The Cheap Eater

Eschewing traditions for something better

October 06, 2011|By Kevin Pang, Tribune reporter

Molecular gastronomy begat comfort food, comfort food begat pork belly, which begat farm-to-table, then small plates, communal seating, the adjective "artisanal," ampersands in restaurant names, pork belly again and foraging.

Let us declare with indisputable certainty that there is a new trend emerging from the dining narrative: Chefs, formerly of high-end restaurants with fine china, are now cooking simple, unadorned dishes.

In the last year, this column has chronicled some of the chefs who've dialed down their fine-dining talents for simplicity at Bridgeport's Pleasant House Bakery (by way of Bijan's Bistro), Lakeview's Real Kitchen (Charlie Trotter's, North Pond, El Bulli) and Evanston's BopNGrill (Sunda).

Panozzo's Italian Market in the South Loop predates them all. At the helm is John Asbaty, who cooked alongside Grant Achatz at Trio, then followed him to Alinea as chef de partie of the fish and meat stations. But Asbaty's interest in avant-garde cooking waned, so 51/2 years ago he turned in his micro-tweezers for good.

On the other side of town was Mike Panozzo, whose 9-to-5 job involved publishing four bowling magazines and two on billiards. Panozzo grew up in Pullman on the South Side at a time when, in his words, the area was "hard-core Italian." He remembered making hot sausages with his uncles, hand-cranking the extruder to stuff pork into casing. The romantic notion of running a neighborhood Italian deli stayed with him into adulthood.

Six years ago, Panozzo and his wife, Ellen, moved to the burgeoning South Loop. High-rises were soaring over Michigan and Wabash avenues at a remarkable pace, but the area still lacked a family-run business the neighborhood could rally around.

Panozzo, still in publishing, aspired to add Italian deli owner to his resume. After he convinced his wife this was a good idea ("That's a whole other story, and not for the food section," Ellen said), the Panozzos pooled their savings with business partner Tony Gierczyk. They found their chef through Diandra Asbaty, a professional bowler who penned a column in Panozzo's magazine. Her husband, it turns out, was a chef with an esteemed pedigree. The timing seemed right.

Panozzo's Italian Market stands apart from the pruh-joot and gabagool-inflected delis of Chicago, ones that realize success means not changing their decades-old formula. Fontano's, Bari and Conte di Savoia slice meats and cheeses and make terrific sandwiches — no need to veer off-script. Panozzo's, though, serves food inspired from an Italian ideal rather than adhere to rigid traditions.

So what does a half-Polish, half-Syrian guy know about Italian cooking anyway? Asbaty's defense: "I grew up in New Jersey." But he also attended cooking school in Chicago (what is now Le Cordon Bleu), which gave him a culinary perspective.

For one, he never understood Chicago-style Italian beef. Why take a lean cut such as top round, roast it, slice it thin and then cook it some more? Why rely solely on pan juices for moisture? Panozzo's version uses Dietzler Farm beef shoulder (chuck) — a fattier cut with a richness that withstands hours of braising. The result is more like pot roast than Al's No. 1.

Slagel Farm pork shoulders are rolled into Gunthorp Farm pork bellies to make porchetta, the classic herbed pork roast. Asbaty takes it further: He cubes the porchetta, pan-fries it crispy in more pork fat and serves it in a sandwich with pickled fennel slaw — it's as if Italians did carnitas. Asbaty calls it porchino, which he admits is a made-up word.

Asbaty's philosophy, then, is similar to Rick Bayless' at Topolobampo: a nonnative using his adopted country's cuisine as jumping-off point.

"I tried to envision an Italian cook in the countryside who is transported to Chicago, and ask, 'How would they cook given their location change?'" Asbaty told me one afternoon. "Would they import stuff from their hometown, or look for the best farmers and producers around them? For me, embracing how an Italian thinks is sometimes more Italian than using ingredients from Italy."

Consider gooseberries, which are more Scandinavian than Italian, but Asbaty sought a tart-sweet complement to swordfish. He chops the fish into a salad with gooseberries, fennel and toasted almonds.

It isn't to say the menu is void of familiar classics. Pork meatballs — the texture yields like mom's meatloaf — are Sicilian tinged, embedded with capers, currants and chilies from neighboring Calabria. Cubes of lasagna Bolognese are an oozy, indulgent bechamel bomb. And the same porchetta used for Italian "carnitas" is sliced thin and sandwiched between pan-fried flatbread called crescentina. These are extraordinary, but only when hot from the oven — when the porchetta rinds are shiny and you get that bread crunch reminiscent of toasted English muffins.

Therein lies the difference: Asbaty's recipes service the final product, even if it's at the expense of Old World taste memories. God bless the Italian grocers who are set in their ways, but authenticity is overrated. Panozzo's stands out by daring to be progressive.

Panozzo's Italian Market

1303 S. Michigan Ave., 312-356-9966;
Open: 10 a.m. to 8 p.m. Tuesday through Friday, 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Saturday, 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Sunday; closed Monday

Twitter @kevinthepang