Lounging in the 1947 railroad dining car that is the Silver Palm, an ice-cold vodka gimlet in your hand, is like roaring back in time to a glamorous era when people dressed for dinner. Yet the laid-back, denim-clad staff and the muted twang of Tom Petty on the radio declare something altogether different: This is a good, honest diner.
Owner David Gevercer packs the menu with enormous truck-stoppish staples such as hickory-smoked baby back ribs ($15.50) and fried chicken ($14.95), as well as awe-inspiring beasts like a canoe-size po’ boy with scallops and shrimp topped by mustardy tartar sauce and a sharp pickled green tomato ($12.95). The legendary and artery-clogging Three Little Piggy ($13.95), a sandwich of smoky braised ham, fried pork medallions, crisp bacon, Gruyère, and a fried egg piled high on a rich brioche bun, could easily feed three. The B.N.S.F. Rutherford Salad ($12.95), with panko-coated avocado slices, ribbons of prosciutto, and dried cherries in a bright strawberry vinaigrette, may sound odd, but like the strings of icicle lights complementing the restaurant’s dowdy red velvet curtains, it’s a combination that finds a way to work. That’s the Silver Palm: an anomaly with its own strange magic.
768 N. Milwaukee Ave., 312-666-9322.