Love Story

There is plenty to love about Vera, a new wine bar and small-plates spot in the West Loop. But what really makes me swoon has nothing to do with its Spanish-inspired food, eclectic wine list or cozy ambience.

Rather, what comes to mind most often after my visits to the 68-seat spot, formerly Rushmore, is the image of husband-and-wife owners, chef Mark Mendez and sommelier Elizabeth, catching a quick embrace one busy weeknight off to the side of the open kitchen.

I may be one of the least romantic people I know (go ahead, ask my exes) but that brief gesture sums up for me a big part of what makes this restaurant special. To wit: Vera is a labor of love.

The warm-and-fuzzy factor goes up when you know a bit more about these two, who met, fell in love and got married while working at Carnivale, the huge, Latin-inspired restaurant not far away in distance, but miles away in essence from Vera.

On their blog, The Cook & The Corkscrew, Mark and Elizabeth described the trials and tribulations of starting a new restaurant. “I know there will be many bumps and bruises along the way but I will succeed in the end,” wrote Mark back in August 2010. “If it weren’t for my wife I wouldn’t be as positive. I think to have that person in the front of the house that shares the same passion as you is a very rare thing and I am lucky to have her at my side.”

Touching, sure, but that sentiment would be naught, well, at least to the restaurant’s diners, if the food at Vera didn’t measure up. Fortunately, that’s not the case.

Tapping into his interest for Spanish ingredients and local products—Mark was one of the first Chicago chefs to have a rooftop vegetable garden at Carnivale a few years back—the Chicago-born chef has created a small plates menu, think two to three per person, that is both exotic and familiar. But even though the menu is relatively small, with three main sections (seafood, vegetable and meat) with six to eight items in each, in addition to the selection of cured ham and artisanal cheeses, it’s not easy to decide.

No matter what you order, start with the house-made bread served warm with a rotating selection of butters: on my visits, there was garlic, goat and, my favorite, duck crackling. Some may balk at the $6 charge for something that is typically free, but it’s worth it.

That bread will come in handy, too, if you order the garlic shrimp—and you really, really should. The four perfectly cooked heads-on crustaceans have a subtle heat courtesy of the chiles and thin slices of garlic in the broth-like sauce, which begs to be soaked up. Ditto for the white anchovies, which come in a pool of olive oil redolent of pickled garlic. Close my eyes and I could be eating this dish at any traditional tapas bar in Spain, especially when paired with a glass of Grant “La Garrocha” fino sherry. (Elizabeth is on a mission to introduce Chicagoans to the versatility of this fortified wine, with some 15 by-the-glass Spanish options available.)

But really you can’t go wrong with anything in the seafood section, including a crudo—hamachi when I tried it—that was both sweet and spicy with a Valencia orange purée and chile oil; grilled octopus flavored with Spanish smoked paprika (pimenton); and turbot topped with olivada, a zippy chopped olive spread. Best-case scenario: Bring a few friends so you can order all of them.

The meat section is equally intriguing, ranging from hearty house-made lamb chorizo served with roasted onions and winter greens, which had a subtle homey baked-bean flavor to it, to rabbit and duck paella, which unlike other diners’ experiences I’ve heard about, had plenty of socarrat, the treasured crispy bits of caramelized rice that cling to the pan. Be warned: One of the largest plates, and most expensive at $26, the paella is filling and won’t leave room for many other dishes.

I wasn’t thrilled, though, with the braised oxtail-stuffed piquillo peppers with a rich melted cheese topping, one of the rare dishes here that suffers from too much of a good thing. As for the stew of honeycomb tripe and morcilla (blood sausage), it was more of an “it’s not you but me” kind of thing. While terrific in flavor, especially the garbanzos and accompanying broth, which (according to my server) get some added oomph from a slow simmer with a leftover jamon Iberico bone, I just can’t get past the soft, squishy texture of the offal.

Perhaps most surprising to me was how much I loved the options in the vegetable section, including the overflowing cazuela of Brussels sprouts jazzed up with crunchy pieces of jamon, and the cauliflower that gets a major upgrade with the addition of goat cheese and crunchy pecans. But my favorite was the roasted mushrooms, an umami flavor-bomb that I couldn’t resist ordering on all my visits, a reviewer faux pas I know.

Like the food, the décor at Vera is restrained. While some might find fault with the lack of frills, i.e., no fancy light fixtures, tablecloths or flashy art (or art of any kind, for that matter), I found the simplicity of the long room with its dark wood floors and exposed brick wall soothing. In fact, my favorite place to dine was at the bar, where I could take in the entire room in one quick glance.

But like any worthwhile relationship, there is a conflict or two. Dessert lovers won’t like the lack of options (there was only a house-made white chocolate bark when I was there, but I was told a crema Catalana, think crème brûlée by way of Spain, was in the works). However, there is a beautiful selection of cheeses. Those who need an elaborate pre-dinner drink will be disappointed too; while there is a handful of small-batch spirits behind the bar, there isn’t a cocktail program per se. There is, though, three reasonably priced wines on tap, along with a well-curated selection of by-the-glass options and bottles. And this might be a bit fussy, but I found the schizophrenic music selections to be jarring.

While the restaurant has “neighborhood joint” written all over it—“The idea was to create a place that felt like coming to our home for dinner,” says Elizabeth—its off-the-beaten path location might negate that thought for some. But that should change in a couple of months when the El Pink and Green lines open a new stop just steps from Vera’s front door at Morgan Street. A love story with a happy ending? Who can resist that?

Vera
***
1023 W. Lake St., 312.243.9770, verachicago.com

WHAT TO WEAR
It’s simply a “come as you are” kind of place.

WHAT TO ORDER
Bread and butter, garlic shrimp, roasted mushrooms

WHAT TO KNOW
Sit at the cheese bar for a unique dining experience.

WHO GOES
Solo diners at the bar, couples past first-date stage and a smattering of local food “celebs”

WHAT IT COSTS
Cheese $9-$15, cured ham $12-$30, small plates $3-$26