Province

It all started when my sister wanted me to stay and sit in on her last class in law school. (I doodled to look busy!) Sensing that- for once- she wanted me to stay and I waned to go, naturally, I exploited the opportunity to score some free dinner. It kinda worked! The twenty dollar budget she gave me was surprisingly generous, although simply paying for the dinner would have been the true mark of a gentle(wo)man.

We went to Province. It is a concept (being "green" and all up in your face about it) restaurant, with the decor falling somewhere between A Bug's Life and minimalist, pseudo-zen simplicity. Located in the West Loop, the clientele was mostly older (but not elderly) folks, and the over-tanned sluts- who dress like life is one big bachelorette party- that could be their progeny.

Our waitress was very nice, and I liked her. However, she seemed to abide by the magicians' code of "Always leave them wanting more," because we saw her maybe three times over the course of our two hours there.

Bitching aside, the food was very good. I'll leave it up to Erica "Stabby" S. to spiel about her issues with the service and why she hates vegetables. The menu at Provice is arranged by size: small bites, like oysters, come first; then appetizers, small plates, big plates, and bigger (normal entree size) plates. We each got an appetizer and a big/er plate.

Pictured above is the appetizer Erica got- It is salt, seasoned with flatbread, arugula, something simply called "cheese," and a slow-poached egg. I got Summer Corn Chowder with Crab and some other stuff. It had a slightly spicy zing to it that I enjoyed, but the obvious enthusiasm the chef has for corn overpowered the crab. If it wasn't for the texture across my tongue, I would never had guessed the crab was there at all.

The entrees were very good. Again, I leave it to Erica to explain her over-seared ahi and vegeable drama. I got the Ten Hour BBQ'd Lamb. The menu said it comes with roasted eggplant, chorizo, and cornbread. The size of the dish was more than adequate (you never know what you're gonna get with these concept places) and had two hunks of tender, fat-like-butta lamb, each the size of those superfluous baby shoes people buy for their infants even though they're too young to walk. The meat was luxurious and moist, like Cinemax soft-core in my mouth, and I didn't have to use my knife even once during the meal. My only gripe? The plate looked like a bowl of turdy dog food. The vegetable, chorizo and cornbread (more of a meal than bread) were smushed into one lumpy brown mess resembling something more like coffee grounds and breakfast vomit than the tasty accompaniment it actually was. But hey, if I was so concerned with appearances, I'd stop dressing like I just had a baby and hop on a treadmill. Entree was a win.

For our comped dessert, Erica got a lonely scoop of cinnamon ice cream and I (being way more fun than her) got the peanut butter and chocloate flan "sandwich." The flan was from the firm school of pudding-making, but I guess it was necessary in order to support the crispy, cookies 'n cream square between the two flavors, as well as the scoop of chocolate sorbet on top. Another win.

Overall, the food was awesome but the service sucked. Powerful sucked. I wish we could have tipped the busser/expo guy instead. 6.7 smugly bragging seasonal locavores in backless dresses out of 9.