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This idea seems quite intriguing to me. Yet in spite of the fact that their website lists three different city locations for Together, I can not find any commentary or input about this or other events they might have held on the internet. Does anyone on this forum have any insider information about this group beyond what is on their website, which essentially just lists people involved? Marco Bahena is the Chicago chef which is probably a good sign.

I have an interest in some South Loop mansions; others, not so much. It would help to know which mansion the event will be held at.

nr706 wrote:I have an interest in some South Loop mansions; others, not so much. It would help to know which mansion the event will be held at.

One of the links says it at the Keith House Mansion, 1900 S. Prairie

ETA: It also says "Our events take place in different locations and we will disclose the whereabouts by email to registered dinner guests before the event."

Not liking that one bit.

If the link is accurate, that would make a big difference to me. But I'm not giving them my credit card number if it might end up being held somewhere else.

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Well, I signed up, based on the location, but I'm a little concerned. Minor details like the date of the event aren't included on the page describing the event, or on the Buy Tickets page - that seems like a red flag, suggesting there may be some sloppiness in the event's details. I hope I'm wrong - either way I'll post and let you know.

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I am so curious to hear about this event, nr706, can you give us thoughts on your experience?

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Frankly, I’d hoped to avoid commenting on the dinner, since it was the group’s first attempt at doing something like this. Just as it’s unfair to write up a restaurant on the first day it’s opened, it’s also probably not fair to review an event based on a group’s first outing. There’s clearly a learning curve the Together people will need to deal with.

Plus, we’d just been to fabulous, roughly similar underground dinner from Feast & Imbibe which, while not as flashy in terms of locale or décor, offered a truly memorable experience overall. But now that I’ve had a week to cogitate on it, I’ll offer a few impressions.

First, the good. The space was impressive, although I have to admit to being highly biased. (The Mansion was built by my Great Grandfather [in 1867, IIRC], and my Grandfather grew up there. I’ve been there a number of times in the past for other events.)

Decorations and table settings were impressive, combining vegetables and fruits with an eclectic assortment of antique (or at least antique-appearing) platters and glassware. The décor theme was dark and light, representing the fading light of late summer and the darkness of the coming winter. As such, one room was white and brightly lit, the other dark and moody. (Of the two rooms used for events at the Mansion, one is naturally bright and the other naturally dark.)



The evening started with cocktails and passed appetizers. The two cocktails – one using Letherbee Malört, the other sherry-based, were okay, but we both thought they lacked a bit of balance, and skewed toward excessive bitterness (expected with the Malört, not so much with the sherry). Curiously, the sherry-based cocktail was garnished with a couple of small red berries on what looked like a toothpick. Only after we got into a conversation with one of the organizers did we find out it wasn’t a toothpick at all, it was a quill from an exotic African porcupine. Why they would use such an unusual garnish and not tell anyone (unless it happened to come up in conversation) is beyond me.

The passed appetizers included a mushroom sautée (they may have called it a mushroom compote), which was a bit on the salty side, and a small piece of foie gras coated with a pumpkin jam. We thought the jam was unnecessary, as it somewhat obscured the rich, luxurious flavor of the foie gras.

But what really spoiled the opening cocktail/appetizer session was the presence of ubiquitous, obtrusive photographers almost everywhere. It was hard to take more than a couple of steps without feeling like we were intruding in their shots of the event.

As you can see above, each (tightly-packed) place setting featured a small, hollowed out pumpkin, on a rough-hewn plank – a nice touch. Inside each of the pumpkins was a bit of crème fraiche with a small bit of prosciutto, maple syrup, and what was described as charred onion. For service, a kabocha squash bisque was poured into the pumpkin. Unfortunately, the charred onion probably should have been better described as burnt onion – it leant a distinct, unpleasant burned flavor to what would have otherwise been an adequate squash soup.

However, before the soup was served, we were treated to a rambling, uninsightful, unnecessary poetry reading about the glories of the harvest season. I understand that this was supposed to a part of incorporating many aspects of creativity into the event, but I felt embarrassed for the woman doing the reading.

Paired with the soup was a cocktail of amaro abano, falernum, cinnamon, celery bitters, and a sparkling brut. Again, there was no balance, with the bitter flavors overwhelming everything else. Perhaps the thought was to contrast the bitter cocktail with what should have been a somewhat sweet-ish soup. At any rate, it didn’t work. Looking down the table, many glasses of this went unfinished; some even hardly touched, beyond a sip.

The second course was a slow-roasted beet salad with arugula and chevre. It came off as a rather pedestrian dish, which might have been right at home at Olive Garden. Nothing wrong with it, but nothing notably right with it, either.

Served with the salad was probably the best cocktail of the evening - a mix of apple cider, rye whiskey, and a bit of bitters. It was poured from large pitchers set on the table. Unfortunately, it was meant to be paired with the third course; however, it seemed welcomed by many of those who still had mostly full glasses of the brut cocktail.

The third course (saddle of rabbit, with lentils, braised carrots, and microscopic amounts of a sunchoke emulsion) sounded interesting; we thought it might be a bit like the “study of quail” course we’d had at Feast & Imbibe. The carrot and lentils worked well together, but the rabbit – both the skin and the meat – seemed very salty. While we don’t know exactly what the preparation was, we speculated that the rabbit may have been over-brined, then overcooked, which could have contributed its slightly dry, strange, cotton-y texture.

(By contrast, the Feast & Imbibe “study of quail” had four nuggets of perfectly cooked, probably un-brined quail, along with a soft-cooked quail egg in a nest of desiccated celeriac, and served with greens, corn, and sunflower seeds — foods that quail naturally eat. This dish told a story – it wasn’t just disparate items placed on a plate without a unifying theme.)


Left: Together's Saddle of Rabbit          Right Feast & Imbibe's Study of Quail

Throughout the meal, there was background music. Clearly, the space is not set up to disperse music evenly between both rooms, and we were nearest the speakers. The other end of the room probably couldn’t hear the odd mix of music, incorporating Irish folk tunes and Neil Young songs, among others.

Desserts were passed, along with after-dinner drinks, allowing everyone to get up and mix. The Green Apple Lollipops were fine – little bites with caramel on toothpicks. The charred sweet potato dessert tasted fine, but was a bit tough to eat; the sweet potato was well-cooked, and as a result, a bit too mushy to be served as a finger food, as it was.

Although we had little interaction with them, the couple across from us was raving about the food. That surprised us. Only after the chef came out at the end of the meal did we find out the couple was the chef’s parents. Our guess (without any substantiation) was that a good number of the other guests were friends and family of the large staff.

Before the dinner started, I was asked to comment briefly on the history of the house, my great grandfather, and his family. But by the end of the dinner, it seemed pretty obvious that few, if any, of the other attendees were interested in the history, so I didn't say anything.

Stephanie did ask me, toward the end of the event, what we thought of it. “Well, it’s obvious you put a lot of effort into it.” Which was true. That was the best I could come up with. I didn’t want to get into a long discussion of flaws. But I hope Stephanie sees these comments as a re-affirmation that she and her partners have an interesting concept they’re trying to develop … it just needs a lot more work. I hope they’ll succeed with less pretension and more substance for any future events they’re planning.

Thanks so much for the report. Sounds like there is wonderful potential here.