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Dining at Dorado
This Mexican meal packs white tablecloths, bistro influences and that coveted BYOB policy.
Monday Apr 24, 2006.     By Zinny Fandel
Centerstage Chicago Nightlife City Guide Arts

The delicious jicama salad.
photo: Zinny Fandel
Steamer is the best person I know. So great, in fact, that when he offered to pick up the wine for our latest BYOB outing, he cleverly tapped into the deeper meaning of my "I've had a horrid day" moanings and got the brings-a-smile-to-my-face McManus Cabernet Sauvignon.

What it doesn't bring is newness to this column, as we've drank it more than once on the record, so Steamer is off wine-buying duty for a bit. Which could spell trouble for him, because I've been itching to tap into the petal-colored world of rosé...

But, on this occasion, the bottle pick was secondary to the restaurant selection. Tossing aside our lengthy to-try list, we decided to meet in the no man's land that is Foster & Western Avenues for dinner at Dorado, 2301 W. Foster Ave.

It sparked my interest after reading that the chef, Luis Perez, puts a French spin on his Mexican eats (gleaned from the bistro cooking he did under Jack Jones). A BYOB with a hint of French? And white tablecloths? Now we're talking.

We took a seat by the window, took in the airy space and bright colors, and politely informed our server that we were in for the long haul, making pregnant pauses in the service a-OK. My so-so emotions were met with the supreme conviction that I was near starvation (I seriously doubted that my legs had the energy to get my bike north of Montrose several times during my ride) so I planned to feast. We jumped right into the basket of chips (remarkably grease-free, as if they were baked) and a reading of the appetizer menu (also, appropriately, dubbed botanas and hors d'oeuvres).

I expected to find an absolutely crazy-eclectic pairing of tastes, dishes like pommes frites dipped in salsa and stewed rabbit fajitas. But the pairings seem more wise than weird: The sopa de frijoles negros comes accented by grilled bananas, pickled jalapenos and, why not, crème fraiche, and the famed Dorado nachos trade chorizo for smoked duck.

We decided to pair the fruity Cabernet with a little fruit de la mer: two crab cakes served over guacamole and smoked charred tomato sauce. They were pleasantly soft, and went surprisingly well with the mounds of avocado we greedily layered on top. They didn't exactly taste ocean fresh, but Steamer patiently reminded me that we don't exactly live near crabbing waters.

We bit into a jicama salad that was easily my favorite part of the meal: teeming with slivers of the crunchy fruit, it came studded with avocado dressed in a sweet honey vinaigrette that made the avocado taste downright remarkable.

By this point the wine was running thin and my raging hunger was relatively tamed (thank you, chip basket no. 2) so we decided to take the app-and-an-entree diner route. We ordered a round of chipotle shrimp quesadillas (deliciously greasy) and, after realizing we were about to overdose on shrimp and crab, decided to go with the grilled pork tenderloin with whipped Cajun sweet potatoes and grilled vegetables.

I immediately slid my fork onto Steamer's plate for a bite of those whipped potatoes, which turned out to be plenty sweet but not so Cajun. Disappointed by the blandness, I returned to my plate of cheesy goodness, liberally dunking each bite into the sour cream because, you know, I had a bad day.

I had all but lost interest in the pork until Steamer slid a bite onto my plate. The melt-in-you-mouth meat was the definition of tender, and I panicked, desperately trying to pimp my plate of quesadillas (you know you wanna trade...) He shared plenty, and we finished our last bites glancing at the monster slice of cake the table next to us was chipping away at, discussing where we should go for more wine (we drained the bottle before we cleared our plates) and summing up Dorado: Decent as far as food goes, but great for those evenings when you just need a little classy tablecloth action with your BYOB meal.

Zinny Fandel's tales of living the (mostly) BYOB life are intended to be attempted at home and in the community, preferably at BYOB restaurants. If you know of a BYOB spot she simply must tipple at, let her know.