The Small BYOB Restaurant That’s Worth Flying to Chicago For

A restaurant that I adored, one that closed forever in 2009 but that fed me well when I lived in Park Slope, Brooklyn, came to my mind recently in Chicago when I was dining at Goosefoot, a restaurant with one Michelin star.

The Garden Cafe — the Brooklyn restaurant I remember — was a small, pleasant place, eight or so tables only. Camille Policastro ran the front of the house, while her husband, John Policastro, helmed the kitchen.

Most days, they were there alone, no assistants save perhaps a dishwasher. On busy nights, the odd waiter might lend a hand.

The food was inspired by European (mainly French) cuisine, and it was good. I recall lamb chops and poached flounder, salads made with thought, bread worthy of Paris (crisp crust, soft and warm interior). Camille was friendly and efficient (though some found her a bit reticent at first), and John, who had learned his craft in Europe, was exacting and relaxed. They cooked and served for 24 years, before calling it quits.

The relationship between The Garden Cafe and Goosefoot, you ask? A husband-and-wife team serving excellent food in a small space. If such an experience appeals to you, book a flight to Chicago from Houston (it’s an easy nonstop journey), reserve a table at Goosefoot, enjoy a three and half hour culinary experience in a welcoming, inventive room near Lincoln Square, and relish the evening, orchestrated by Chris and Nina Nugent.

Angela (who had surprised me with the trip to the Windy City as a Christmas present) and I chose the 8:30 pm seating (Goosefoot, which is open Wednesday through Saturday, stages three seatings a night: 6, 7 and 8:30). We arrived at the restaurant five minutes early.

A nondescript exterior on a drab street quickly becomes a warm, colorful, and elegant boîte once one steps through the curtained door into a small antechamber. A glance into the rectangular dining room offers a space with tables on either side, separated by a series of long tables on which Nina (who is a front-of-the-house master) had assembled art in various media celebrating Woodstock ’69.

On a video monitor, the sounds of Jimi Hendrix playing the U.S. national anthem; beyond that, trees in a number of psychedelic shades, and aVW Bug and Microbus in miniature… Yasgur’s Farm brought to Chicago. (Nina designed Goosefoot’s interior, and installs exhibitions in the restaurant on a seasonal basis.)

Our table ready, we sat between two men celebrating a birthday, and a man and woman beginning their dessert courses, bottles of wine on both tables. (Goosefoot operates a small store next to the restaurant, and offers a small but thoughtful selection of wines that guests can order ahead of time — I sent an email requesting a bottle of Charles de Fére Blanc de Blancs — but BYOB is definitely a bonus here.)

We opened and poured the sparkling, and enjoyed it and the warmth of the space. Nina and an assistant shuttled back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room, courses in hand. Each woman explained the dishes as they sat them before our fellow diners.

The sparkling was crisp, and we anticipated our diver scallop, the first course on the tasting menu.

After another 15 or 20 minutes passed, we began to think that the kitchen was overwhelmed, and when, a little after 9 pm, Camille came to our table with a bowl in each hand, apologizing for the delay and explaining that “the kitchen was a little behind,” our suspicion was confirmed. (I am always willing to wait a long time for my meal to commence in surroundings that I find captivating, and Goosefoot’s dining room certainly was.)

The scallop was a stellar beginning, all of its tenderness and seared exterior perfect. It sat in a broth of concentrated flavor, one that I would have gladly taken home by the gallon. I tasted the shells and sinew of lobsters that gave their lives for this, and the coconut and lemongrass sang. Chris, it was evident, knows how to make sauces.

A soup spoon was the cutlery of choice with this course, and, a piece of the scallop nestled in the broth in the spoon, I sat quietly, every bite comforting and a bit wild at the same time. The zing of the lemongrass livened the rich lobster, and each flavor component, while melding with beauty into a sublime whole, stood out on the palate individually, deliciously so. This was a course for all of the senses.

The couple on my right retired for the evening, telling us as they stood to leave that the soup course was a knockout. And it was, in more ways than one. It was made of roasted chestnuts, and there were also maitake mushrooms and a marsala gastrique. On top of the soup, a foam that tasted of chestnut, a nice crowning touch.

And, as I wrote, it was full of flavor. I love chestnuts, and they’re not used often enough in the U.S., so this course was a treat. The smoked mushrooms underpinned the soup’s whole, and the froth provided an appreciated lightness.

And a knockout in two ways? The size of the course was too large for a tasting menu, especially considering what came next, an ample and rich pasta dish, and a beef course, both excellent. Angela, who was sharing the table with me, had the discipline to leave some of her soup uneaten, but I made sure to extract every piece of maitake from her cup and mine. They were too good to discard.

We had given our bottle of Blanc de Blancs to Nina, who put it on ice, where it would await our dessert courses, and opened a bottle of Chablis, which paired well with the soup, and with the tortellini, which came to the table in a bowl whose contents were topped with a mound of Pecorino, Parmigiano-Reggiano, and shaved black truffles. To begin, the pasta was perfect, formed with care, and al dente. The broth, full of umami, clung well to the tortellini, and the myriad flavors synthesized into something that made me smile.

On any other evening, this course would on its own serve as a complete meal.

The next item — for which we uncorked a Crianza from Rioja Alta — was a beautiful plate of Angus  beef (and I applauded the size of this course, it being neither too large nor too small). A piquant cream and a slightly citrusy gel accompanied the beef (which was done medium-rare).

Note: If you have not served steak with crisp pea tendrils, do so soon. The Angus was tender, a bit smoky and redolent of grass.

Our savory courses behind us, we partook next of a palate cleanser of sorts, presented with Nina’s aesthetic. A glass vial suspended in the middle of a ribbon-like metal structure held a liquid that was pleasantly acidic and full of depth (thanks to the inclusion of a good olive oil).

Yuzu, apricot, satsuma and the oil, all chilled, played across the palate and served as an early digestif. The chestnut and mushroom soup, the pasta, and the Angus were still vivid in the memory and senses, but this elixir did what it was meant to: I felt enlivened, and the art installation was nice to behold.

The whimsy continued with The Goosefoot, a dessert served in a rubber waterfowl foot, a one- or two-bite cone containing an addictive mixture of vanilla, matcha tea, truffle, cherry, and pink peppercorn. Once the square, wooden box is sat in front of you, you’ll take a minute or two to appreciate the presentation, but you’ll wonder if the contents of the cone will melt while you gaze at it.

It won’t, so go ahead and admire the creation, which is neither sweet nor savory, but a complex amalgam of flavors that seem destined to marry.

I often drink an espresso at the end of a meal, but our next course of the evening was a fine substitution. Elderflower, Meyer lemon, coffee, and fennel, plus a macaron, was the final touch we were unaware we wanted. We did, however, want it after tasting the first spoonful of whipped foam, specked with fennel pollen. The liquid possessed that wonderful elderflower flavor, a floral-herbal note that can make one dream of Paris, and the coffee paired well with it.

Our Brut was gone, as were all of our fellow diners save one couple, and our experience at Goosefoot was drawing to a close. We spoke with Nina for several minutes about the Chicago dining scene and all of its travails and energy, and she presented us with our parting gift, a bar of chocolate made by Chris, who is also versed in pastry. In keeping with Nina’s artistic approach, a piece of wood adorned with moss held the chocolate, which was made with chilies.

Chicago magazine, in its current Top 50 Restaurants in Chicago list, places Goosefoot at No. 8, in a Top 10 roster that’s full of quality, inventiveness, and delicious food. We’re talking Alinea, Oriole, and Schwa, to name but three.

That’s heady stuff, and if you are looking for a three and half hour adventure that takes place in a thoughtful, charming space operated by a woman and man who pay attention to every detail of those three and a half hours, Goosefoot should be on your calendar.

Yes, the experience will cost you $145 per person, plus tax and gratuity, but just imagine the money you’ll save by bringing your own wine.