One evening at Honey’s, in the Fulton Market district, chef Charles Welch appeared at my table to drop off the mains: a spit-roasted pork chop and half rotisserie chicken. After the former Sepia executive sous chef ran down the dishes’ respective attributes, he bid us good eating, and then spun around into a support post with a startled “Whoa!” It was a harmless spot of slapstick that rendered the genial chef all the more genial.
While Welch’s compositional skill is easier to appreciate in the airy sky-lit environs of the front bar, it can be more difficult to perceive in the darker interior dining room, where small, sweet seared bay scallops disappear in a viscous approximation of white gazpacho—traditionally a bread- and almond-based slurry garnished with grapes, here bedecked with grilled peaches, compressed cubist apple excisions, and tart baby sorrel leaves. A $17 lamb tartare doesn’t appear (or taste) raw at all but is somehow seared gray and devoid of any lamb fat or funk that might make it interesting.
Beverages span the usual range of bespoke cocktails, microbrews, and a largely old-world wine list with a few bottles under $50.
1111 W. Lake 312-877-5929honeyschicago.com
