I Found The Chicago Tribune’s Restaurant Review of “The Bear,” The Windy City’s Hottest New Eatery

Foodies around the globe are searching for the Chicago Tribune’s review of the River North district’s latest culinary hotspot, The Bear. Unfortunately, the eagerly anticipated article has yet to appear in print, so our hopes have been 86ed. Or have they?

Thanks to a tip from a faithful Chicago reader, I learned that the Tribune’s review of The Bear was live for a few hours during the recent launch of Chicago Tribune Max, the exclusive home of Windy City-centric content like Chicago Fire, Chicago Med, Chicago P.D., the iconic 1993 film Rookie of the Year, and every regular season Cubs game from 1987-1989.

Unfortunately, Chicago Tribune Max had to temporarily shut down as it prepares to relaunch as Chicago Tribune (On The) Go, a mobile-friendly streamer that will house all the aforementioned content as well as the 2002 film Chicago, the third season of Family Matters, and Dick Wolf’s upcoming animated children’s series Chicago Daycare.

Chicago Tribune (On The) Go CEO Jeffrey Katzenberg agreed to let us run the Tribune’s review of The Bear as long as we promised to include the corresponding ads for a variety of upcoming Chicago concerts. Naturally, we obliged.

You can read the full review below. Bon appétit!

Chicago’s New Fine Dining Eatery The Bear Is A Brilliant Nightmare of Savory Anarchy 

By Louisa “Burger” Rockett

Chicago’s buzziest new restaurant is The Bear, a succulent fever dream of culinary debauchery from the minds of James Beard Award-winning Carmen Berzatto and ascendant gastronomical wunderkind Sydney Adamu. Located in the ashes of cult favorite The Original Beef of Chicagoland — don’t fret, locals, a fully operational takeout window still exists — this resplendent fine-dining establishment is an acerbic blend of classic and modern gourmet, delivering both innovative new dishes and familiar staples with frenetic excellence and concentrated alacrity.

But a palpable dissonance between cuisine and atmosphere threatens to disrupt the eatery’s delicate ecosystem. Is The Bear a Chicago game-changer? Yes. A culinary revelation? Indubitably. But is The Bear also an exceedingly strange repository of anxiety bursting with a complex array of chaotic eccentrics? Hell yes, chef.

The Bear’s menu is a symphonic feast that will embolden your senses. As each dish of my nine-course meal arrived, there was no denying the chef’s excellent creations — my Duck Je Ne Sais Quoi was an ethereal percussion of flavors both decadent and simple that grazed the bosom of perfection — but the restaurant’s vibe was very “naked in front of a classroom being forced to recite a book report you forgot to write.”

I overheard Richard “Richie” Jerimovich, who runs the front of the house with a heretofore unseen mix of grace, disarming charm, and unpredictable “Fight for Your Right to Party” fervor, refer to the establishment as a vibrant collaboration, which is true if by “vibrant collaboration” he means vociferous shouting over the restaurant’s “Trust me, I’m a cool dad” playlist (which seemed to consist solely of Eddie Vedder, Counting Crows deep cuts, and some R.E.M song they played at least three times an hour). The space is cozy, so the endless cacophony of noise — chefs yelling “hands!” and “refire!” while quarreling about bowls, mushrooms, and the like — left me disappointed and craving noise-canceling headphones.

The food was incredible yet the melancholy was omnipresent. What kind of Faustian bargain was made to achieve such excellence? And why did everyone I encounter seem to be one smudged fork away from throwing their potato gnocchi through the front window?

Later, upon exiting the restaurant, I stumbled across Jerimovich. He was alone in his car, staring into the unknown listening to Taylor Swift’s “Long Live.” Loneliness, they say, is always a table for one. It wouldn’t be my only out-of-the-restaurant interaction with the colorful staff of The Bear.

As I was anticipating the arrival of my fifth course — the wait time was a little long; someone should tell the staff that every second counts in the service industry — I found myself conversing with two mustachioed men with kind, delightfully chaotic energy. Multiple times throughout the night I heard them whispering about “haunting” or “being haunted”? I hadn’t the foggiest idea what they were talking about, but I wanted to bottle their whole kooky vibe. The atmosphere quickly shifted from fine dining to “Sunday morning flea market” as the duo attempted to sell me a 1985 Topps Mark McGwire rookie card on the down-low.

I declined their overtures but took their numbers. The confusing mischief was quaint, and the allure of a Bash Brother was strong.

Finally, after four and a half hours, my meal was complete. I staggered out of the restaurant still dizzy from my food coma when I came face to face with Chef Berzatto. I froze but didn’t want to miss my opportunity to gain insight into the mind of a culinary genius.

“Looks like it might rain tonight,” I said, hoping inspiration would strike and I’d think of something wittier to say. “Claire,” Chef Berzatto softly replied, seemingly lost in thought. “Who?” I asked. But that was the end of our interaction. Chef popped about 15 pieces of Nicorette gum into his mouth and returned to his one true love: The Bear. As the door closed behind him, I kid you not, a street performer began to play an acoustic version of “Strange Currencies.”

Oh, and while this isn’t pertinent to the review, I also saw actor Jamie Lee Curtis standing outside the restaurant!

When it comes to my final review, well, I’ll let it rip. Despite its innumerable flaws — many of which inexplicably add to the unpredictable ambiance of this frenzied eatery — The Bear is an environment that encourages razzle-dazzle and the dream weave. The restaurant is many things — brilliant, endearingly sloppy, and inconsistent, to name a few —but it’s certainly not boring. It’s both simple and complex, a delicious culinary juxtaposition cooked to near perfection.

Innovation is a non-negotiable. In a world of tired, stale wannabes, The Bear succeeds thanks to the immeasurable talents of Berzatto and Adamu, two chefs who openly embrace the chaos of ingenuity. You’ll come for the food, but you’ll stay for the delirious atmosphere.

But the restaurant did run out of C Folds while I was there. Four stars.