Raise A Glass

Byob Restaurants Pour On The Conviviality

May 02, 1999|By Phil Vettel, Tribune Restaurant Critic.

Some of my fondest memories from my younger, more Bohemian days, are from BYOB restaurants. My wife and I were particularly enamored of a Thai restaurant, since shuttered, where we would lug in six-packs of beer or a bottle of wine and enjoy a meal that would have been far less affordable otherwise.

BYOB (that's Bring Your Own Bottle if you're new to this concept) restaurants are a small but vibrant force in Chicago's dining community -- a semi-exclusive club, though not all of the members are voluntary participants.

The best BYOBs make good cuisine more accessible to diners, and for that reason alone they are an important part of Chicago's restaurant scene.

Jody Andre did not intend to create a BYOB restaurant when she opened Tomboy in 1997. "But when we first opened," she says, "the antiquated ventilation system held up our liquor license, so we opened BYO. Within two days, it was obvious this was one of our niches."

And so a liquor license, all but secured but for a faulty fan or two, went from On Hold to Never Mind.

"I recently conducted a poll of customers, asking what they thought of Tomboy getting a liquor license," Andre says, "and 97 percent were enthusiastically in favor of keeping it BYO."

The advantage to Tomboy's customers, of course, is that they don't have to buy wine at restaurant prices, which typically are double, and sometimes triple, retail price. But many of Tomboy's customers aren't motivated by price.

"A lot of people have nice wine cellars at home," Andre says. "They can come in here with their friends, show off their wines, yet don't have to cook."

In Wicker Park, Katherine August has operated Twilight as a BYOB for nearly five years. She has considered getting a liquor license on several occasions. But in Chicago, obtaining a license is costly and time-consuming. The license itself costs $1,000 and must be renewed every six months. And there is plenty of paperwork involved, including zoning checks and background checks of all owners. Notification of the license application also is sent to every legal voter who resides within 250 feet of the restaurant; voters have the right to object to the issuance of a liquor license.

Ultimately, August opted not to bother with the process.

"I don't need it, I don't want to spend the money and I don't need the hassle," she says. "And I like that someone who doesn't have $100 to spend on a meal can come here, spend half that and bring a bottle of $10 to $20 wine. And a number of connoiseurs can bring nice bottles, match it to interesting food and enjoy the funkiness associated with that.

"And of course, they share the wine with me," August adds.

Isabel's, a Puerto Rican restaurant run by the DeJesus family, has been trying to get a liquor license for almost a year; a zoning technicality has been the stumbling block. Isabel DeJesus is hopeful that the restaurant will be pouring drinks by summer, but nothing is certain.

"We've lost a ton of money in the last year," says George DeJesus, Isabel's son. Isabel's decor includes a handsome bar, but for now, it dispenses only soft drinks.

When Wendy Gilbert opened Savoy Truffle four years ago, she knew she wouldn't be getting a liquor license.

"You have to have two restrooms, at least one (that is) wheelchair accessible," she says. "This space won't accommodate that. But I found a place that suited me. And when you're opening a restaurant without liquor, the difference is like night and day as far as inspections go. I like to keep my life simple.

"In a way, being BYO is helpful," Gilbert adds. "I think it creates a nice atmosphere. People walk in like they're going to a party...I know I've got customers who come to my restaurant specifically because I don't have liquor.

And my customers are very generous," she says. "Some of them come in with wines they brought from Europe, and my glass is always full. I get to try a lot of wines I would never, ever try."

Chinoiserie is a French-accented Chinese restaurant in Wilmette. With but seven tables and 650 square feet -- kitchen included -- and no basement, owner Janice Lee says, "We have room to hang a liquor license on the wall, but very little room for wine."

So the restaurant, owned by Lee and her husband, chef David Lee, is BYOB.

"It's definitely worked for us," Janice Lee says. "There are a lot fewer headaches involved. We don't need a bartender, and the waitstaff doesn't have to find time to mix drinks or pour wine."

In west suburban Hinsdale, Jana and Edgar Amsler operate Salbute, a fine Mexican restaurant, without a liquor license. But the Amslers sure would like one.

"If we could get a liquor license, we could take the restaurant to a different level and better serve our customers," Jana Amsler says. But Hinsdale is one of the few remaining "dry" communities in the area. Not only does Salbute lack a liquor license, but the nearest package-liquor store -- the happy beneficiaries of nearby BYOBs -- also is at least a mile away.