Everyone knows Rick Bayless. The impish, bespectacled, goatee sporting Chicago chef famous for his Mexican cuisine and PBS television series. I must admit, Cucina di Campo has fallen under his spell and loves everything Bayless. We make his salsas, drink his margaritas, and wish we could travel to Mexico City with him. There is something about his smile, that glint in his eye and the pace of his speech that pulls you in, not letting go until you ask for more. Yes, we've been Baylessed.
A recent trip to Chicago offered an opportunity to visit the Frontera Empire run by Rick and his wife, Deann. Rick has three restaurants - Frontera Grill, Topolobampo and the new Xoco. Topolobampo is the critically acclaimed upscale Mexican restaurant, awarded 4 out of 4 stars by Chicago magazine. White tablecloths, fine wine, and expensive Mexican food. Frontera is the original, a casual Mexican grill featuring Rick's authentic cooking. Both spots share a front door, and can be identified by the incredibly long line awaiting entry. Xoco is Rick's take on a Mexican street food restaurant, and is located around the corner from his other two places, in the same building.
Rick has built quite an empire, a paean to traditional Mexican cuisine in a stiffly upscale environ. Don't be confused; this is not a local Mexican joint. The average wait is 2 hours, and your bill will most likely rival that of a steak house. If rumors are to be believed, and throngs of anxious patrons any reflection, Rick's food is worth both the wait and the cost.
A dining companion and I tried to get into Frontera a few weeks ago, and encountered the typical 2 hour wait. We were offered a chance to wait at the bar for our table, or stand in line outside with 50 other people. The bar it was. Or wasn't, as it turns out. This was no bar, rather a mass of hungry humanity 10 deep trying to get the attention of the bartenders, praying to pay inflated prices for a chance to sip a signature Margarita. Did we just walk into a fallout shelter in Mexico City with news of a nuclear holocaust in the air? Incredulous, we turned around and left.
How about Topolo, I mused. Wrong again. Same wait, but this time I could spend three times as much once I sat down. Ok, this is crazy. It's Tuesday night. The hostess kindly informed us that Xoco had just opened earlier in the week but would be closing at 9, less than an hour from now. Let's go!
Xoco looked promising with a line only about 25 deep. Finally we will get to taste some of Rick's creations. Yes readers, I was wrong again. Xoco's concept has you lining up to order sandwiches (tortas), soups, hot chocolates, pastries, and small bowls of hot food. You pick from the menu, order at a counter, and wait for your food to be delivered in the seating area. Unfortunately, Xoco has instituted a policy of no take-away. This means that you have to wait for someone to leave the seating area before you can even place your order. So what looked like a 15 minute wait was really another 2 hour wait. Unbelievable. Nobody's food is this good.
The Frontera empire believes it is still living in the heady days of the early '90s when buzz made the place. Sorry, but that is no longer the case. Velvet ropes outside of empty clubs have gone the way of parking limos in front of restaurants to make them look fancy. Rick, there is no reason to make people line up to eat a small sandwich. Give us our food and let us go! Long lines may make you look good in the beginning, but will turn away the rest of us. Sure, your die hard fans may not have a problem waiting 2 hours to eat a taco, but let's be real.
I came back to Chicago this past week and thought I would give Xoco a try, just to be sure I wasn't getting the wrong impression. I arrived at 1:30 and got into line. I was informed that it was only a 20 or 30 minute wait, and I was determined to make it in this time. 45 minutes later, I was in front of the counter ordering food.
45 minutes of staring at the menu and watching people cook is plenty of time to work up an appetite and set your expectations high for the food you are about to receive. I ordered a carnitas torta in a bowl of tomato broth, the "Aztec," a hot chocolate with chiles and nutmeg, a churro and a cookie to go. $20. Not bad, not cheap either. The hostess directed me to a shelf along the wall to await my food. You know these kinds of seats - an 8 inch shelf with some stools set against a wall. Yeah, I get to stare at plaster and rub elbows with other suckers as I eat my overpriced sandwich!
Let me tell you, that was the best hot chocolate and churro I have ever tasted. No joke, the best. Great job guys (is this Rick's food, or the chef's?). The sandwich came, and it was cut in half an resting in a bowl of thick, smoky, spicy tomato soup. Good idea, until you pick it up. Yes, soggy bread and pork does not mix. My sandwich completely fell apart, leaving me with a bowl of spongy bread, pork pieces, pickled onions and tomato soup. Oh well. Hey, where is my silverware? Oh, that's right, you don't get that here. It is a "street food" shop. Imagine a street vendor charging 100 pesos for a pork sandwich - don't think he would last very long.
I proceeded to use my hands to get the rest of the sandwich in my mouth and slurped the soup. It was delicious, everything I was anticipating. The Frontera crew really know how to make food.
After all of the effort that I went through to try Rick's food, I have to say I was disappointed. There is no excuse for the kind of wait you are faced with. Of course, from Rick's perspective it all makes sense. Too bad I'm not Rick Bayless. It's good to be the king.
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