Edit Module
Edit Module
Edit Module
Edit Module

Yoshi’s Café and Tallgrass Reviews: Chicago Classics That Haven’t Lost Their Touch

After decades of ups and downs, two eccentric restaurants still have one thing in common: They never stop pushing forward.

(page 1 of 2)

Yoshi Katsumura

Photo: Antonio James/Chicago Tribune

Chef Yoshi Katsumura in the kitchen of his restaurant, Yoshi’s Café

When a restaurant lasts 10 years, it is to be congratulated. After 20, it is to be commemorated. If by some miracle a restaurant survives for 30 years in this difficult business, the only thing left to do is study it.

Yoshi’s Café has thrived on the same Lake View corner for 31 years; Tallgrass has held court in a 19th-century Victorian mansion in the far southwestern suburbs for 32. Both are idiosyncratic, personality-driven spots that have remained relevant by changing when they needed to, doubling down when the mood struck, and gathering the kind of loyal followings any restaurateur would kill for. But have they become simple nostalgia acts?


YOSHI’S CAFÉ 3257 N. Halsted St., 773-248-6160
FYI Yoshi’s was the first restaurant in Chicago to serve fresh fugu, Japan’s infamous pufferfish.
TAB $40 to $50
HOURS Dinner Tue. to Sun., brunch Sun.

Tab does not include alcohol, tax, or tip.

It’s only a matter of time before the corner of Halsted and Aldine has one of those honorary street signs for Yoshi Katsumura. The ebullient chef-partner has been the unofficial mayor of Boystown for years, with his wife, Nobuko, as his faithful chief of staff. They seem to greet at least half the patrons who enter their breezy bistro with hugs.

Even if you don’t know the couple personally, it’s natural to feel a bond with their restaurant and its trajectory, which mirrors Chicago’s growth—and growing pains—as a major restaurant scene. For a time in the 1980s, Yoshi’s was upscale and ahead of the curve, changing its eclectic menu daily and importing fish from Japan. Then, as the interest in French-Asian fusion that Katsumura pioneered devolved into overwrought cliché, Yoshi’s reinvented itself as a neighborhood café with lower prices and lighter fare. The restaurant didn’t just fall off the radar; it had no apparent interest in the radar.

These days, when no one much cares whether Yoshi’s is trendy, it’s no coincidence that the dishes hit their marks. Under a crispy Parmesan “dome,” a perfect al dente Japanese kabocha pumpkin raviolo floats in a goat cheese cream sauce; a delicate soft-shell crab tempura nestles with grilled shishito peppers and a creamy aïoli of miso, yuzu, and honey. Both starters allow Katsumura to give diners what they want without forfeiting his patented creativity. And when he plays things straight, as with a traditional duck liver mousse pâté with toast points, cornichons, and Dijon mustard, it’s pure pleasure.

Katsumura’s easy confidence means you might take some of the magic for granted. A stunning whole American red snapper has been deboned, head and tail intact, then dusted with flour, fried in canola oil, topped with cilantro and sautéed green beans, and bottomed with spicy hon-shimeji mushroom rice. It’s a wondrous specimen, crisp and fleshy, and the kitchen has painted its skin with homemade hoisin sauce. Then there’s Cornish game hen, a menu item I have always instinctively ignored. Here the snubbed bird gets glazed with honey and whole-grain mustard, oven-roasted until golden and juicy, ringed with a guajillo chili mole, and served with delicate sautéed Brussels sprout leaves and smooth garlic mashed potatoes. It demands attention.

Other times, the attention comes for the wrong reasons—stale bread, misguided desserts (such as a grainy chestnut mont blanc), and a neglected wine list. And Katsumura continues to periodically go overboard with the mad scientist shtick. His latest burger (a version of which I once named among Chicago’s best) is a wet mess involving wagyu beef, Asian pear jam, tomato-pickle aïoli, barbecue sauce, truffle oil, and a giant panko-crusted fried green tomato. At least the french fries were good.

Servers, ever confident and genial, charge the air with such cheer that it’s contagious. At the end of one meal, I almost embraced my waiter; few restaurants come by such camaraderie this naturally. After 31 years, Yoshi’s is less like an old flame than a dynamic lifelong companion—a kindred spirit you love despite various shortcomings.

* * *


Edit Module


Edit Module
Submit your comment

Comments are moderated. We review them in an effort to remove foul language, commercial messages, abuse, and irrelevancies.

Edit Module