Who would guess that a place called Jezebel was named after the owner’s sainted mother? Opened in July just a block south of Wrigley Field, it’s the brainchild of Farrid Nobahar, who’s half Egyptian, half Iranian, and who wanted to open a Mediterranean restaurant emphasizing Italian food.
Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
My friend Poppy and I argued over which country the decor is meant to represent. I said Italy, citing the little Italian lights in the ceiling that simulate a starry night and a mural that looks like an Italian archway. She said the shelves holding a Chinese bird cage, Spanish vases, and bottles of Italian olive oil show it’s supposed to embody an entire region–unless there’s a country called “faux.” Not that there’s anything wrong with faux. Poppy and I use faux finishes on our faces every day, but never with such dazzling effect as at Jezebel–they’re on the walls, the ornate off-white chairs, and the 1930s-looking bar, where Humphrey Bogart and Claude Rains could have acted cynical. A lot has been done with a little imaginative draping of muslin. You might think this was the work of a set designer, but it’s the combined vision of the owner and Mark Prokopeak, an artist who should consider a career in interior decorating.
Entree standouts include the firm linguine with crisp, grilled fresh vegetables and pistachio pesto ($11.25); golden roasted half-chicken stuffed with spinach, mushrooms, and feta cheese, a dish native to Greece; and tangy slow-grilled, marinated skinless chicken in lemon, olive oil, and herbs ($8.95), Nobahar’s family recipe, of Egyptian origin. The roasted rack of baby lamb ($16.95) with mushrooms and onions is supposedly scented with rosemary, but not enough for us to taste; and skewers of shrimp, artichoke hearts, and tomato grilled with a honey mustard glaze ($13.25) suffer from an overdose of honey. Entrees are served with either basmati or saffron rice and crisp, garlicky green beans. No butter is used in any of Jezebel’s dishes, not even the desserts. Portions are generous, but find room for a side of wonderful sauteed, barely cooked, fresh creamed spinach with Parmesan ($3).
Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): photos/Nathan Mandell.
