Naha The Cousins Nahabedian are new kids - but not neophytes - on this Chicago block. They deliver a virtuoso performance. By Nancy Ross Ryan Food photos by Laurie Proffitt    Interiors by Stuart-Rodgers Photography

Late last November, my hand on the door at Naha, Chef Carrie Nahabedian's new restaurant in the place that once was Gordon's, I felt edgy. Would I like it, hate it, be indifferent? Gordon Sinclair, a fixture for more than 20 years on that corner of Clark Street, is a hard act to follow. His sophisticated, capricious interior was replete with velvet cushions, banquettes, a piano, fringed curtains draped over ceramic hands, and a naughty mural on the west wall. All this and more contributed to the feeling that when you dined at Gordon you belonged to the demimonde. And although his chefs came and went throughout those years, the food was always good, sometimes excellent. 1. Dining room 2. Front façade 3. Chef Carrie Nahabedian

Today's front door is in a different place (at the far north end of the restaurant -- Gordon's was on south end), and stepping into Naha was flabbergasting: not an Oriental rug in sight! Underfoot were artfully stained concrete slabs. And although Naha's front door leads into a bar -- as did Gordon's -- this is a different world. The leather and concrete bar (an unheard of use of materials in the hey day of Gordon's) is at the back of an airy, spacious lounge, and an enormous window that runs the length of the facade bathes the restaurant in natural light by day or city lights by night. But what captivated me completely was rows of fragrant golden quince, lined up single file on trays throughout the restaurant. The restaurant was rebuilt and redesigned by Tom Nahabedian, Carrie's cousin, an IIT school of architecture graduate and founder of a Beverly Hills design firm. The dining room has a rich walnut floor, comfortable contemporary chairs designed by Tom, and the long banquettes and round booths are upholstered in understated fabric woven of linen, silk, wool and cotton yarns. The colors are natural -- chocolate, slate, fawn and blue. The walls are light and creamy, and there is ample space between tables -- a sacrifice of revenue in the service of comfort for guests. Naha is completely contemporary with no hard edges, but there is a meticulous attention to aesthetic detail: elegant expensive wine glasses, thick white table linens, and planters filled with seasonal flora -- grasses, twigs, buds, fruit -- that are both visual and functional as space dividers. The manager is Carrie's other cousin, Michael, a seasoned restaurateur formerly of two very successful Chicago restaurants Cafe Absinthe and Green Dolphin Street, a live jazz supper club. At Naha he is omnipresent, and one night, when I left the table briefly for the restroom, my dinner companion said that Michael had walked over to fold my napkin before I returned. But the undisputed star is Carrie and her food. Her cuisine is firmly based on classical training and 25 years of experience. She began her career in 1976 Chicago at the age of 17 at the Ritz-Carlton as a cook and, late in the millennium year returned home to open Naha. In between: She helped open a casino in Atlantic City, then cooked at Chicago's legendary Le Perroquet. She took a culinary tour of Europe and the Mediterranean, then returned to Chicago to cook at Le Francais under Jean Banchet, the first woman in his kitchen. A year later she worked with Chef Norman Van Aken at Sinclair's in Lake Forest, Illinois, (Gordon Sinclair's second restaurant). Working under them were two young Chicagoans, Suzy Crofton, who now owns her own Chicago restaurant Crofton's, and Charlie Trotter, who is now world-famous. Carrie cooked at Jovan, at La Tour in the then-Park Hyatt Hotel, and at the Four Seasons, all in Chicago. Then she went west to become executive chef of the Four Seasons Biltmore in Santa Barbara and Beverly Hills. Carrie's food has been described as "seasonal," and "American with Mediterranean influences." Seasonal? Certainly. Carrie has emphasized more than once her culinary debt to California and the variety and freshness of the ingredients she discovered there. American, of course: She is the epitome of the serious young, classically trained American chef. Mediterranean, yes: Barigoule of Artichokes, Mediterranean Greek Salad, Nicoise garnishes, Roasted aged Moulard Duck Breast, Italian white truffle scented mascarpone and spinach ravioli; the list, as they say, goes on and on. But above all, her food is intensely personal, a reflection of her considerable culinary talent and her life in a close, food-centered Armenian family. It is the way she combines food that transforms it, for example, that Barigoule of Artichokes ($20). "À la barigoule" (according to Larousse Gastronomique) is a traditional Provençal method of preparing braised artichokes -- as if they were barigoule mushrooms, i.e., cut flat, sprinkled with oil and grilled or broiled. Carrie tenderly braises then gilds these edible members of the thistle family with juicy, intensely sweet-tart blood orange segments, slender French green beans, and ripe, red tomatoes. The olive oil sauce is light and fragrant, and a Parmesan Swizzle Stick -- a basil and cheese encrusted bread stick sticking jauntily up from the plate -- adds crunch and a touch of salt. Other starters I have devoured: Roasted Sea Scallops Scented with Vanilla Bean and Spices, Caramelized Belgian Endives, Candied Orange and Mint ($14); Wood Grilled Quail Salad of Italian Frisee, Fingerling Potatoes, Griddled Forest Mushrooms and Poached Quail Egg ($12); Tartare of Ahi Tuna and Russian Golden Osetra Caviar with a Mosaic of Vegetables and Cured Salmon, Nicoise Garnishes and Aigrelette Sauce ($15); Gemelli Noodles and Braised Oxtails with Root Vegetables and Brussel Sprouts ($12); and, last but not least, Our Mother's Own Feta Cheese Triangles ($8). Those feta cheese things are an invitation to utter turpitude. They bear no resemblance to any borek I, or anyone I know, ever tasted. They fairly float off the plate -- ethereal flaky tender pastries, hot from the oven, stuffed with fluffy cheese and bursting with butter. Either they should be taken off the menu or some kind of limit on consumption imposed. The above are part of the Mediterranean infused lounge menu, which includes wonderful Crispy Calamari ($9), Wood-grilled Lamb Kebabs with Minted Yogurt ($10), Mediterranean Flatbread with Roasted Tomatoes and Goat Cheese ($9), and House-cured Salmon on Toasted Brioche ($10). They're available from 5 p.m. until the kitchen closes, six nights a week. Back to the starters. The scallops are a prime example of Carrie's "sweet-savory" style which has other representatives on the menu, and comes from a long tradition of sweet-sour-savory dishes that many contemporary chefs don't include in their cooking styles. (I'm thinking of borscht, of the French aigre-doux sauces, of the Italian agri-dolci rabbit and salt cod dishes, Spanish manchego cheese with quince paste, European pork with prunes, Chinese Peking duck, etc.) The scallops with candied orange and mint and vanilla bean, the caramelized endives create a delicious delicate sugar overtone that makes me feel I have somehow pulled one over on the rules of dining and am sneaking in just a hint of dessert at the beginning. The soup of the three squashes was rich and creamy from the acorn and butternut squashes, crunch from the strands of spaghetti squash, and kissed with sweet maple syrup-infused brioche croutons. Another sweet-savory dish is an entree, the Mustard Seed Glazed Hot Smoked Alaskan King Salmon with French Lentils, Savoy Cabbage and Onions, Balsamic Syrup, and Thyme ($25). The salmon is applewood smoked, and the sweet, slow-cooked cabbage and onions, along with the unctuous balsamic syrup add up to a satisfying updated interpretation of using sweetness to amplify flavor in savory foods -- a tradition that probably started with the ancient Romans. But my dinner companions thoroughly enjoyed these dishes, even without all these culinary ruminations and speculations . On a more classic note, the tartare of tuna is one of the most attractive presentations I have seen and one of the best I have tasted. The uncooked tuna is chopped and mixed with onions, capers, cured salmon, and formed into a round, topped with golden osetra caviar and served on a deep-blue glass plate. It is nothing short of wonderful. And the wood grilled quail is outstanding. Tender, juicy and perfectly grilled quail crown a small thicket of crisp, pale green frisée that holds a tiny sauteed quail egg. The salad is ringed with perfectly cooked (not mushy) fingerling potatoes and quickly grilled porcini mushrooms. A hearty dish that warmed our table one cold February night was a delicious bowlful of gemelli pasta sauced with braised (boneless) ox tails in a large white bowl with diced root vegetables and Brussel sprouts. The food is so good it's hard to find worthy adjectives. The Grilled Veal Chop ($31) was perfectly cooked, tender, juicy and pink in the center. It was accompanied by potatoes fondant, sliced, deliciously caramelized potatoes that I have not encountered before, tomatoes that were oven-roasted to concentrate flavors, sweet cipollini onions and fresh fava beans. On one occasion the veal was served with chanterelle and on another with hedgehog mushrooms. But on both it was accompanied by the most enchanting "steak" knife -- a Laquile brand, hand-forged, with a little bee at the blunt end of the blade shaft. A personal favorite is the Filets of John Dory with Rustic Tomato Fondue, Cannellini Beans, Olive Oil Braised Fennel and Aromatics ($26). Several filets of this delicate white-fleshed fish (which other chefs have told me is hard to come by and very costly) are served with the very Mediterranean combination of tomatoes, beans and fennel, faintly redolent of excellent olive oil. The desserts are not just to die for they are worth waiting for. And our waiter one night informed us that there would be a "half hour wait" for the Warm Blueberry Clafoutis and Crème Fraîche Ice Cream ($8). We waited and were not disappointed. The clafouti custard is baked in a sweet tender pastry shell, loaded with fresh blueberries that burst in your mouth, and the little tart is topped with a rich, silky, sweet-tangy house made crème fraîche ice cream. For people passionate about chocolate (I'm one) the menu, at present, has three wonderful ways to go: Delice of Bittersweet Chocolate and Caramel with Red Wine Poached Figs and Fresh Cocoa Bean Crisp, French Orange Chocolate Pot de Crème and Tahitian Vanilla Bean Crème Brulée, and Warm Chocolate and Pistachio Scented Cake with Milk Chocolate Mocha Ice Cream ($8 each). I've tried the Delice back in December when it was accompanied with red wine poached fresh black figs. When fresh figs are out of season dried are used but plumped up by the poaching till juicy and tender. The delice itself is a freestanding caramel-based dark chocolate mousse with two thin layers of chocolate cake, one on the bottom and one in the middle. I have practically inhaled the rich orange-scented chocolate pot de crème with its companion vanilla to the nth power crème brulée, and my next target is the chocolate cake. Having sampled my dinner companion's Warm Brown Butter Almond and Forelle Pear Cake with its trio of accompaniments -- Almond Ice Cream, Red Bartlett Pear Sorbet and Bosc Pear Compote -- I'm going to order one of my very own next time around. The attention to architectural and decor details carries over to the food. The bread (from Red Hen Bread, a waiter said) is outstanding. Although I love the sourdough with its moist open structure, and the denser, darker raisin-walnut bread, and I could make an entire meal on the Moroccan bread with its seductive herbs and spices, slathered of course with the rich yellow butter that comes to the table in a tiny white china ramekin. O.K. I have to complain about something. That's de rigeur for critics, so I will offer two criticisms. The service is sometimes a little slow. But the servers I and my friends have had were consistently friendly, professional and completely knowledgeable about the food and able to recommend good wine matches from the 24 wines by the glass list. (Four of these are sparkling.) Slow service is symptomatic of newness, and time will grant them speed. But the second criticism is not so easily remedied, and has nothing to do with food or service. There is -- as there was at Gordon's -- only one woman's restroom at Naha's, and if a narcissist beats you to it, the wait outside can be tedious. (There is, however, another restroom down a long flight of stairs.) There is also only one men's restroom, but I suspect men don't impede progress by renewing their lipstick, enhancing their blush, or obsessing about their appearance. Left: Seared Hudson Valley Duck Liver with Roasted Preserved Quince Right: Bittersweet Chocolate and Caramel with Red Wine Poached Figs