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Am I a Snob?

Zinny surprises herself by falling hard for Lincoln Park's Miska Liquors and Nan's Sushi.

Monday Aug 27, 2007.     By Zinny Fandel

Food Feed

Talk about a night of preconceptions-squashing. Before meeting DD for dinner at Nan's Chinese & Sushi Bar, a Chinese-mix-Japanese spot in Lincoln Park, I had my assumptions in a row: One, Lincoln Park would be bursting with wine sellers. Two, any shop named Miska's Wine Beer & Liquors is bound to be a disaster. Three, a restaurant so close to DePaul would inevitably be a no-frills haven for people a lot younger than me. Well, the night proved me wrong...and maybe a bit of a snob.

First, the wine search: Shocking as it may seem, Lincoln Park plays home to close to zero wine shops. Believe me, I checked. There's Binny's to the north and Sam's to the south, but in terms of the 'hood proper, don't expect to find much beyond the selection at Dominick's. I almost gave up the good fight when I came across Miska's Liquors, which sounded unpromising but certainly fit into my "drink where I eat" effort.

I peddled up to the neon-bedecked shop and prepared myself for an onslaught of Amstel Light and Yellow Tail. Oh, snobby, snobby Zinny. The crammed-as-a-package store rocked, with wooden cubbies stacked with a staggering number of pause-worthy bottles. I squeezed past the beer coolers, noting Leffe and Goose Island's Matilda, and hit the wine cooler.

Wowsers. I was hoping to stick with my norm, a Sauvignon Blanc, a grape that even great wine stores don't chill enough of. I stopped counting when I hit 17 different Sauvignon Blanc labels. Unreal. I don't think Sam's even has that.

Most of the bottles cost $10-$20, but I glanced upon an $8.99 bottle of Tortoise Creek that advertised its "unoaked" nature. Oak isn't my favorite tree or my favorite way in which to age wine; we had a winner.

On to winner number two: Nan's. The restaurant is divided into two spaces with separate entrances. The right side handles the brisk carryout business in a less-than-noteworthy setting. I stepped up to the left-hand door, only to have it opened for me. It had been raining, and my coat was dripping everywhere, so an offer was quickly extended to hang it up in the back.

That kind service, plus high ceilings, dark wood chairs, white tablecloths and dramatic red lanterns hanging over the sushi bar made for an atmosphere that hit just the right note: comfortably hip.

We unscrewed the bottle and got a little googly-eyed over the menu, which easily crams 300-plus options onto its five pages. We were in a snack and chat mood, and decided to order a handful of maki to split. It wasn't an easy choice; unexpected options like a honey miso drizzle and fried oysters filled the long list.

Though I was focused on Nan's, I couldn't help but think fondly of Miska's. The wine proved to be a great value, as dry as I hoped, with light citrus flavors that made for easy sipping. And it was a good match for the first roll I chose, the Tequila maki, with hamachi, cilantro, scallions, spicy mayo, avocado and jalapeno, served with a twist of lime. The wine didn't overwhelm the freshness—packed with cilantro, it could have been called the Farmers’ Market roll—or the heat.

We were glad to detect, even layered beneath rice and other flim-flam, that the fish was super fresh and in no short supply. I loved the Jae San maki, a simple mix of super white tuna, avocado and black tobiko, and we were bowled over by the sheer size of the Crazy Eel maki. The $10.95 mango-topped eel roll was cut into 10 hulking pieces that we could barely eat in one bite. We went back for a little more, by way of the Tequila maki, and closed the place down, full and staring at a super-reasonable $37 bill, which included two miso soups.

I felt pretty darn blissful at the end of it all, if not a bit sheepish for the nose-in-the-air trepidation I started the evening with. I got up as I was brought my coat; I reached for it, but the man insisted he help me put it on. Just the sort of thing a snobby girl would love.

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.