Andalucia is an intimate neighborhood spot that specializes in tapas from southern Spain.
Photo: Janine MacLachlan
Andalucia is an intimate neighborhood spot that specializes in tapas from southern Spain.
Photo: Janine MacLachlan
With small plates all the rage in restaurants these days, we owe a debt of gratitude to the Spanish, who first gave us the tapas that let us taste a lot of little things without ordering oversized portions. In Spain, where the dinner hour is typically 11 p.m., tapas bars are the perfect place to stop for a small bite with a glass of dry sherry to stave off early-evening hunger pangs. At Andalucia, small bites can add up to a substantial meal with the variety of traditional favorites.
Andalucia is a bright, intimate Ravenswood neighborhood tapas restaurant nestled near the Montrose stop on the CTA Brown Line. The enthusiastic servers and delicious, authentic food inspired a search for the Spanish version of the French expression joie de vivre, meaning joy of life. My cousin, an American living in Spain, tells me that encantado de la vida, in love with life, comes closest to describing the conviviality at this lively spot.
The Only Thing Missing is Sea Air
Chef/owner Mario Oziel opened Andalucia in December, 2003, after 14 years of importing Spanish olive oil and gourmet foods. A native of Malaga, a city on the Mediterranean in the southern region of Andalucia, Oziel uses recipes he learned from his mother, as well as other authentic favorites featuring the bold flavors of garlic, parsley and olive oil. He’s created a spot where neighbors gather for a quick bite or a big celebration. There are about 20 tables inside and six or eight more on the sidewalk when weather permits. Andalucia captures the spirit of sunny Spain with bright yellow walls punctuated by blue and yellow tiles and posters from Spanish cities. Yet it’s truly a neighborhood spot, drawing families with small children, groups of friends, couples on dates and the occasional raucous celebration.
Steeped in Authenticity
Menu items are numbered for those who don’t want to order the wrong thing via mispronunciation, and the menu separates tapas frias (cold) and calientes (hot). On the hot side, you can’t go wrong with seafood. The gambas al ajilla ($5.95), grilled shrimp with olive oil, garlic and wine, has an addictive sauce perfect for dipping the small pieces of bread that keep arriving, as does the queso de cabra ($4.75), baked goat cheese with fresh tomato basil sauce. Continue with the delicious calamares a la plancha ($4.95), grilled squid with olive oil, garlic and lemon juice (and more bread for dipping) and pulpo a la plancha ($6.25), grilled octopus with potatoes and olive oil. Devoted carnivores will enjoy pincho de solomillo ($5.50), beef tenderloin, or moruno ($5.50), lamb brochettes.
On the cold side, I’d skip the tortilla Espanola ($3.50), a vegetarian Spanish omelet, which arrived too cold to really taste, except for the slightly overcooked bottom, although I’d heard raves from others. But order seconds of the papatas ali-oli ($3.75), red potatoes smothered in garlic mayo, and pimientos asados ($4.75), the fire-roasted peppers. Vegetarians will not go hungry with cold options like alcachofas, marinated artichokes ($5.25), aceitunas alinadas, Spanish olives ($3.75), and pisto manchego, roasted eggplant ($4.50), as well as hot dishes of patatas a la brava ($3.95), spicy potatoes “of the brave” and champinones ($3.95), grilled mushrooms.
And, of course, the Spanish paellas are impressive, particularly if you have a group with an appetite. On one visit a party erupted into applause when chef Oziel arrived tableside with an enormous flat pan of seafood paella ($12.95), a traditional rice dish in a saffron broth made with shrimp, fish and clams.
Desserts are a celebration of custard, in keeping with Spanish tradition. Only decorum stopped me from having two platano al carmelo ($3.50), a sautéed banana with caramel sauce and vanilla ice cream. Another favorite, judging by the number coming out of the kitchen, is the bizcocho borracho ($3.95), a Spanish version of the Italian classic tiramisu, lady fingers soaked in espresso and brandy, layered with custard and bittersweet chocolate, drizzled with a berry sauce.
The Final Word
Chef Oziel is still waiting for a liquor license, and until that happens the place is a BYO bargain. A pitcher of virgin sangria is a nice faux tipple, and, of course, you could add your own wine if you like.
Andalucia, 1820 W. Montrose Ave., Chicago, 773-334-6900. Tuesday through Sunday 4 p.m.–11 p.m., lunch Saturday and Sunday 11 a.m.–2 p.m. Closed Monday.
Janine MacLachlan is a freelance writer, cooking school owner and food enthusiast whose search for well-raised food is a passion. She is contributing editor to the Slow Food Guide to Chicago.