented by our waiters. We were served beautiful cavatelli that turned out to be agnolotti – even better! The pork was actually duck, the Brussels sprouts turned out to be cauliflower, and the cherry juice was apricot jelly – but each dish was more delicious and mysterious than the last. Chef Marcus’s creative desserts are not to be missed. This is clearly a man who studied at Noma and who may also have Googled “magic” after experiencing a great tragedy in recent days.
Now that I think about it, maybe there’s a carbon monoxide leak at The Bear? would be explains why executive chef Carmen Berzatto stared into the distance for several minutes, mumbling “Claire” and “Copenhagen” as he came out to personally deliver our Wagyu bordelaise. (CDC Sydney only entered the dining room to physically lead him back into the kitchen, but she seemed charming, and her white Thom Browne coat was incredibly chic.) It’s possible, though, that I simply got lost in Chef Carmy’s eyes, which were so soulful and positively Eeyore-like that I want to cry just thinking about them. Come to think of it, wanting to cry is an integral part of being at the Bear, whether it’s from the delicacy of the scallop preparation or the pulsing undercurrent of irreparable trauma that beats just outside the (again, VERY THIN) glass of the dining room.
Atmosphere
The Bear’s atmosphere is one of Scandinavian simplicity, which arguably leaves more room physically and spiritually for all the aforementioned flowers and screams. And it works! By the end of the meal, our stomachs were full, our shoulders were tense, and the overall experience was like an escape room, but with linen napkins and a glass of caviar waiting for us behind each new safe. Plus, the wine was served by a former Triple-A baseball player who had trouble using the wine key but knew exactly what each bottle would smell like (a fun twist on taste knowledge!), and his analysis of the current Cubs roster was unmatched by any other sommelier we’ve ever met. StrangelyI hear The Bear has also become one of the best places in Chicago to spot celebrities. Joel McHale is apparently there all the time, wearing some nasty glasses, and I’m pretty sure I spotted Josh Hartnett hanging out outside, rehearsing a monologue as we pulled in.
Generally
In the end, I’m not sure my dinner at the Bear wasn’t a fever dream. I’m also not sure it was… positive. But it was a experienceand what is money for if not that? (On the financial side, there was a bit of a fight between the executive chef and his cousin at our table when our bill arrived, and it turned out the restaurant still hadn’t decided whether to charge a service fee or tip. We decided to split the difference and just leave a detailed and invaluable Yelp review in lieu of cash—we’re no longer allowed into The Bear as a result, but the memories will last a lifetime.)
L’Ours may be a disaster, but in the same way abstract art is a disaster. I believe there is a method to this madness, and as I said before, everyone has such soulful eyes. I’m leaving my coveted fifth star on this review in the hopes that it will be filled with the star of a “dusty French setting” (I quote the lizardman, lol). If you get to L’Ours before it becomes impossible to get a reservation (OR it burns down), my only recommendation is to arrive with an empty stomach, an open mind, and earplugs!