• Alison Green
  • Squab Wellington, suitable for a curtained booth

At Untitled, the River North “speakeasy” that announces its name only on a sign touting valet parking, Mike Sula finds an initially appealing hideout with imposing black doors, curtained booths, a back patio, a “secret” entrance, a “whiskey library,” and performance spaces hosting jazz and burlesque. Given its scope and ambition, the food’s impressive: chef Joseph Heppe makes good on promises of seasonality, offering “arugula with firm but sweet grilled peaches, delicately battered and deep-fried squash blossoms filled with warm farmer’s cheese, favas and mache sprinkled about with bloodred bresola shavings.” The success of other plates, like a loose, juicy bison burger, bodes well for the rest of the year. But alas, there’s the rest of the place—servers disappear into the noise, there’s no printed list available for what’s claimed to be the “largest selection of American whiskey in the world,” and pricey cocktails are atrociously executed. In Sula’s view, despite its vastness, Untitled winds up seeming stuffy and claustrophobic, “the kind of party where you feel utterly alone.”