West Loop - Nick Jardine Review

A while ago, while mulling over mediocre football results, the founder of this webite, a prestigious, if not a rather hairy man, suggested I sample some of North America's versions of our beloved Nando's. Finding myself in the Windy City, I have to say I was most excited to see how the US had taken to the chicken. Could we envision, perchance, the spread of Nando's across this enormous continent? Or, would the American market remain a peri-peripheral location for our favorite chain? Did the hot bird make it successfully across the Atlantic? Sadly, as we all know, chickens can't fly.

The Chicago location has all the familiar feelings of your run-of-the-mill Nando's. There's a mix-match of tables and chairs. The space is light and airy and the decor is mostly on the funky side. I arrived right at the start of lunchtime. By the end of my meal the place was heaving. The line to order chicken literally reached back into the toilets.

I ordered what I'd usually have in the UK-- Chicken pita, hot, chips (aka french fries) and spicy rice. I like carbs. I also had some peri-peri nuts, because I'm a nutter.

The food arrived with the speed of a million gazelles. Whisked from the kitchen before I even had a chance to collect my condiments, it looked familiar enough. The pita was perhaps a little larger than the UK version. The side portions seemingly the same size. Upon lifting the pita to my drooling mouth, however, I noticed something quite distressing.

There was no chicken in my pita. I didn't know if this was a joke so I asked the staff about it. I was told, "There is a little bit of chicken in there, but we can get you some more." A little bit of chicken? Why on earth do you think I came to this establishment? To have a little bit of chicken and a cigarette? To listen to afro-funk while I sipped a diet ginger ale and nibbled on a side salad? I came to have some poultry thank you very much. And good poultry, not paltry poultry. So back to the kitchen with my plate it was.

The food came back quickly enough, maybe after a five minute wait. They took the step of refreshing the chips as well. But hang on a second, wot is dis on the chips? They were slathered in so much salt they sucked every ounce of moisture out of my mouth. Not even bottomless drinks could hydrate my esophagus. Not great. If I hadn't been hungry I probably would have left them. Then again, if I hadn't been hungry I probably wouldn't have been in Nando's. I'd probably have been having an espresso or reading a book or something.

The chicken pita itself was fine. It had a reasonable amount of sauce, and tasted pretty good. But it was poorly put together; I'd go as far to say unbalanced. The majority of chicken and sauce was collected at the bottom of the sandwich, leaving my initial bites disappointing and my latter bites a little too saturated with peri-peri. Eating this sandwich was akin to listening to a 1980s power ballad. Slow to begin with, rising into a crescendo and, finally, becoming a little overwhelming. Think Total Eclipse of the Heart.