Lula, You're Wonderful, But Cafe You Are Not

Brian and I ventured to Lula Cafe yesterday -- finally! -- for Tuesday Night and were reminded that you can go to a restaurant and have every course and every dish taste great; sit in a spot-on, warm atmosphere with stellar service; and still be surprised with unique twists on familiar and unexpected ingredients alike. It lived up to the hype -- and there has been a lot of it (deservedly it turns out). But that's not what I want to write about.

Lula calls itself a cafe.

To Lula and all the other restaurants that tack on "cafe" to their name, I say: wtf.

A cafe is a little restaurant that serves coffee and maybe sandwiches and other light things. Merriam-Webster agrees! There are nice little tables to sit at and people watch, and you can generally hang out all day if you want. Only have a few bucks? Fear not, you can still get a drink and snack. I think of Paris, romance, traveling, puppies with their owners and all other cafe-type things that make them a great urban escape.

But there's a crop of restaurants posing as cafes, and they're ticking me off. Magnolia Cafe, Lula Cafe, Cafe 36 -- yeah, I'm talkin' to you. You serve pork dishes! You braise meats! And I have to drop a good $60 on a meal for two -- because it's dinner  you serve, not a sandwich and soup with a side of wrought-iron furniture. If I had a dog, there would be no place to tie it up, which is standard cafe service protocol. Again, wtf.

Lula, you wonderful place, you: sadly you're guilty of this misnomer. Your short-rib stuffed rabbit was phenomenal but requires a full kitchen for preparation. Your sketchy locale (OK, Logan Square is *slowly* gentrifying, but it ain't there yet) does not allow for the relaxing people-watching I expect to at any cafe, and you open for dinner. Will you allow me to hang out all day at one of your fancy tables buying only a coffee and sandwich? I think not.

I wish these restaurants would just call themselves what they are and drop the "cafe." Or at least follow Cafe Too's example, which is closer. Stop messing with my expectations, even if you hit home runs on all other counts.

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Why We Can't Wait to Go Back to Lula:
-- the fact our waiter was Mexican and our water boy was white (sorry, but how often do you see that?)
-- a great beet salad with myer (sp?) lemons and homemade ricotta
-- crispy sweetbreads with figs
-- a homemade pasta and pork dish (with more figs!) that oozes comfort
-- a great meritage for $9 a glass
-- kick-ass short-rib-stuffed quail with winter vegetables and pumpkin puree
-- and the carrot cake. Sure, carrot cake is carrot cake. But do other versions have Lula's frosting recipe? Nope. It's perfectly moist and carroty goodness.