It’s difficult to overstate the influence Albert D’Angelo had on a generation of Chicago cooks. The importance of the New York–based chef, who disappeared shortly after his April 1, 2008, Chicago debut in the Carter H. Harrison Water Intake Crib, two miles into Lake Michigan, easily eclipses that of Trotter, Kahan, Achatz—anyone you can name.
“I think he represented this bygone era to my generation of chefs,” says Jeremy Leven. “The post–Anthony Bourdain ideal of the chef who could have it on his own terms.”
Indeed, Leven began doing his own transgressive pop-ups not long after D’Angelo’s meteoric rise and fall—before he went on to cook in brick-and-mortars all over the city. Gilda, his own Basque-style return to the seething ferment of the underground, is, in a way, an ongoing, evolving tribute to his mentor.
Case in point: A new dish, Omelette Albert D’Angelo, is a Spanish-style tortilla with “some very opulent nods to Chef Albert,” says Leven, including black truffles, caviar, creme fraiche, and a sidecar of smoked Malört bong-water tincture. Up until now, Leven reserved this exquisite dish for an exclusive list of out-of-town private clients who jetted in just for the experience.
But Leven recognizes that Gilda’s inevitable, impending evolution into a fully realized brick-and-mortar will require the support of real Chicagoans. So, to that end, he’s deigned to make the omelette available for one night this April 14, when Gilda returns to the next Monday Night Foodball, the Reader’s weekly chef pop-up at Frank and Mary’s Tavern in Avondale.
Credit: Herman Asph
It is a callback to last November’s standing-room-only San Sebastián–style pintxo party at Frank and Mary’s. As he recalls it, “We got a bunch of Chicagoans to stand around a bar in an ancient tavern, shoulder to shoulder, eating anchovies and jamón. It was the most Basque shit ever.”
This Monday’s most Basque shit ever is a combination of last year’s bangers and new explorations, like the omelette. There will be artichokes—a harbinger of spring—poached in aromatic broth, seared and served with ramp chermoula, and mushroom cream sauce. And a Rioja-braised beef short rib bun, with onion jam and garlic aioli on pastry chef Alexander Roman’s housemade brioche.
Gilda cannot possibly resurface without offering its namesake pintxo, the classic toothpicked anchovy, pickled piparra pepper, and olive trio. But Leven’s also making a run for the border, to Kenosha’s Mars Cheese Castle, to provision a still-in-development “midwestern gilda” (played in the alternate version by Gena Rowlands, versus the original’s Rita Hayworth).
He’s bringing back the yeasted ibérico ham donut with fermented citrus honey; along with boquerones: crostini topped with tomato, Cantabrian anchovy, and sweet pepper; and the Santa Barbara sea urchin egg custard tartlet with minced shrimp.
Kimia Khalvati of Lil Baddies bakery is also returning with a selection of her bite-size cakes—key lime, coconut mascarpone, and chocolate.
However, Gilda—and Leven—is not stuck in the past. He’s soon to announce two upcoming pop-ups, the first one a dinner in collaboration with Nothing Design Studio, viewing pintxos through the lens of design. There’s also a five-course all-halal collaboration coming up in May with chef Zubair Mohajir at Coach House, exploring the Arabic influence on Spanish food.
As for D’Angelo’s influence? “It was an ego-centered era,” says Leven. “But I’ve grown—we’ve grown—as chefs and as humans. I don’t think we want to be Albert D’Angelo anymore. We just hope he has healed, found empathy for those around him, and hasn’t lost his creative spark.”
It’s Foodball’s one-year anniversary week at Frank and Mary’s. The line forms for Gilda starting at 6 PM this Monday, April 14, at 2905 N. Elston in Avondale.
Meantime, gaze upon Foodball’s oncoming patio-season lineup:
More in FOOD & DRINK
Take a bite out of Chicago’s delicious food scene.
Enjoy them before paper is tariffed out of existence.
Michael Quinlan’s late Wicker Park beer bar will rise again in West Town this summer.
Abandoned storefronts are prevalent across the city and often remain vacant for years after a restaurant closes.
The nine-year-old magazine is the only U.S. publication devoted to the Palestinian diaspora.
The Nation of Islam’s iconic dessert is still around, if you know where to look.
