Lots of hype and delicious tripe: The Publican

November 8, 5:24 PMChicago Dining ExaminerEmily Szopa

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Tripe and blood sausage gratin

When restaurants are hyped to the point of hysteria, I find myself loathe to approach even the surrounding area until the excitement has slowed to a simmer. In the case of The Publican, I left for my semi-annual trip to China shortly after it opened, so I missed a lot of the initial reactions from food bloggers around the city. Less than a day after I stumbled off the plane at ORD, however, I found my jet-lagged, Chicago food-craving self making a beeline for the highly anticipated gastropub.

Most times when I return from Asia, I somehow immediately end up in Chinatown, or at the very least, grabbing my super-secret favorite egg rolls from a Chinese place near my mom's in the suburbs. You'd think I'd be burned out on Asian cuisine after spending two weeks eating nothing but, yet because I travel so much when I'm over there, the sad truth is: I dine mostly on airplane fare, ferry snacks and late-night bowls of wonton noodle soup in my hotel room. Naturally, I overcompensate when I get home.

This trip was different. Thanks to the insane cost of travel when my tickets were booked, I stayed put in several areas long enough to sample more of the local food. I still logged about 12 "travel meals," but was also fortunate enough to be treated to plenty of Cantonese cuisine (and Shanghai soup dumplings!), so I came back craving hometown comforts.

When Constant Dining Companion (CDC) and I arrived at the Publican, it was fairly empty, but not unreasonably so for a Wednesday at 6:30pm. My first reaction to the dining room was something along the lines of, "Whoa. Big." And it is big, although this fact is amplified by the simple decor and communal tables.

Designed by co-owner Donnie Madia and architect Thomas Schlesser, the space recalls the ambiance of European beer halls while echoing the stark surroundings of the duo's designs at Avec and Blackbird. Three-tiered tables dot the center of the room, encouraging folks to enjoy a beer or two while waiting for seats, and along the east wall is a veritable stable of booths, each enclosed by a pair of swinging doors. Of course we wanted to sit in the booths, which, for all their animal pen-like appearance, conveyed a sense of intimacy amidst the room's communal clamor (which picked up as the night progressed), but instead decided to go with seats at the group table.

Potted Rillettes with grilled country bread

With 65 beers from which to choose--many foreign to me--we deferred to our server's recommendations. We started with a Three Floyd's seasonal draught, Munsterfest, even though I was itching to try one of the Belgian brews. Autumnal beers are absolutely my favorite, and this one had all the necessary spice, but was still light enough to nicely complement the oysters with which we started our meal.

I love Kumamoto oysters ($3 ea.) because they're tiny and sweet, and they're delicious even without the traditional accoutrements. I had never had a Belon ($5 ea.), however, and we were both surprised by how large those buggers are. The texture was great, but the briny flavor gave way to a somewhat metallic aftertaste that even the champagne mignionette couldn't temper, and so we both decided that we just aren't fans of Belon. The oyster, not the French naturalist. He's okay.

We knew we were going all-meat from there on out, though the tantalizing seafood dishes begged our return at a later date. All of the dishes, true to the Publican's communal spirit, are meant to be shared, so we ordered them together and each arrived as it was ready. The Crispy Sweetbread 'Schnitzel' ($15) was the first to appear, and we attacked it with gusto. The fluffy sweetbreads were melded together beneath a crispy coating, resembling a traditional schnitzel, topped with an anchovy sauce and chopped hard boiled egg. It came off as simple and comforting, a dish that CDC said wouldn't have been out of place at his Peruvian grandmother's dinner table.

Next was the Potée ($25), a trio of pork cuts served with a ragout of root vegetables and lobster mushrooms and a bit of horseradish aioli. This was my favorite of the evening, as it was exactly what I had been looking for. A rustic presentation belied the subtleties that made this dish sing, from the tender, toothsome belly to the flavorful shreds of shank to the delicate slices of nicely seasoned tenderloin. It was three of my favorite winter foods on one plate, each standing on its own yet all combining to evoke memories of a delicious stew my mother would serve with spaetzel when I was younger.

Then the Tripe and Blood Sausage Gratin ($12) arrived. Ok. I. can't. stand. blood sausage. I committed one of those awful, unforgiveable diner faux pas by actually telling the server that I've never enjoyed blood sausage, then asking if I would like this dish. He responded as a true diplomat, saying that I should try it, even offering to remove the dish immediately if we hated it, and suggesting that perhaps I've never had properly prepared blood sausage. I considered this reasonable, although I was pretty sure the folks at Tango Sur would defend their sausage as being properly prepared. I do like gamey food and I'm always up for trying something "one more time," so we went ahead and ordered it. 

Cheers to good beers!

It appeared as unassuming as a side order of mac-n-cheese, but one bite in I knew this was a complete departure from any gratin I had ever sampled previously. It was rich and creamy, like any good gratin, but it also retained the wonderful, slightly bouncy yet completely tender texture that characterizes well cooked tripe. I was certain that my next bite, which involved a nickel-sized piece of blood sausage, would destroy my aversions and elevate the esteemed, centuries-old offal "delight" to a hard-won place in my favorite flavors palate.

Ugh, but no. CDC munched happily away, smacking his lips (a little too often) and extolling both the tripe's preparation and the sausage's amazing contribution to the dish's "flavor profile," but I, once again, couldn't get past the iron-and-dirt flavors that lingered after the fleeting, familiar gamey taste that I actually enjoy. I let CDC polish it off and, like the incredible glutton I am, ordered the Potted Rillettes ($12) so I could smack my lips over something too.

The rillettes are prepared confit-style, the shredded pork slow-cooked in its own fat, condensing and intensifying the smoky flavors, then mixed with peppers and onions and served with sliced country bread on the side. The bread seemed to have been lightly griddled with some bacon fat, but it could have just been dripping off my chin at that point. Memories of the blood sausage faded quickly as I loaded up the slices of bread with rillettes, savoring every bite.

We had switched to a Belgian draught about midway through the meal, the La Rulles Triple (Bière De Gaume), and liked it so much that we decided to have it with dessert as well. It had more body than the Munsterfest, and a sweeter malt, but the spice and honey flavors were still in line with my craving for an Oktoberfest-like brew. Dessert was a Belgian waffle topped with blueberry compote, but despite our server's enthusiasm, I think we could have just stuck with the beer and been fine. It was good, just superfluous and somewhat underwhelming after the great meal we had.

One thing I know for sure is: I left the Publican full, happy and glad to be back home.

For more info: 
The Publican is located at: 837 W. Fulton Market
Call 312-733-9555 for more info