Anelya

Anelya commits fully to a bit and then backs it up with the cooking. The room comes lit in lava-lamp color under flower-shaped fixtures, vegetable sculptures grin down from the open kitchen, and synthpop plays like the place moonlights as a discotheque. It should feel like a gimmick. It doesn't, because the zakusky cart that rolls through the dining room carries three tiers of appetizers that earn the theater around them — cured pork sliced thin with garlic and horseradish, deviled eggs built with real care. Skipping the cart isn't really an option.

This is Ukrainian food that refuses to play it safe or play it museum-quiet, from the team behind Parachute, and Avondale is better for having it. The value holds even when the check creeps up, because the room, the service, and the plates are all pulling in the same direction — something a lot of ambitious restaurants can't manage.

Consecutive years on Michelin's Chicago list and repeated national recognition confirm what's obvious at the table: this isn't a novelty act. It's one of the more genuinely fun serious meals in the city.