On a recent Friday night, 27 steps below street level, I ate the best chocolate souffle of my life.
Airy but rich and perfectly bittersweet, this warm confection is not the kind of thing you expect to enjoy in your average nightclub.
But Billy Dec’s new venture, called The Underground, aspires to be more than your run-of-the-mill club. (Plus, the club knew that we were coming.)
In fact, the whole buzz surrounding this trendy River North spot–which had its soft opening in late December but generated ample chatter for months before–has been about its novelty, exclusivity and an aura of mystery.
The club is supposed to be open to the public, granting admission based on availability and reservations. But on the evening we went, The Underground was still operating on a guest list-only basis. Still, that didn’t stop curious non-guests from shivering outside in hopes of gaining admission.
And it didn’t stop hundreds of privileged guests from packing the room so tight that a trip to the bathroom felt like a journey through some treacherous bleached-blond forest.
Yep, despite The Underground’s secret subterranean location, relative exclusivity and culinary sophistication, at the end of the day–or night–this collaboration involving Dec, Brad Young and Arturo Gomez is actually a lot like most “hottish” nightclubs in town. Hallmarks include claustrophobia-inducing crowds, Trixies aplenty and noise levels that make sane conversations impossible.
Guests enter at a door near the northeast corner of Dearborn and Illinois Streets under an old sign on the building’s facade that simply says Boyce Building. Invitees wait in line, a host scans a list for your name, a bouncer checks your ID and then welcomes you to The Underground. More staffers escort you down the stairs until you reach the main club. To the left is the coat check ($3 per person), and straight ahead the room opens up into a stripped-down version of the former Harry’s Velvet Lounge. Pipes maze through the ceiling, concrete pillars rise up from the ground and caged emergency lights illuminate the crowd, creating a bomb-shelter effect.
The staff–including Dec–sports combat-style duds, including camo, khakis, wool military jackets and combat boots/stilettos. On the night we visited, the high-profile owner was greeting guests at the door and circulating in the room.
The room is lined with leather-esque gray and black booths. One wall sports a kind of war-room motif with illuminated world maps outlined in pinpricks through sheet metal. There’s a deejay booth, where the gifted DJ White Shadow was playing mixes with sly winks to pop from the last three decades–from The Jackson 5 and AC/DC to Gwen Stefani and Jim Jones.
Sadly, when our party got up to dance, we pushed, mooshed and smooshed our way around the bunker in vain. “There is no official dance floor in the club,” The Underground publicist Maura Daley noted later. “You can dance anywhere you feel the need to dance.” Unless you feel the need to dance on a designated floor. We finally carved out a little dance spot in front of the deejay booth, dodging traffic to the bathroom and a couple of wildly staggering girls. Despite the terrific tunes, we gave up.
Back at the table our food and drinks had arrived. This impressive feast included a trio of mini kobe burgers topped with brie and medjool date aioli, warm soft pretzels with a lovely sweet mustard, fresh strawberries with a bowl of sugar, Philly Cheese egg rolls (called Mini Rockit Pockits), and a cheese and meat plate that included prosciutto, salami, three cheeses, candied pecans, dried fruits and sliced baguette. Later the unordered but not unwelcome flourless chocolate souffles arrived. All of these treats (with the exception of the egg rolls, which we found bland) were served with an astonishing level of care and quality–especially since they were priced $4-$8.
Drinks with spy-friendly names like espionage, the antidote, 007 and agent orange are strong and dramatically presented. Che’s Revolution ($11) is a jungle-green revelation featuring Green de Menthe, fresh raspberries, Effen raspberry vodka, lime wedges and lemon-lime soda with fronds of wheat grass sprouting along the rim. Beaches of Normandy ($12) packs a potent punch with its blend of Bombay gin, Grey Goose vodka, Hennessy, fresh lime juice, simple sugar, lemon juice, orange juice and a dash of grenadine.
Because The Underground is still limiting admission to the club, we had to tell them in advance that we were coming for this story. So it’s fair to assume that some of the highly attentive service we experienced might have been a bit unusual. That said, the staff seemed ultra-competent and despite the big youthful crowd, things remained well under control.
Bathrooms feature clean, elegant stalls, a well-equipped larder of toiletries and breath fresheners and an attendant who ensures you will never want for a paper towel.
As veteran clubgoers in our 30s and 40s, we did feel a little old for the room. But if you’re looking for exceptional nightclub food along with the usual loud crowds and a certain exclusive feel, it may be worth making a reservation to get into this buzzing bunker.
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The Underground
Where: Located in the basement of the Boyce Building at Illinois and Dearborn Streets.
How to get in: They are still working off a small guest list generated through the staff’s friends and family but are also admitting the general public (with a $20 cover) on the basis of availability and table reservations which can be made by calling Rockit Ranch Productions: 312-943-7600
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meng@tribune.com
