Prairie Fire
March 5th, 2011 § Leave a Comment
Tragically, restaurant week is over, and I only made it to one restaurant (I know, I know, what kind of foodie am I? A poor one). Burgeoning locavore that I am, (fantasizing about getting up at 7:00 on a summer Saturday to go a farmer’s market to buy peaches) I picked Prairie Fire in the West Loop. Per their menu, they “support Green City Market and local sustainable farms.” Why wouldn’t you want to check that out?
Disappointed at first glance—the vibe they were probably going for was cozy living room. Wood tables and beige and sage-colored upholstery. Kinda bland considering it’s a converted warehouse, except the electric prints on the wall of prairie fires And the shades on the light fixtures too, were prints of fires.
But, most of the tables were full and the clientele, not the young and hip I had imagined, but adults—older, seemingly successful professionals with younger ones scattered in, gave the place a pleasant buzz—no obnoxious music or TV droning on so I could enjoy the company of my friends.
Besides, when there’s good food tantalizing your olfactories, who cares about odd decor choices?
Living dangerously, I chose something I’ve never had before as my first course: beets. Citrus marinated beets. Not too shabby; I enjoyed the juicy, pleasant tartness. The raspberry and lemon colors. I’m left wondering what a normal beet tastes like.
And dessert—lemon pie! (or chiffon or tart—I forget.) Imagine lemon gelato on a light crust. But warm.
The coup de grace of the meal, though, was the main course: salmon. The best salmon ever. EVER. The filet was a bold pink, not the overdone variety like a kid’s bedroom walls, put pink. Summer pink. Summer-flower-rose-pink. PINK. And juicy. It didn’t flake apart when the fork sliced through it, as flaking apart suggests dryness, so much as it easily fell away to little pieces that I swirled around in the buttery potatoes so light the consistency was more like creamy grits.
In short, it was fucking delicious.
