Restaurant notes: S.K.Y.

S.K.Y.

      My sons are foodies, and I am always glad when they pick the restaurant, as I know I'm going to dip my toe into something new and noteworthy.

     Saturday it was brunch at S.K.Y. at 2300 N. Lincoln Park West, in the elegant Belden-Stratford apartment building, whose stunning lobby entrance S.K.Y. shares with the venerable Mon Ami Gabi.
     The room is large and lovely — elegant in an austere, mottled concrete fashion — if fairly empty at 12 noon on a Saturday, not a good sign for them. Things were certainly hopping next door at Mon Ami Gabi. I cast a covetous glance in its direction as we swept past.

     Service at S.K.Y. was impeccable. We were six adults and a baby, and we were sat front and center and never rushed. The cuisine is ... what? Asian fusion? The brunch menu offered bibimbop, pork belly noodles and poke, so that sounds right. The Michelin Guide called it "globally minded." The restaurant's unfortunate name stands for the initials of the chef's wife, Seon Kyung Yuk. Myself, I wouldn't monogram a towel, never mind a restaurant. S.K.Y. used to be in Pilsen, which seems an odd fit, like opening a rib joint on Devon Avenue. It relocated to Lincoln Park last July.
     The appetizers were a hit, the black truffle coquettes, filled with aged white cheddar, light and piping hot, the Maine lobster dumplings stuffed with generous helpings of buttery lobster.
     I had trouble finding a main course item that suited my fancy (with days to consider, now that checking out the menu, ahead of time online, is something of a dining tradition). Sizzling Sisig and Short Rib Shakshuka didn't strike me as brunch fare. Maybe I'm losing my exploratory spark. I settled on what I thought was a safe bet, a French Onion Cheeseburger au Jus. Dipping burgers into beef stock is not my idea of a good time, and the crispy gruyere round standing in for the burger's slice of cheese didn't float my boat either. For a $21.95 burger, it was just okay. My wife had Hot Smoked Salmon Tartine on toast, and that seemed a smarter order. She gave me several generous bites.

     The brunch pastry tier for dessert allowed us to sample the place's baked goods — my wife and I were big fans of the petite cornmeal madeleines, while the rest were sweet and ordinary. Still, dividing them in six pieces and passing them around was a fun process.
     The most intriguing item was a slice of "local toast" on the menu for $8.88, which I was tempted to try, in tribute to the $24 bread basket at Balthazar in New York City — the .88 in all the prices being some kind of numerological luck thing. But we already had carbs aplenty, and I decided to leave the toast a mystery.
     My younger son and his wife have been to S.K.Y. before and love the place, so I can assume that my tepid reaction says more about my blunted, aging sensibilities and less about the restaurant's quality, or lack of same. My wife and I decided that we'd go back, if pressed, but would vastly prefer to return to the nearby North Pond, in a similar price range and just better in the grub department. Still, the company was excellent, and a good time was had by all.