The intention was a quiet dinner in our neighborhood at a BYOB sushi place we like. The Husband grabbed a bottle of Albariño we’d picked up at the Cellar Rat. Had a nice slow stroll north toward Bucktown, a chance encounter with our friend, Julie, and a good look at the gardens and dogs of Chicago’s near northwest side.
I wasn’t prepared for the see-and-be-seen scene nor the pulsing house music. Valet parking for SUVs? Women so Botoxed, one couldn’t tell who was mother and who was daughter? A 45-minute wait for being a lowly walk-in? I’d brushed my teeth and put on a skirt. The Husband had put on shoes. Clearly, we’d underestimated the changes in our neighborhood.
Okay, so we’re snotty. Sorry, but it’s not fun to live in a neighborhood that years ago, friends were afraid to come to, and now is home to tear-downs, local businesses closing their doors, and frat boys barking into their cellphones that they “live in the ghetto.” Only the current administration gets the Husband more riled.
Anywho, we were eventually given a table in a quiet corner. The food was as good as always. The people who work there are sweet. Accessible sushi, true, but super tasty, very fresh, and made with care. And they have fresh wasabi. You can’t blame a restaurant for succeeding. So hie thee to Coast Sushi, but make a reservation or do take-out.