Why I Don’t Trust the Chicago Tribune’s Review of Smoque Steak

If someone offered you $17,859,000 dollars a year to spend two hours a week trying to annihilate another human being, would you do it?

Would it make it easier if I told you that this job is completely legal? Not only is it legal, but its effective execution is celebrated by billions of people around the globe.

For many people, the violence would be a non-starter.  That still leaves millions of people eager and ready for the opportunity around the world.

I’m sure you’ve guessed I’m talking about pro football. Even more specifically I’m talking about a defender devoting themselves to destroying the opposing quarterback.

Even more specifically, given the salary I’m quoting, I’m talking about Nick Bosa, the defensive end from the San Francisco 49ers. I bring up Bosa, because he’s currently one of the league’s stone-cold killers. He is not a literal killer, but some NFL players have been or have alleged to be like Ray Lewis, OJ Simpson, Ray Carruth, and Aaron Hernandez.

If you devote yourself to assaulting others as your occupation, you have to indulge in sociopathy. Ndamukong Suh, a defensive tackle once smashed an opposing player’s head in the ground and stomped on his arm long after the whistle had been blown. Sometimes the lines are so blurred they spill over into real life.

I don’t think Nick Bosa is an actual killer, but he called Colin Kaepernick, for his civil rights stance, a clown. Bosa also went to Ohio State which as this Michigan grad understands means Bosa is also a clown. I sort of kid about the OSU dig, but, what’s indisputable is that Bosa is in the game to knock your block off.

This is apparent in the new Netflix documentary Quarterback which follows NFL quarterbacks Kirk Cousins, Marcus Mariota, and Patrick Mahomes. There are some scenes where we see Bosa constantly badgering Mahomes of the Kansas City Chiefs. Even if Bosa doesn’t get to Mahomes or hit him, he’ll punch or tap Mahomes in the chest after the play is over to try and rattle him.

While Mahomes never gets killed by Bosa, we do see his Minnesota Vikings colleague Cousins get absolutely hammered by another defensive player and incur internal bruising. 

Mahomes, because of the hits he’s taken and because of hits like the one Cousins took, knows that these defenders are out to maim him. That makes what we see next in the doc even more extraordinary. 

Instead of punching Bosa or screaming loudly, Mahomes just says, “I know what you’re doing.”  Mahomes does butt heads with Bosa, but most of the time we see Mahomes congratulating Bosa or tapping him on the shoulder pads saying stuff like “Nice hit.” Or “Good pass rush.” 

Mahomes does this to other defensive players in the doc as well. At one point he’s literally been pancaked, his opponent laying on top of him, and as he crawls out gasping for air, Mahomes’ first instinct is to glaze his rival with appreciation.

It's extraordinary. It’s like the brown-noser in elementary school or the butt-kisser in corporate America. Mahomes is incredibly Machiavellian. He knows that though these guys want to end him, if he can show some kindness, some allyship, human nature means the defenders might subconsciously pull up on a future hit or come at him just a little less which can mean the difference between being able to throw a split second game-winning pass or avoid the full Theismann (aka having your tibia and fibula shattered by Lawrence Taylor, the baddest of MFers to ever do it).

I really liked seeing this, because it explained in an extraordinary way the fundamental problems with modern food criticism that I’ve been trying to illustrate in a non-“inside baseball” way- i.e. why trying to maintain anonymity and keep restaurant people at an arm’s length is important.

Except for the minimum wage pay, food critics are somewhat like NFL defenders. The best of us are not looking to kill anyone. My dirty secret is that I want every restaurant to be four stars. But when I see something that is threatening the quality of restaurant work, letting the consumer down, or that might force people to part with their hard-earned money in exchange for garbage, my job, like a defender stopping a touchdown pass, is to throw some hard knocks in the form of honest feedback.

Like Mahomes, restaurant people know this. This is why the chefs and owners try to be your friend, why they say nice stuff about you, invite you to free meals, and generally give you stuff. Like Mahomes, they are grooming you so you either hook them up in return or at least go easy on the bone-marrow-crushing critiques.

One of the hardest reviews I wrote this year was my review of Smoque Steak. One of Smoque’s principals, Barry Sorkin is one of the nicest guys in the industry. He and his team are hardworking, smart, focused, and have built one of the best BBQ joints in Chicago. They are very good at what they do. 

In my early days as a food writer, I wrote features and podcasted. I interviewed Barry in person and even produced a video series of him.

We are not friends. I was invited to the media preview. I did not go. It has been at least ten years since we last spoke. Maybe he saw me that night in the Smoque steak dining room, but he didn’t acknowledge it.

I know what he stands for and have a deep respect for his work. When Smoque didn’t meet that standard, I was faced with being honest about a subpar experience. That wore on me a bit.  However, I believe the best way you can honor any relationship is by giving honest and “objective” feedback, so that’s what I did.

This is the prism I’m looking through when I read today’s three-star review of Smoque Steak from Louisa Chu and the Chicago Tribune.

I respect and appreciate Louisa. She is arguably the most qualified food critic in Chicago. Her kitchen experience includes stages in some of the best restaurants in the world. She’s a good and empathetic writer.

But I don’t trust this particular review. She has given Smoque Steak a rating which would put it on par with Asador Bastian in the steakhouse realm (3 stars from her colleague Nick Kindelsperger), and very close to the 3.5 starred Daisies, a review she wrote. Louisa has only given one four-star review to Kasama, which means three stars is a very high standard for her.

In the review of Smoque Steak

1)    She spends a lot of time speaking about Sorkin to whom she acknowledges she gave consultative feedback on the sear quality of their steaks (I think it’s honorable and awesome that she discloses this)

2)    She acknowledges that Smoque’s ribeye cooking technique isn’t up to her personal standard (something I also talked about in my review)

3)    She suggests in the nicest way possible that two desserts she had were not up to par and that the restaurant would benefit from a full-time pastry chef rather than duties shared by Sorkin and savory chef Dylan Lipe

4)    She barely mentions service, except to suggest that the Smoque Steak experience starts with the staff asking if you know about their steaks – I’d argue this is bad service, because it forces a person to potentially acknowledge something they don’t know – something humans don’t usually like to do – in order to receive critical knowledge. I think you just tell the guest and let them stop you if they’re not interested.

In some ways, Louisa’s review mirrors my own, or even the Infatuation’s (they were more brutal, but not wrong) except for acknowledgement of the service issues, which I discussed at more length.

There are a lot of ways to think about three stars, but ultimately it means you’re probably in the top 10% of Chicago restaurants. And yet, what we’re told by the Trib here is that Smoque Steak probably needs a pastry chef, their most expensive steak is cooked in a suboptimal way, and that service isn’t worth a mention. 

I suspect that there’s no acknowledgement of the quality of service, because it was at best average, or as I experienced consistently on my visit, below average. I spoke to a couple readers last week who’d just visited. They suggested that they enjoyed the food more than I did, but that the service was “not good”. Our experience might not be Louisa’s, so I asked Louisa for comment, but have not yet received a response. I will post one if she provides one.

Beyond the service, if all the other things I’ve mentioned are true, you can’t yet be in that high three-star echelon. It would mean that Smoque is almost equivalent to Daisies, which has two of the best chefs working in Chicago, Joe Frillman – savory – and Leigh Omilinsky – pastry- at the highest level.

Daisies has a seasoned GM and incredible wine curator in Katherine Sturgill. Comparing wine lists, Smoque’s is fine, tight and short, but also full of Wine.com wines like Lucien Albrecht, Dr. Loosen Riesling, and Ridge Zinfandel. 

Daisies’ list is deep and full of a lot of hard to find (i.e. not at Binny’s) wines from natural and small producers. The list is augmented with detailed flavor notes, whereas Smoque’s is divided between body-styles (light vs full vs medium).  There is more helpful service in the Daisies silent wine list than there is in some of the speaking staff at Smoque Steak.

If we look at food quality and consistency, Asador Bastian, which also got three stars from the Tribune is headed by Doug Psaltis, who ran Alain Ducasse’s Monaco empire, whereas Smoque Steak is run by a chef, Dylan Lipe, who previously headed up slightly above average BBQ restaurants.

A person who runs BBQ restaurants absolutely can be as good as a Michelin-rated chef – you might even argue given the success of Smoque BBQ, Sorkin is that exact someone. Certainly I had some issues with Psaltis’ last project, but also I ate one of the best octopus dishes of my life at Andros. I did not experience anything as highly elevated at Smoque Steak. 

Smoque says their steaks are USDA prime, but does not discuss their provenance or much detail. A prime rating indicates the level of fat marbling but does not equal flavor. A cow raised poorly can still get a prime rating. One of my criticisms of Smoque’s meat is that it was relatively flavorless. Blindfolded I would have had a hard time deciding what was the tenderloin or the ribeye. 

I have not had Bastian’s steaks, but everything from the details of their chops pre-cooking (sexy hardcore dry-aging) to their provenance, Japan, California, Spain, etc. to their age -30 months plus = more flavor than young steaks- are on full display. Chu’s colleague Kindelsperger was charmed by their quality. Bastian is proud of what they serve as the highest level, whereas Smoque Steak is proud of serving something good enough at the right price point. 

Asador Bastian

Asador Bastian on Instagram: “Chef Doug Psaltis and his team select the best beef from former breeding cattle that mature in relaxed environments and feed on grass in open pastures. They are processed at an older age than regular cattle which results in beef rich flavor and beautifully marbled. We cut in-house daily to ensure the best quality. View the selection in our butcher room on your visit.”

June 23, 2023

There is nothing wrong with what Smoque Steak is doing. I think it’s an amazing business move to identify a hole in the market and fill it. But making a smart business decision does not equate to delivering a restaurant on par star-wise with a restaurant that’s going above and beyond that baseline, even if it is significantly more expensive.

You want something that starts like Asador Bastian’s meat (above) or do you want something that ends up barely seared like this from Smoque steak?

Giving Smoque Steak a similar rating to Daisies or Bastian is like suggesting to the consumer that a $15 bottle of red blend from Trader Joe’s is equivalent to a $500 bottle of highly rated first growth Bordeaux. It’s possible, but highly unlikely. It’s also why I don’t give star ratings anymore. They’re useful for the paper to garner clicks and buzz from people who don’t like to read, but they often create a false equivalency that hurts the consumer.  Reviews should be qualitative.  While I don’t give stars, I probably would have given Smoque Steak 1.5 stars based on my visit.

If Louisa did get better service at Smoque, was it because the Tribune has decided to feature both her and Nick prominently as famous faces, launching their critic careers with full color pics and doubling down on them as prominent “out” personalities? 

Many argue a restaurant can’t change the food at the last minute, even if they know you’re a critic, but as Ruth Reichl’s famous Le Cirque review proved, service can be adjusted on a dime if they know who you are.

That souffle has sunken.  The current Trib critics can’t be anonymous, but maybe their successors should be. One thing the Trib can do however, is separate the roles of feature writers and food critics. I suspect, because the hedge fund that owns the Trib is trying to save money, they require Nick and Louisa to also be reporters.

This forces them to establish relationships with folks like Sorkin while also being asked to evaluate Sorkin’s work in a critical context which creates a tension or the Mahomesian-dilemma of a critic pulling their objectivity because they’ve developed a friendly relationship with their source. Louisa, for example, did this “first look” of Smoque Steak with Sorkin before she wrote her review. To create some separation, if she does the first look, then maybe Nick should write the review.

I doubt there’s anything nefarious here but the headline for the Trib Review includes the phrase “a different kind of steak” which is Smoque Steak’s actual marketing tagline. It’s like the Trib is carrying Smoque’s PR water or at best indulging in lazy headline writing.

Because I get emails and comments from readers disagreeing with my own critical assessments, I am aware that every restaurant experience is personal.  Louisa’s lack of anonymity or dual reporting roles may not have created a situation where the Smoque crew could “Mahomes” her. Maybe the Smoque team, as I believed they would, has finally elevated the experience to a three-star level. But given that Louisa outlined many of the same criticisms I had, I suspect there’s something else going on.

Who cares? Is anyone really getting hurt here?  While I believe in what I do and appreciate what The Infatuation does, the Tribune is still the most widely read food criticism in Chicago. They may not be able to make or break restaurants in the way they once could, but they have enormous influence. The decisions they make, just as the decisions Louis Vuitton makes can influence what ends up on the shelf at Old Navy, have an impact on chefs, consumers, and the industry. 

If the big papers say anonymity is stupid, or arm’s length standards don’t matter, or it’s ok to be friends with the chef, or go to media previews and take free meals, then that trickles down and devolves the occupation of critical food writing.

Also, if you’re Joe Frillman and you’ve sourced a significant part of your produce from a local farm and made investments in a full time pastry chef, or you’re Doug Psaltis and you endured the boot camps of Alain Ducasse and Thomas Keller to get where you are, which is sourcing the best of the best and employing the highest techniques to your food and you get the same or a similar rating as someone who is not making these sacrifices, what message do you hear? 

I don’t know that Frillman or Psaltis would change what they do, but chefs and restaurateurs coming up will decide to take short cuts, or “Wal Mart” their restaurants because they won’t see the hard work or extra steps as worthwhile. I am, as I have always said, looking for art as a diner. If art is no longer being pursued, I might as well invite Nick Bosa to smash me in the solar plexus and put me out of my misery.