Restaurants in Markham

Brussels sprouts get a bad rap. Some people accuse the leafy greens of tasting bitter. Others place blame on a repugnant odor that wafts around the buds when cooked. Executive Chef Lee Guidry, who mans the kitchen at Sushisamba in Chicago, has a soft spot for the sprouts in his culinary heart. “I am a simple guy,” he said. “I can do just [sprouts coated in] olive oil and lemon juice.”   Though the most common ways of cooking brussels sprouts include boiling, steaming, stir-frying, and roasting, Chef Guidry prefers a different method: grilling. At Sushisamba, he brings brussels sprouts into the kitchen on special occasions and chars them on a robata, or Japanese grill. A hearty coating of yuzu kosho butter—a blend of butter and Japanese seasoning made from fermented yuzu peel, chili peppers, and salt—finishes off the easy and delicious recipe that can be re-created at home.   Robata-Grilled Brussels Sprouts   What You Need Brussels sprouts, as many as your heart desires Olive oil, enough to coat sprouts Salt and pepper Yuzu kosho butter, enough to coat sprouts   What You Do 1. Cut off the stem and trim the tough outer leaves of each sprout. Cut in half lengthwise. 2. Bring a large pot of water to boil. Add salt and blanch sprouts quickly. 3. Cool off sprouts and then toss with olive oil and a pinch or two of salt and pepper. 4. Char the sprouts on a grill. Chef Guidry uses a robata, or Japanese grill, but any grill will do. 5. In a mixing bowl, toss sprouts with yuzu kosho butter. 6. Compare the sprouts’ delicate, charred edges to those of the framed parchment maps you keep inside your car.   The eclectic eatery that is Sushisamba—think illuminated paper cocoons spread across the ceiling and a sunken-in dining pit edged in dangling beads—pumps out these delicious treats on Chef Guidry’s command. Ask nicely and maybe he will command it.

To many Chicagoans, the neighborhoods south of Roosevelt Road seem to be a culinary wasteland. To Jimalita Tillman, Chicago native and executive director of the Harold Washington Cultural Center and Performing Arts Theatre, fine-dining opportunities definitely exist on the South Side—if you give them a chance. Because many of these restaurants depend on word of mouth, Tillman said, the advertising budgets of their more northern competitors often trump their oral marketing, and so she often spends “all day” giving South Side restaurant recommendations to area visitors and theatergoers. “There are many great places [to eat] throughout these areas,” she said. “It really depends on what you’re in the mood for.” And if you're in the mood for a little musical and cultural Chicago history to pair with your meal, you don't have to travel far from the landmark performing-arts center. The Harold Washington Cultural Center, in the former location of the historical Regal Theater where the likes of Ella Fitzgerald once scatted, is right in the heart of the Black Metropolis—a region marked by the culture and southern-inspired music scene that developed during the Great Migration. Today, Bronzeville is still flavored with leftovers from its swinging past. To savor alongside your meal, we paired each of Tillman’s restaurant recommendations with a few musical, historical, and cultural tidbits. H-Dogs | 4655 S. Martin Luther King Jr. Dr. It’s the quick and personable service that makes this gourmet hot-dog eatery a standout, Tillman said. Of course, Chef Cliff Rome serves the usual Chicago-style hot dog, but it’s the varied wiener and burger options he creates that color H-Dogs’ menu with the fine-dining flair he perfected while studying in Paris. The Healthy Hound—a grilled veggie dog with sprouts, roasted peppers, red onions, and cucumbers—sits alongside salmon burgers, turducken sausages, and portobello-mushroom sandwiches without the least bit of tattletaling or fighting over who had the mustard first. Sweet-potato or truffle fries complete the gourmet-on-the-go experience. Bite of History: The gourmet hot-dog diner sits in a historical building that was once known as 47th Street Marketplace. Before a 2010 fire destroyed the building, it was considered a symbol of the revitalization of Bronzeville and housed Tillman’s Spoken Word Cafe—one of the original hosts of HBO’s Def Poetry series hosted by hip-hop artist and actor Mos Def. Pearl’s Place | 3901 S. Michigan Ave. “I’m a breakfast head,” said Tillman—as are many in the crowd of diners waiting to get inside for brunch on any given Sunday. The kitchen cooks up a mix of southern and soul food—yes, there’s a difference—but Pearl’s Place sprinkles it with the right amount of creole flavor. After sampling Pearl’s juicy yet crispy fried chicken, sautéed salmon croquettes, or all-day breakfasts of vegetable omelets or homestyle pancakes, it seems only right to finish with a bite or two of peach cobbler or sweet-potato pie. Bite of History: The interior decor, with album jackets and vinyl records lining the walls, features a photo story of the neighborhood’s jazz and blues history with jazz legends Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, and Lena Horne—all of whom graced the stage at the Regal Theater during Bronzeville’s musical heyday. Norman’s Bistro | 1001 E. 43rd St. The bistro’s entrees— including vegetable confetti ravioli, smoked cranberry salmon, and the Great Duck Burger—offer an upscale taste-bud experience at “South Side prices,” Tillman said. From the food to the decor, presentation is an art in this sleek and classy spot featuring creole-inspired American food with a Brazilian flair. In the exposed-brick, art-filled wine bar, sommeliers pour from an extensive list of wines. Separate from the dining room, the intimate setting of the bar creates an ideal spot for the happy-hour crowd. Bite of Culture: On Sundays at 9 p.m., the bistro hosts a live jazz jam session. Or make an appointment and walk over to Gallery Guichard—housed in a turn-of-the-20th-century Italiante row house—to peruse its African-diaspora art and blown glass, sculptures, and photography by local as well as international artists.

I don't eat deep-dish pizza at very many places. Too often, the pies are unappealingly dense, smothered in unnecessary amounts of cheese and overly sweet tomato sauces. But whenever friends want a real taste of Chicago, I do have one place I recommend: Pequod's Pizza. I always make it clear to friends that the thing that makes Pequod's better than any of its longer-established, better-marketed competitors is the crust. Instead of a doughy base, the ingredients and toppings sit atop a layer of firm yet slightly crumbly crust that feels and tastes almost like a cross between corn bread and a pasty shell. This layer never seems to get soggy, although that may be because I always devour my slices so quickly. But the real reward is along the edge. Where the crust meets the lip of the pan, the chefs add a layer of cheese, which caramelizes in the oven. This salty, crunchy ring of blackened cheese circles the entire pizza and lends a delicious bit of textural contrast to those precious last few bites. I do my best to explain why this crust is unexplainably delicious as I arrive at the corner of Webster and Clybourn Avenues with three friends—Chicagoans all—who have not yet been to Pequod's. Flat-screen televisions show the Ottawa Senators dismantling the Montreal Canadiens when we walk inside, though the flags and banners adorning almost every wall assure us that if there were a Blackhawks game to be found, we would definitely be watching that instead. We place our order for a large deep-dish pizza with sausage and black olives and, after one-and-a-half pitchers of Goose Island 312, a server arrives with a telltale cast-iron pan fresh from the oven. I've spent so long hyping the crust that I feel obligated to take a second before we start eating and remind everyone that Pequod's knows what it's doing with the toppings. Here, balance is key. There is no shortage of melted, stringy mozzarella, although not so much that it overwhelms the other flavors. The chunky sauce is judiciously applied and features enough herbs to temper the sweetness that can become so cloying on other restaurants' pizzas. At our dinner, the black olives are just fine, but the cloud-shaped dollops of sweet italian sausage—piled on without any casing—are the standout, adding a succulent meatiness and unmistakable hints of fennel. One slice apiece is more than enough for each of us, and I ask everyone for their thoughts once we've finished. The feedback is universally positive: one friend hails the pizza as the "best deep dish I've had in a while," while another goes even further, saying that it's "one of the best deep dishes I've ever had." This is pretty high praise, though I have to admit that their rhetoric falls just short of my own zealous devotion to Pequod's. Fortunately, there's still time to compare thoughts and opinions before leaving. We still have half a pitcher of beer to finish.