A few buzzwords could fairly easily sum up 2023 from a restaurant trend perspective: maximalism, nostalgia and martinis; inflation pricing, Food- (and Drink) Tok trend-chasing, and the never-say-die QR code menu. I saw each play out in some form or another in a year that marked my return to my hometown of Chicago and to my post as Time Out’s restaurant critic. Yet I also couldn’t shake a prevailing unease that continues to infuse this joyous diversion of dining out.
Moving home from New Mexico in April as the pandemic waned, I saw a city still reeling and forever changed, with higher living costs and more (visible) inequity. Many iconic restaurants closed or morphed into unrecognizable places — for better and worse. Restaurant owners universally lamented staff shortages; soaring labor, fuel and ingredient costs; and lingering supply-chain logjams exacerbated by the war in Ukraine. Meanwhile, seemingly everyone I know has had some choice words on how pricey it’s gotten to dine out. Everybody feels pinched yet desperate for normalcy — and unable to let go of the feeling that we might never get back to whatever normal was.
Does this explain why one could reasonably label 2023 as the Year of Grandiosity and Wanton Escapism? Every new opening this year seemed bigger and more luxe than the last, with head-turning prices and over-the-top food and drink to match. Let’s heap glistening blobs of caviar and fresh shaved truffles on everything! Let’s light the room with neon, turn the music up a little too loud and turn everything into a martini! The latter was already wearing on me the day two unforgettable concoctions landed in my inbox this year: a giardiniera-flavored dirty martini and a tomato basil-infusion mimicking caprese salad. And if the parmesan espresso martini and MSG martini are any indication, I don't think we’ve seen the last of cocktails and booze infusions that taste like food.
Even as we try to put the pandemic behind us, one stubborn holdover remains: the QR code menu. Nothing says gathering over a meal like everyone immediately shoving their noses into their phones. Some restaurants are even leveraging point of sale systems to implement ordering and paying at the table, infusing the dining-out experience with an awkward, airport-Maggiano’s vibe. I understand the financial and staffing challenges that compel restaurants to try these tactics, but it casts a chill over the hospitality aspect of dining out, and places too much of our focus on settling up when the experience should be about catching up.
The price of dining out, regardless of cuisine or vibe, is a topic that’s already top of mind for most. In April 2023 prices for food away from home increased 8.6% compared to the year-earlier period, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics. (Then again, prices for food at home climbed 7.1% during the same period. That’s right, everything costs more.) What’s different from the Great Recession era, at least so far, is that people don’t seem to be trading down to fast-casual, but staying home instead. Dining out was down 3.5% in April compared to the year-earlier period, per the BLS.
Just as restaurants are forced to examine how they spend every penny, belt-tightening diners can and should eat out with more intention than ever — seeking out and returning to the places that reflect the diversity of our neighborhoods, that feed our region’s microeconomies, that care for their workforces and our shrinking natural resources, and that make the kind of food that nourishes and thrills us in equal measure. After all, repeat customers are what get our favorite independent restaurants through storms like this one.
I’ve eaten more soulful, deeply personal food this year than any in memory — most often in cozy, next-generation mom and pops born out of passion. In October, I was magnetized by glossy alkaline spaghetti with sesame, Taiwanese black vinegar and umami-rich Lao Gan Ma (chile crisp) at Xiao Ye (Mandarin for late-night snack) in Portland, Oregon. First-generation American owners Jolyn Chen and chef Louis Lin stitch together their personal and professional histories with inventiveness and heart through the theme of midnight snacks shared in the intimate wee hours of a home kitchen.
In July at Filipino restaurant Boonie’s, I fell hard for a sizzling platter of sisig, a textural, citrus-scented pork belly hash with caramelized sweet onions bound with a raw egg that’s stirred in tableside. Chef/owner Joseph Fontelera’s inviting restaurant honors his Philippines-born grandmother with boldly charred, umami-rich and satisfying food, including the best damn garlic rice I’ve ever tasted.
Then a few weeks ago, I had all my preconceived notions about borscht upended by the gently sour, campfire-sweet version with charcoal-dried pears and duck at the modern Ukrainian restaurant Anelya in Chicago’s Avondale neighborhood. Anelya, named for chef/co-owner Johnny Clark’s Ukrainian-born grandmother, was born of urgency and a desire to preserve the cuisine of a place and people in the throes of war. Its kitchen staff comprises eight Ukrainian refugees, who, alongside Clark and chef/co-owner Beverly Kim, cook traditional and contemporary dishes representing the diverse regions of the world’s breadbasket. Despite this solemn, weighty mission, the food is joyous and the atmosphere warm. It’s one of the best restaurant openings of the year.
For me, these places match this uncertain moment with welcomed hope and honesty. They liberate the notion of what constitutes American cooking, even if we still don’t know what on earth to call it. They don’t gate-keep; rather they draw inventively from our motley American larder that spans fast food and chain restaurant nostalgia; regional, seasonal and cultural influences. They narrate the challenge of straddling identities and cultures, and carve space for those who need delicious reminders that they’re not alone.
And at least one of them makes a hell of an argument for deeming 2024 The Year of Soup. Watch out, espresso martini and fancy faux fish.
2023 Food Writer’s Wordbank
Words I probably overused:
- Thrilling
- Oozing
- Funky
- Sensual
- Briny
- Neon
- Maximalist
Words I never want to see again:
- Extra
- Fire (as in, "This food is fire")
- Slap (as in, "This food slaps")
- Clubstaurant
- ‘Tini
- Flex
