My first thought upon entering Marshall Field's famed Walnut Room was that they have more tables than they will ever be able to use. The restaurant's 17000 square feet of space seemed superfluous, if not even a little presumptuous. We didn't even mention our reservation as we were lead to a table at the base of a gigantic ballerina, with a skirt made of fine china and a curtain of ballet shoes encasing her. This towering figurine is replaced by an even more colossal Christmas tree during the winter months, a time when not only are all of the tables booked, but there is an hour-long waiting list at all hours of the day!
It felt a bit unorthodox to be making my first visit to this famed establishment on a clammy Wednesday evening in May, when the Circassian wood archways and Austrian chandeliers shone only for a scarce and scattered crowd of theatre patrons. Alas, we too had tickets to a show at the Goodman and thought we would give this 7th floor specialty, hidden within the beloved State Street Marshall Field's, an opportunity to wow us.
Theatre-goers get special privileges here--we were promised a 45 minute dining experience, which included free dessert--you just have to flash your ticket stub. But I am getting ahead of myself here, dessert comes later! I settled in with the Crab Bisque to start, which came to the table in about 5 minutes and was divine. The hint of sherry made it an incredibly silky affair, while the actual pieces of crabmeat gave it more substance than the flimsy seafood bisques I have had in the past. Definitely a great way to start the meal.
The entree was a more difficult choice. The Walnut Room is famous for their Chicken Pot Pie, the dish that actually got the restaurant started in the 1890s, when a Marshall Field's employee cooked pot pies for her lunch and decided to start selling them to hungry shoppers. I was also tempted by the Butternut Squash Ravioli, which was served in a light sage cream sauce with dried cranberries, baby spinach, leeks, and roasted peppers, and topped with parmesan cheese and walnut pesto. (I couldn't believe this was the only mention of walnuts I saw on the menu!) I decided, however, to continue with the seafood theme and order the Seared Scallop Salad, which included leeks, pineapple, red peppers, Savoy cabbage, and baby greens, all topped with shoestring potatoes and a pineapple vinaigrette.
Before I go on, you should know something about me--I could compete in speed-eating contests if I thought it wouldn't ruin my metabolism. In fact, I could probably make a living at said contests. I know that as a "foodie," it is my job to savor, to thoroughly enjoy and hang on every bite, picking out undertones, moving pieces around in my mouth, letting my taste buds soak in the sauces for a moment...that just isn't me. I do that occasionally, especially if there is a good creme brulee involved, but if a dish stands apart from all others, the way I hope most dishes to be, I have difficulty stopping myself. I know, I know, I'm getting help.
That said, this scallop endeavor was...mediocre. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't gagging, but let's just say it was the kind of entree where I didn't mind putting my fork down for awhile to tell my fellow diners a story. The shoestring taters and scallops had this burnt flavor, which couldn't have been on purpose. The leeks were raw and placed on the sides of the plate, as was the pineapple. Unlike the pineapple, however, no one wants to make an extra effort to eat leeks, there is no motivation there, especially when it is raw. At least the pineapple was grilled, I gobbled that up right away.
I didn't feel bad leaving room for dessert, and I had glimpsed a creme brulee at a table nearby. But this classy eatery's location inside Marshall Field's gives their dessert chefs access to Frango chocolates, and their most popular item is the Frango Mint Chocolate Chip Pie. I wanted to, I was tempted, I really was, but I have a relationship with creme brulee. We love eachother. It relies on me to order it wherever possible, and I rely on it to make that beautiful sound when I hit it with my spoon. Besides, chocolate makes me breakout.
So I ordered my one and only, and as is almost always the case, I was satisfied. The wonderful crack was music to my ears, the crust was not too thick or too thin, and the custard itself was sublime. My only complaint would be that the top was broiled a bit unevenly, with some spots a bit more burnt than others. This place needs to calm down, take a deep breath, and stop burning everything!
My fellow patrons both ordered the famous Chicken Pot Pie, which came with a nice spinach and mandarin salad with sesame dressing. Be warned, however, this is not the down-home country pot pie you get at Boston Market (don't lie, you know you love it)--the "pie" is more like a chicken soup with two oversized triangles of puff-pastry on top. According to them, however, it was still delicious. They also ordered peach cobbler and key lime pie, of which no complaints were made. The crust on the key lime pie actually made me want to snatch the fork out of my grandma's hand and nab me some of that thick, crumbly, golden goodness, but my loyalties were with the creme brulee.
The experience was nice and elegant overall. The waitstaff seemed experienced and polite, not the snooty 20-somethings you sometimes get stuck with at American Contemporary dining locales. It is a calming oasis in the middle of a hectic shopping environment, although I am sure that tranquility wears off in the holiday season. Despite my complaints, I definitely look forward to coming back for that ravioli...and maybe also some Frango pie, but I can't make any promises.
The Walnut Room
111 N. State St., 7th Floor
Chicago, IL
312-781-3125
Open 7 days a week, 11am-4pm
Holiday hours (post-Thanksgiving to early January)
Mon-Wed. 8am-one hour before store closing
Sunday 9am-6pm
Average Entree $8-15
Accessible by CTA Red, Green, Purple, Brown, & Orange line trains at Washington stop
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