Maya and I were excited to return to one of our favorite college restaurants, The Medici, 1327 E. 57th St., near the University of Chicago campus. The restaurant features an assortment of salads, sandwiches, pastas, fried entrees, and a signature dish of thin-crust pizza. In an attempt to re-experience our college days, Maya and I opted to split a medium pizza served with mozzarella, parmesan, goat, and blue cheese. The pizza, as we remembered, was quite good, and we had no problem finishing the entire pie. Based on another fond memory, we also ordered a plate of fries on the side, but they were a disappointment. Unfortunately the fries were served cold, soggy, and greasy, even after we asked for a replacement batch.
We met some old friends for the meal, and since they had never left the neighborhood after college, in lieu of culinary nostalgia they opted for some of the more sophisticated items from the brunch menu--eggs Benedict and a seared tuna steak sandwich. Both reported that these dishes were quite good.
What remained consistent, and what met our demands for nostalgia, was the atmosphere. The first floor, filled with dark wood and oil paintings but devoid of windows, feels like a cross between a gallery and a den. The booths remained covered in engraved graffiti, producing a distinctively college vibe dating back to the 1960s, when the restaurant first opened. We all recalled hours spent on the first floor, but now, almost 8 years later, it seemed appropriate that we were seated this time in the restaurant’s loft, the unofficial spot for brunch visits with parents, grad students, and alumni. In the loft booths are replaced by tables and natural light streams in from the windows overlooking the rooftops of the apartments next door.
The Medici’s drink selection is worthy of mention. Maya ordered a half-frozen lemonade that was elegantly served in a tall, thin glass, and I stuffed myself with a rich, dark chocolate shake that still ranks among the best I’ve had. Also, on weekends, customers can squeeze their own fresh orange juice at the counter downstairs, but on this day we were too lazy for this taxing routine.
All in all "The Med," as locals affectionately call it, held up to our youthful recollections (minus the angst and mid-term stress).