Warlord Review

Isaac Dienstag

It’s rare in the current Chicago culinary scene to find a restaurant that lets its food speak for itself. If you head to Warlord’s website, you’ll find little more than a single line about the restaurant. No menu, no reservations, no photos, no details. Opened in 2023 by a trio of veteran Chicago chefs (Kasama, Rootstock, Farmhouse alums), Warlord’s intrigue is heightened by its elusive presence: operating just Friday to Monday, with a strictly first-come, first-serve policy and a kitchen open until 1 a.m. in Chicago's Avondale neighborhood. Their menu changes daily, but you can always expect a few smaller bites, a large array of various meats, and their famous dry-aged burger— the only mainstay of their menu. Since this restaurant keeps its culinary secrets under wraps, let me give you a glimpse of the real Warlord, the place behind the mystery.

The mysterious, dark interior of the restaurant

If you choose to go to Warlord, the first thing you’ll notice when you walk in the music. A loud mix of mostly 90s and 2000s boom bap hip-hop sets the tone. Hanging chains, large legs of meat, and whole fish give the room a factory-like aesthetic. This isn’t your neighborhood Italian restaurant, or classic American steakhouse. This isn’t a place to bring coworkers, or a first date. So what is it? I’ll get to that later.

After the music, you notice the darkness. Warlord isn’t just dim—it’s unapologetically dark, with the overhead lights intentionally off. The industrial-gothic ambiance, enhanced by pops of colorful ambient hues scattered across the exposed brick walls and misshapen wax-dripped candles lining every table and bar, creates a uniquely intense and mysterious vibe. I sat at a table, but here the bar is arguably the best seat in the house. From this front row, you’re just six feet from the open kitchen’s roaring fire, a source of both captivating light and wood-fired flavor that infuses nearly every dish

My meal began with oysters, both raw and grilled. I’m partial to raw, but our waitress recommended I try both, and I’m glad she did. The raw oysters come over ice as normal, but more surprisingly, the grilled oysters arrive over a bed of hot coals, creating a nice presentational contrast between the two. Both come with just a wedge of lemon— no sauce. The raw oysters were strong with a nice hit of brininess. The grilled oysters came topped with breadcrumbs, and the oyster flavor became subdued but replaced by a pleasant smokiness—something that would become a theme throughout the meal.

Next came the Toma della Rocca—a rich and subtle goaty cheese paired with honey-crusted bread, tart gooseberries, and, optionally, a foie gras ganache. The honey brought a welcome sweetness, cutting through the wood fired bread's char, while the gooseberries added a nice touch of acidity. The foie gras ganache, creamy and luxurious as expected, was delightful on its own. Yet, when paired with the cheese, it was slightly overpowering, and felt more like a contender than a complement. Unless you’re a die-hard foie gras fan, I’d suggest passing on the add-on.

Now we come to the heart of Warlord: the meat and the fire. First up was the octopus. Tender and devoid of the chewiness that many find off-putting, it had a texture closer to pork belly or ham. The dish was glazed in a tangy, barbecue sauce made from fermented cherry bomb peppers, the octopus absorbed the wood-fired flavors, resulting in a perfect balance of sweet, smoky, spicy, and tangy in every bite. This dish is absolutely a must-order if it’s available.

I don’t think you can legally call yourself a ‘contemporary American’ restaurant without a signature burger. Cooked medium-rare, Warlord’s thick patty was so fatty that it easily dissolved in my mouth. To compensate, the bun is lightly charred, not buttery, adding structure and balance to the dish. Finished with just-cooked onions and a caramelized onion mayo, the whole package was tight, rich, and satisfyingly complete—so much so, you probably won’t even notice the absence of cheese— I know I didn’t.

The final savory dish to arrive was the duck topped with fennel pollen, and another simple yet delicious sauce. It comes beautifully presented with a breast in the middle, showing off the perfect doneness, surrounded by a thigh and a wing. The crispy edges immediately surrounding a juicy layer of fat made a classic crunchy on the outside, chewy on the inside texture that I find so satisfying. This was the least smokey of the mains, but it made up for it with robust, deep flavors, and a perfectly tender meat.

The food at Warlord is noticeably precise and unadorned. Each dish has been reduced down to only the necessary ingredients. No sauce for the oysters, no cheese on the burger. The mains don’t have elaborate sides. Instead, they have palate cleansers— you get a honeycrisp apple with the burger, and a couple slices of pear with the duck. They have one dessert a night, and after all the savory, smokey food, you’ll probably want it. The night I went it was a chocolate mousse with chewy huckleberries and olive oil. Simple, balanced, delicious, it followed the trend of the food throughout the night.

So to answer my original question, what defines Warlord? And, importantly, should you go? If you love woodfired cooking as much as I do, the answer is unequivocally, yes. If that isn’t your style, it’s a little more complicated. The food was great, and if you happen to find yourself nearby in Lincoln Park or Avondale looking for a meal, I’d recommend stopping by, as long as you’re okay with the possibility of waiting for a table. Warlord, if nothing else, felt like a passion project. Not everything worked perfectly, but it’s obvious that every aspect of it is a part of the chefs’ greater vision. For me, that’s refreshing in a world of West Loop crowd pleasers. So, if you’re looking for the smoke, the dark, and the music, Warlord is worth the adventure.