Here, in the deep of winter, Sunday night discontent begins to weigh upon even the most lighthearted of us.
As we contemplate the inevitability of Monday morning–this usually happens right around dinnertime, often as we are peering into the refrigerator–we may ask ourselves such questions as Why do we toil our lives away? Why has God forsaken us with this barren season? Who ate the last can of SpaghettiOs?
The best prescription for this particular brand of malaise is, of course, a proper Sunday Night Dinner (or SND), which, however vague our definition may seem at first, is worth pursuing for its exceptional mood-elevating properties.
First, a real SND should be simple, but it cannot be found in your own kitchen. Scrambling not entirely fresh eggs or other attempts to “whip something up” will not only leave you unsatisfied and feeling sorry for yourself but may very well incite revolt in your household. SND must be prepared by other hands, in order to prevent frittering away your last few moments of freedom. Sunday Night Dinner must always be the same: This is no time for surprises and anxiety; you’ll get plenty of that tomorrow.
The point is that your final meal before the work week begins should not be much of a bother, but it should be worth the small effort of throwing on your coat and hopping in a cab. And, according to Hugo Ralli, co-owner of Gibsons Steak House and Hugo’s Frog Bar and manager of RL/Ralph Lauren, it should also take place early in the evening, to get one home in time to watch one’s favorite television shows. “People make a point of mentioning that they want to be back by 8 or 9 o’clock,” in time, he suspects, to catch “Curb Your Enthusiasm.”
“Fifteen years ago, practically no restaurants were open on Sunday night,” adds Ralli. “We weren’t doing any business, literally, for two years–maybe 30 or 40 covers. Now, we never do less than 400, mostly locals, who start coming in at around 4:30 or 5 o’clock.”
Mr. Lauren is sure as heck not serving steam-table fare; for this diner, however, the perfect SND is the downscale-sounding chicken hash at RL (115 E. Chicago Ave.; 312-475-1100), which seems to have been designed for this very meal. The place is elegant but not stuffy (just like the Ralph persona) and there’s always a fire roaring away in the cushy front bar. The food is simple and sublime without being frou-frou (steak tartare, lamb stew, bananas foster, lobster bisque), and on Sunday night you can walk in without a reservation, and the staff treats you like a regular, which a lot of the diners actually are.
The chicken hash is not on the dinner menu, perhaps because it looks and tastes just like something that would only be on the breakfast menu (that’s the beauty part). But they’ll make it for you anyway, if you ask nicely, with a pleading look on your face. It is nothing more than a plate of tender, chopped-up chicken; potatoes; peas; corn and a little bit of black truffle, and it’s all topped with two poached eggs, which make a pleasantly damp mess once punctured. It would probably be a good idea to start with some snails, or a healthy spinach salad, but I like to go the all-white route and order the side dish of potatoes gratin, even though the dish is already loaded with potatoes, because these are whipped and topped have a crunchy cheese topping. It makes me feel like a big baby in a big nursery, but with waiters. What could be better? Also, you should eat all the bread and butter you want and have a beer or a glass of wine.
One final note: Sunday Night Dinner is very personal, and one should not judge others regarding their choices. Which is to say: Mine is the only truly perfect menu, but to each his own. Below are the Sunday Night Dinner habits of some other aficionados. Now may you greet the frigid darkness gladly, with an open heart and an empty stomach.
A lot of Lakeview denizens in the ’80s first encountered the then exotic cuisine of Thailand thanks to a plucky new restaurant called the Bangkok, now at 3542 N. Halsted St. (773-327-2870).
This classic eatery began in another, nearby location, boasting tacky wood paneling. But even then, on Sundays, the Bangkok’s all-inclusive, all-you-can-eat buffet, enabled novice Thai diners to sample everything from satay to nam sod, from red curry to pad thai, and become an instant expert. Thai cuisine is omnipresent now, but the Sunday spread at the Bangkok, now festooned with much more authentic Thai decor, is still one of the best, most filling and most delectable treats on the North Side.
–Sid Smith
Dinner out on a Sunday isn’t just a lark, it’s a philosophy. It stretches the weekend. Many people begin to surrender to the gray sobriety of Monday by Sunday afternoon. They plop in front of the TV, then the gloom sets in and suddenly it’s Monday.
But dinner out makes Sunday feel more like a Saturday. The prospect of Monday doesn’t look so bad then either.
In Lake Geneva, Wis., I want the feeling of going out but without the loud aggravation. That drives me to the cozy privacy of Houlihan’s (111 Center St., Lake Geneva, Wis.; 262-248-7047), nestled in the Cove of Lake Geneva, an all-suite hotel near the lakefront.
Nicely appointed in dark wood and stained glass, with reliably good food and drink, my consistent Sunday night meal is the classic Reuben sandwich with an impulsive selection from among the vodka martinis. The most recent: a Beautiful Martini, with Ketel One Citroen and Chambord raspberry liqueur. My wife had stuffed chicken breast accompanied by French onion soup. Her comfort food comes at the end: creme brulee.
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–Ross Werland
Because of health concerns, I’ve had to limit my eating of barbecue in the last few years. But because it’s all about moderation, baby, I treat myself on certain Sundays to ribs–a special treat due to the fact that I do most of the cooking because my wife works on the weekends, and I need a break.
There is only one place I go for ribs: Lem’s Bar-B-Que House (311 E. 75th St.; 773-994-2428). I only eat rib tips, so I always order a large order with mild barbecue sauce on the side, because the tips are that good. I get an extra order of fries with mild sauce on them, because my wife has to have something drenched. I get extra cups of mild sauce so I can dip, because ribs without sauce is like a day without orange juice.
It’s nothing big or fancy or elaborate; just a major treat on what I consider to be the quietest night of the week, the best time to treat yourself.
–Allan Johnson
The thing about Sunday dinner at RJ Grunts (2056 N. Lincoln Park West; 773-929-5363) is that my daughter and I get to go there in our jammies. We live 10 flights up, directly over the restaurant, and we think of the place as an extension of our kitchen. We like to have Sunday supper early–at around 5 p.m. or so, but we try to time it so that the Lincoln Park Zoo-going families are already bundling their cranky toddlers into their snowsuits and heading home as we’re being seated in a booth next to the window.
One reason I love RJ Grunts is its steady ’70s vibe, with its floor-to-ceiling photos of gorgeous hippy-chick waitresses and a soundtrack from Bachman Turner Overdrive. My daughter orders the bacon cheeseburger. I’m a fickle eater and have tried skipping around the menu–one week it’s the cornflake-encrusted fried chicken with macaroni and cheese, the next week it’s a bowl of chili and a trip to the “world’s first salad bar.” These excursions are always a mistake. Bacon cheeseburgers must be eaten on Sunday night. An extra basket of home-cooked potato chips is an excellent idea. We must drink Diet Coke, I have to have an extra serving of coleslaw, and we split a chocolate shake for dessert.
–Amy Dickinson
It’s funny how much of an appetite you can build during a Sunday afternoon of napping and lounging. After such strenuous activity, reward yourself with a leisurely dinner at Bistrot Margot (1437 N. Wells St.; 312-587-3660).
The low-key atmosphere–soft lights, charmingly mismatched china, French ’60s pop hits playing in the background–is almost as soothing as the cozy fare. My favorite: onion soup (a hearty lentil with ham was also available on the night of my visit and is suitable for one who has spent the whole day asleep as opposed to just the afternoon) followed by a piping-hot order of steak frites and a glass of Merlot. Eating just half of the mountain of fries will leave room for creme brulee and coffee. Living in the neighborhood, I sometimes entertain the idea of walking home, which surely would burn off the meal’s 19,876 calories. At the very least, I always leave the restaurant saying, “Let’s walk” before catching a cab.
–Jacqueline Fitzgerald
Sunday night dinner for me is an extended family affair. Whether it’s me and my mom, my sister and her family or my brother and his family, or all of us, we choose to frequent Applebee’s Neighborhood Grill & Bar (6656 W. Grand Ave.; 773-836-7696). Whatever the size of my crew, the staff at Applebee’s is always accommodating with very little wait and friendly service.
Coming from a family of persnickety eaters, the menu has something for those who want the basics (hamburgers, pizza), the filling (pasta, steak) and the healthy (salads).
I usually choose the appetizer sampler from the Shareable Starters menu. Although it’s on the appetizer list, it’s more than enough to be an entree with mozzarella sticks, spinach and artichoke dip, cheese quesadillas and boneless Buffalo wings.
My sister and I usually order a Strawberry Daiquiri and reminisce about the days when we became legal. It was the first drink we knew to order.
–Regina Robinson
Sunday dinner is about so much more than the food, which is why John’s Place (1202 W. Webster Ave.; 773-525-6670) is the perfect weekend closer. A fire always roars in the fireplace, the hardwood floors and warm yellow walls act like a giant bear hug, and the owner (that’s right, John) is often spotted walking table-to-table chatting up the patrons.
After soaking up the ambience and emptying the bread basket, you really should order a meal. May I suggest my all-time favorite, can’t miss, never wavering in its deliciousness: the turkey burger with sauteed mushrooms and grilled onions and a side of mashed sweet potatoes. Accompanied by a glass (or two) of the Omrah Shiraz, this meal will prove the perfect finale to any kind of weekend and fortify its consumer for even the most grueling week ahead.
–Heidi Stevens
Sunday is family day, and a day for nostalgia. A common Sunday destination in my youth was the now-shuttered Tollgate Inn, which had relish trays, kiddie cocktails and, best of all, a buffet with fried chicken and all sorts of salads. A child’s delight. Dell Rhea’s Chicken Basket (645 Joliet Rd., Willowbrook; 630-325-0780) has all that nostalgia–and buttermilk biscuits to die for.
It’s Route 66 chic (it’s located on that famous road), with checkered tablecloths, a fireplace, no-nonsense waitresses and a gloriously old-fashioned salad bar. And, oh, good fried chicken too.
–Linda Bergstrom