Chicago Restaurant Week, a time to enjoy good food, served well in nice places

"Remind me," I told my wife, as a pair of luscious pork chops were slid under my nose at Psistaria Greek Taverna on Touhy, "Why do we go other places?"

That moment, the only-restaurant-in-the-world flash, is a peak dining experience. You can eat food at home. But restaurants are a joy of life, each as awash with unique personality as a good stage play.

Since Chicago Restaurant Week began Friday (and runs until Feb. 8; actually two weeks), when dining establishments across the city entice patrons with special deals, I thought I would explore what makes a restaurant shine.

A great dining experience is a tripod, standing on three legs: food, service and atmosphere. I don't need to ponder at all to pinpoint the best meal I've eaten this past year — the grilled chicken in a garlic honey marinade with vegetables at 5 Rabanitos in Pilsen. It's such a massive plate of food, as I start in, I assume I'll take half home. But that would require me to stop eating at some point, and I always fail. The room is gorgeous, too, busy with art, reminding the National Museum of Mexican Art is a block away.

The media loves to focus on recently opened restaurants. They're news, I suppose. But in my dotage, I prefer old favorites, though am glad when the boys, true foodies, steer us to unfamiliar places that prove worthwhile.

We met the younger lad after work at a small Loop spot he'd found, Bereket Turkish Mediterranean Restaurant, 333 S. Franklin. An inviting room, with saffron walls. Delicious, juicy kabobs. But it was the warm service at the family-owned restaurant that really stood out.

Something happened at dessert on our first visit I believe has never happened to me in a restaurant before. My wife and I ordered a square of flan and a chocolate baklava, to share, and the waitress brought the flan and three baklavas.

Oh no, we protested, just the one. We just want to taste it. We tried to make her take the extra two back. That's OK, she said, they're on the house. We tried our baklava: fresh and fantastic — not too sweet. Guilt set in. I called the waitress over and insisted: we must pay for the three pieces — they were so good, we enjoyed them so much, it was a revelation.

"No, it's impossible," she said. "The bill is already made up." We yielded; I tipped 30% and left wondering if that were enough. We returned next before a show at the Lyric — Bereket is the perfect pre-opera spot.

Another problem with the mania for the new is that old standbys get overlooked. Every time I eat at Lou Mitchell's on Jackson, it's always crowded. But I still feel the century-old icon doesn't get enough attention. The food obviously — thick slices of Greek toast, gorgeous club sandwiches, all sorts of little free extras: donut holes, cups of ice cream. The skilled, honey-let-me-fill-that-up waitstaff. But the room — a pure, beating heart of Chicago vibe as befits a century old restaurant, second only to Harry Caray's.

The downside to Lou Mitchell's — and even the best restaurant has a downside — is enormous and must be emphasized: IT'S CLOSED MONDAYS AND TUESDAYS. It took me several disappointed visits, waiting in front of the locked doors to meet someone, for that to sink in. Their right, of course. Still. Tuesdays? C'mon guys, COVID's over.

Space dwindles, and I have to wave the flag for Pita Inn — not technically a Chicago restaurant but close enough, with locations in Skokie, Glenview and Wheeling. I've gone to them all recently — I can't be in the vicinity near mealtime and not. The food is good, plentiful and inexpensive. The business lunch special is $10.99, a plate heavy with chicken, lamb and beef.

"How do they do that?" my wife asked.

The decor always strikes me — someone put money and effort into those rooms.

But the capstone is the service — the key aspect most often botched, even at the fanciest places. Last week, on a brutally cold day, we were in Glenview and ordered the business special and hot mint tea. A humble a beverage, but I bet many a fine wine isn't delivered with such panache.

"Perfect weather for the hot tea," observed the young woman behind the counter, smiling radiantly and handing over a tray with two steaming glass mugs. "You can always come back for a refill."

I did. In our busy, screen-focused, impersonal world, you grow to cherish these little human interactions. Restaurants are in the front line of preserving what is special about life in Chicago. Don't neglect to go.