You can sense the eagerness to please at The Shark Bar. You can hear it in the friendly greeting, see it in the casually sophisticated decor. More often than not, you can taste it in skillfully prepared Southern and soul dishes.
But there are more than a few potholes on this road of good intentions. Five months old, The Shark Bar isn’t yet running as smoothly as it should.
The restaurant certainly has a very good chance to succeed in Chicago. The original Shark Bar in New York’s Upper West Side is a popular hangout, and this, the first sequel effort (a Los Angeles satellite opens next month, with more on the way), already has developed something of a following.
The food is down-home Southern, though with enough twists that chef Michael Franklin, shipped over here from New York, prefers calling his cooking “New Southern.” Labels aside, this is unfussy comfort food, made with at least some concessions to lighter palates.
For instance, appetizer choices might include a vegetarian wrap (a pair of tortillas packed with a mixture of cooked vegetables with rice and collard greens) served with a citrusy relish of blackeyed peas and corn. In New York, this is called a Soul Roll, and the veggie mix is blanketed in puff pastry; in Chicago, this tortilla-wrap version adds welcome lightness to the menu choices.
The house hot sauce is an incendiary blend of ketchup, lemon juice and various peppers; it’s served on the side with a number of starters, including grilled oysters (cooked sparingly, leaving the fresh flavors intact), catfish strips (deep-fried in flour and cornmeal, crispy and sweet) crab cakes (nicely textured and hefty), and the Harlem chicken wings (lightly floured and crispy).
Rib tips, an occasional special, are meatier than most, culled from St. Louis-style ribs and slathered with a tangy but not overpowering sauce.
First to the table is a basket of yummy baked goods. There’s excellent cornbread, with just the right degree of sweetness, a couple of crunchy biscuits and two terrific sweet-potato muffins. I’m not fond of the butter — individual pats between pieces of paper — but everything else is delectable.
Entrees are more hit or miss. Hits include the blackened tilapia, in which the lively blackening spices did not overwhelm the mild fish. Jerk Cornish hen was a similarly modulated effort, the meaty bird slathered with a mix of jerk seasonings and a sweetish barbecue sauce. Shrimp etouffee is a bit more assertive, as one would expect, but the spices never threaten to dominate the dish.
Filet mignon is offered grilled or blackened; my waitress forgot to ask my preference when I ordered it, so grilled is what I got. It’s a good piece of sirloin, though not so good I’d be inclined to hang a filet mignon label on it. But it was cooked exactly right, and the accompanying mushroom sauce was inoffensive.
A special seafood combo was mostly fried, none of it especially well. Curiously, the catfish and crab cake were mushy and boring in the combination platter, even though they’re fine as individual appetizers. Two grilled shrimp were the only highlights of this dish.
Far worse was another special, this one chicken-fried steak. Now in all fairness to this kitchen, I don’t think I’ve ever had a chicken-fried steak that I would term digestible, but this effort was close to nightmarish. Please, please, please don’t let it on the menu.
Most entrees come with two side dishes, selected from a dozen choices. Most of this tastes like steam-table stuff, although the corn on the cob is usually pretty good. The major exception is Franklin’s collard greens, which are excellent — sprinkled with a little apple-cider vinegar for tangy and sweet notes, and mixed with nibbles of smoked turkey.
Desserts are hefty and sweet; it’s a good idea to share them with a friend. The individual peach cobbler is nicely done; the sweet potato pie had good flavors but poor texture, as though it had been heated in a microwave just before serving.
Service is a real mixed bag. One night, our waitress knew the wine list cold and made sensible suggestions; the next visit our waitress knew nothing about wine, including the part about refilling glasses. On a third visit, the same busboy who so diligently refilled the water glasses and bread basket cleared our appetizer plates and placed our clearly soiled knives (one had been digging into the rib tips) back on the table. This is one of those abominably bad practices that drives me nuts.
And somebody please fix the kitchen door, which bangs like a sledgehammer every time someone passes through, which is just about all the time.
The restaurant has a reasonably varied wine list; prices are above average. Cocktails can really cut into the budget, however; a Shark Bite, one of those fruity rum drinks served in a large tumbler, runs $7, and a vodka martini was an eye-popping $9.25. (By contrast, food prices are extremely reasonable; most entrees are less than $15, and none is higher than $19.)
The decor is simple and comfortable — exposed ductwork, hardwood floors and brick walls decorated with vintage photographs of Harlem nightclubs, contemporary artwork (some for sale) and vintage posters of movies boasting “an all-colored cast.”
One of The Shark Bar’s best assets is its rooftop patio, which offers splendid eastern views of the river — as pretty a view as any restaurant in Chicago offers. The only catch is you can’t dine up here; it’s strictly cocktails and appetizers.
The Shark Bar has promise, but if it intends to swim with Chicago’s big fish, it has some laps to go.
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The Shark Bar
(star)
212 N. Canal St.
312-559-9057
Open: Dinner Mon.-Sun., lunch Mon.-Fri., brunch Sun.
Entree prices: $11.95-$18.95
Credit cards: A, M, V
Reservations: Strongly recommended on weekends
Other: Valet parking available
Rating system
(star) (star) (star) (star) Outstanding
(star) (star) (star) Excellent
(star) (star) Very Good
(star) Good
Satisfactory
Unsatisfactory
Reviews are based on no fewer than two visits. The reviewer makes every effort to remain anonymous. Meals are paid for by the Tribune.
