Alright, friends, let’s hop in the time machine and set the dial to 2018. Or wait—why am I dragging you into this? You don’t know me that well.. I am casting my mind back to 2018, when I first moved to The Loop in Chicago. I knew exactly one person and had a promising text exchange with another (spoiler alert: we’re great friends now, thanks to a mutual intro).

Whenever I land in a new town, my first mission is to find a restaurant that feels like home – if you are old enough, I was looking for a place where I could be the ‘Norm’ from the TV show Cheers. Enter The Smith. From day one, it became my culinary home base: amazing food, super service, and a staff I grew to adore (many of whom have since moved on to other horizons).

Fast forward to a particularly fruitless day of retail therapy (because apparently the perfect dress for my holiday part doesn’t exist). I wandered back into The Smith, looking for comfort. Sad trombone: it was still the lunch/brunch menu. But in true Smith fashion, the bartender asked what I was craving, and I sheepishly admitted I’d been dreaming of their Pot of Mussels—the one that lives on the dinner menu. Cue magic: a few minutes later, out came the mussels, complete with a side of fries large enough to feed a family of 4.

Picture this: plump, juicy mussels lounging in a chardonnay broth spiked with dijon and tarragon, just begging for a loaf of bread to cannonball in. Sans bread, I leaned on the aforementioned mountain of crispy, salted frites. It was the culinary equivalent of heaven—made better by the glass of Touraine Sauvignon Blanc I paired it with, which cut through the richness like a ninja.

Over my 6+ years in Chicago, The Smith has been a constant—through birthdays, pandemic patio dining (complete with freezing temps and heroic layers of clothing), family visits, and even a last-minute wedding breakfast for 12 that had me playing event planner for the day. Oh, and let’s not forget the time they swooped in to host a private event for my 16-person team after another venue dropped the ball. Heroes wear aprons, people.

So, to The Smith: thank you for feeding me, welcoming me, and making those early days in Chicago feel a little less daunting. You’ve been my go-to in both chaotic times and calm ones, and for that, I’ll always save room for mussels.