The Chicago trip was bookended by two big nights out. My first full day ended with Operation Mincemeat and my last full day ended with the three-Michelin-star meal at Smyth.
Operation Mincemeat – It was obviously great. I didn’t appreciate it as much as I could have because I reserved an Uber and it seemed impossible the show would be over before the Uber arrived. That distraction was one of the reasons I felt like I didn’t sufficiently enjoy this clearly enjoyable experience.
Another was that I didn’t do my “homework,” as the older man seated to my right said. “With fast-paced shows like this you have to read up on the lyrics.” I told him I had done some homework; I had seen the Colin Firth movie, of which he was unaware. He asked, “Was it a comedy?” No, it was not. Not as comic as the musical, which was a Romp. I had all the experiences everyone has:
[SPOILERS]
- The sudden realization there are only five people playing all the parts in the cast. Truly, I think at one point Johnny Bevan walks behind a blackboard, does not break stride, and in comes out a different character: different clothes, hair, accent, mannerisms.
- The uncontrollable sobbing at the song about the letter to Bill. The young man sitting to my left shifted so uncomfortably at his emotions that I was concerned he would someday take to drink to stifle his feelings.
- The exhaustion while witnessing a musical that (minus rhe exception noted above) delivers unrelenting fast-paced lyric-dense high-energy mapcap song after song after song.
[/END SPOILERS]
It was so much, so fast, madcapmadcapmadcap for hours with really no chance to digest what was happening.
I’m sure you see where I’m headed next …
The three-Michelin-star meal at Smyth
I’ve been to a tasting menu before, at Acero, where I had 12 courses of relatively familiar Italian food. This was 20 courses of utterly unfamiliar foods. Exhausting. Again, so much, so fast, so new. A new course every five to ten minutes, each presented by its own waiter.
I mean, I wanted branch out, to try new things, but in a very short few hours I tried raw venison, Masa, sea lettuce, Uni, ponzu, abalone, sweetbread, and squab, and any familiar food was paired with something inventive, like lobster with cashews. It wasn’t a case of my stomach being overly full, it was overly stimulated.
And to be fair, I tucked in to everything. Every time a waiter materialized with mushroom slivers or malted milk bread or quail eggs I could smell it and good god, it all smelled heavenly. And then I’d eat it and my Tongue would say, Jesus, what’s this then, pass it off to my belly, Belly would say, I can’t drop this grape in here, not on top of the lobster and the aguachile.
The bite that broke me was the chocolate mousse enclosed in tuilles topped by caviar. Sweet and salty, I get it, but that did me in. I told one of the many waitresses I had hit my neural overload, my tongue was too tired, and she was very kind and still sent me off with some pre-boxed extra dessert treats.
For that experience I really should have done some homework. I could have tried sweetbreads and raw deer ahead of time. I could have packed it in like Joey Chestnut.