A PERFECT SWISH

There’s no use burying the lead: Michael Jordan’s Steakhouse may be the most-impressive athlete-owned restaurant concept in the country. Elway. Arnie. Ditka. Brett Favre. They’re gold-jacket legends, one and all, but not a single one would make my list of hall-of-fame restaurateurs.

When, after all, was the last time you ate at a restaurant with an athlete’s name on the marquee and didn’t feel the sudden urge to burn his or her jersey in effigy afterwards?

Let’s be honest: Most athlete-run grilles and cocktail lounges are glorified tourist traps. I’ve eaten more sawdust-flavored burgers at sports bars owned by baseball players than I care to admit. I’ve eaten at restaurant run by championship golfers and Super Bowl-winning quarterbacks and guys who’ve hoisted the Stanley cup. In almost every case, I exited wishing I’d made a field trip to Hardee’s and they’d had the good sense to stick with their day job.

And then there’s MJ’s in Oakbrook. This one’s different—an outlier. I’d go so far as to say it’s a baller of a restaurant, which had us, by evening’s end, walking on air.

What you won’t find at MJ’s is your typical fireplace-and-cherrywood ambiance. MJ’s isn’t that kind of steakhouse. The vibe is more casual and family friendly. The color scheme of the restaurant—midnight meets maroons—was clearly inspired by the Bulls black and red unforms. Entire walls are devoted to black-and-white photos of MJ in various stages of flight. And on some nights, the kitchen staff gifts diners posters of Jordan emblazoned with the letters G.O.A.T. to remind everyone who is the greatest basketball player of all time.

Yet MJ’s manages to celebrate the achievements of its famous namesake without devolving into slavish sentimentality or overt hagiography. The food is the real lure, while the nostalgia regarding MJ’s glory days acting as little more than feel-good reminder of glory days past.

I don’t think we were prepared, for instance, to love executive chef Cein Cid’s crab cake as much as we did. Visually speaking, it’s a stunner. It’ll arrive at your table looking like a perfectly baked Southern biscuit. It’ll stand two standard ring molds high, pan-friend and bronzed around its edges as if it’s been dipped in a lacquer of freshly browned butter.

Crack into that thin veneer of crust and you’ll get at all the glory: sweet tangles and feather-shaped bits of crab meat, which tumble down to the plate into a miniature pool of Meyer lemon aioli.

There are no cheap fillers—the goop and glue used by so many lesser steakhouses —to be found anywhere to be found in this preparation.

This is exactly what you want from a steakhouse crab cake. Waves of flavor. First comes the crunch of that that pan-seared skin. Then the sweet spray of briny crab meat. And then a final undercurrent of citrus, delicate as a spritz of fresh-squeezed lemon. Good luck finding a more satisfying crab cake this side of the Florida Keys.

I’d argue that the two seafood offerings we ordered at MJ’s were every bit as impressive as its signature steaks. Our Lake Superior whitefish— two meaty oversize fillets—came drizzled with preserved lemon and brown butter. But ultimately, it was the dish’s briny relish—a piquant mash-up of caperberries, roasted almonds and tiny bits of fingerling potatoes—that I wanted to take home and bottle up for our next family fish fry.

I’m not sure there’s anything on MJ’s appetizer list I wouldn’t order again. Slabs of double-cut bacon candied with maple syrup. A stellar Wagyu meatball platter. And, most impressive of all, the house’s signature garlic bread: Crispy planks of ciabatta bread, rubbed with garlic and glistening with oil. They’re stacked like a Jenga tower and then moated by thin blue-cheese dipping sauce, which tastes like a cross between a high-end Big Mac sauce and buttermilk-gorgonzola salad dressing.

The Cornerstone Restaurant Group licenses or operates five different MJ steakhouse locations, which run the gamut from a Michigan Avenue outpost in downtown Chicago to a global entry in South Korea. The restaurant is known for its “Steakmanship” program, a collection of premier steaks includes a 10-ounce Australian wagyu New York strip and $200-plus surf-and-turf steak flight, complete with butter-poached lobster and roasted garlic shrimp. Everything on that particular list is a special, but I’ve always been partial to MJ’s signature steak: a 45-ounce dry-aged porterhouse.

The steaks at MJ’s are seasoned with kosher salt and black pepper, warmed to your desired temp, and then hit with the kitchen’s secret weapon: a brown butter-beef fat coating, which is twice as glorious as sounds.

MJ’s dry-aged ribeye is one seriously unctuous steaks. Ours was encrusted with a slightly charred crust; a slightly pink ring of seared beef beneath it and an iron-red in the middle. If you opt for any dry-aged cut, expect all that beautifully controlled dehydration to give off a distinctive and delicious lilt of muskiness and campfire smokiness.

We recommend you pair your steak with the starch of your choice—perhaps the four-cheese mac & cheese made from a blend of sharp cheddar, Grana Padano; American and mozzarella. And then finish the evening by ordering a slice of the house’s decadent 23-layer cake—inspired, of course—by the number MJ work on the back of his jersey.

I don’t care if you’re a die-hard “Bad Boys Era” Pistons fan, who’s assembled the world’s largest collection of Bill Laimbeer bobbleheads. Or if you laid down a massive wager that the Jazz would beat the Bulls in the 1998 championship. Or if you’re a charter member of the LeBron James Society, and have dedicated your life to getting into fiery Twitter spats with anyone who claims Jordan is the true NBA G.O.A.T.

If you’re a beef eater—or a seafood lover—MJ’s Steak House is going to deliver nothing but net.

Michael Jordan’s Steak House is located 1225 W 22nd St, Oak Brook. 630.828.2932, michaeljordansteakhouse.com.

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Cocktails

JUMPMAN: This may be the most iconic cocktail in Oak Brook. A frothy egg-white foam is spray painted with MJ’s famous Jumpman silhouette. It also happens to be one of the few pear-flavored tequila drinks I’d ever whip up at home. Imagine a pisco sour cross-bread with an Asian pear martini. Trust us, it’ll make you fly.

THE PERFECT PEAR: Cincomarg: If you’re unfamiliar with the Cincoro Reposada Tequila, you’re in for a treat. There’s no other tequila quite like it; Think caramel-flavored tequila—creamy and nutty. It’s mixed here with a smoky agave, dry curacao, and a hint of lemon. Smooth as silk.