Baptiste & Bottle towers above River North, aeried on the 20th floor of the Conrad Chicago. For a business lunch, the height cuts two ways, creating a snoozy atmosphere but also a meditative vantage.
On the one hand, the absence of outside passers-by, with the exception of birds and hardy spiders, means the large, comfortable dining room feels deserted, occupied only by hotel guests. Or so suggests the “welcome back” that greets even first-time visitors crossing the entryway to the elevators, as well as the disappearance of the servers after the charge-to-room receipt arrives.
On the other, customers have their choice of seating and tables, high-top or low-, and access to the nice view of other high floors and rooftops. It’s no Willis Tower, but lovers of the lofty will find gratification.
Food varies in quality, skewed more toward pluses. The range is visible in two soups: The chicken noodle ($7/$10) tastes as if it could have come from any old diner, with a not-robust, strongly vegetable-flavored broth. The mushroom soup ($8/$11), however, envelops the eater with rich mushroom flavor, punctuated with a soupcon of banyuls vinegar and the texture of nuts.
You could bring a client here. Maybe for a high-importance, low-distraction conversation, though; not to celebrate a deal.
In the evenings, Baptiste & Bottle touts its throwbacky tableside cocktail program. At lunch, the braked carts still sit at the edge of the dining area, but the theatrics aren’t available. Barrel-aged cocktails are, however, including a sturdy old-fashioned ($18).
A bottom-of-the-menu box offers two courses for $20, a prix fixe the restaurant calls “executive lunch.” One of the main-plate choices, the cool, gently cooked, herby lobster roll, normally costs $22, so they are essentially paying you $2 to eat a soup or salad.
Many dishes pique a thoughtful diner’s interest, nonthreateningly. The mac and cheese ($14) advertises jalapeno on the menu, and the pepper appears not in small chunks but incorporated into the very gooey cheese, carrying both a slow burn and unmistakable jalapeno flavor, even as distinct from other peppers. The fried chicken sandwich ($15) doesn’t go the mayonnaise, pickles and optional spice route but swerves to sweet, with an apple-celery-root slaw and a crispy skin coated in maple-chile glaze.
Superchef Richard Sandoval, known locally for Latinicity, oversees the development of Baptiste & Bottle’s menu, along with Conrad Chicago’s other drinking and dining options.