Girl and the Goat Review

Lucia Cook

Walking into Girl and the Goat on a Saturday night in Chicago’s West Loop, I expected the usual chaos that comes with one of the city’s most highly ranked restaurants: shoulder-to-shoulder tables, overpowering noise, and a room buzzing more for spectacle than substance. Instead, I was struck by how unexpectedly calm the space felt. The dining room was lively without being overwhelming, roomy enough to feel comfortable, intimate enough to feel intentional, and, most notably, quiet enough to hold a real conversation.

The atmosphere set the tone for the night. Despite a crowd that spanned every age, style, and occasion, the restaurant never felt frenetic or performative. We stood out slightly as six women getting ready for a long, indulgent dinner, but the room’s relaxed energy made it easy to settle in. The family-style menu encouraged lingering, sharing plates, comparing bites, and collectively deciding what was worth a second order.

The Evening's Journey (Buckle Up)

We started the evening with the stout brioche and pimento cheese dip, one of Girl and the Goat's sharing plates, and I'll be honest: this one didn't quite land for me. The combination of pickle relish with the sweet, pillowy brioche created a textural and flavor contrast that felt more discordant than intentional. I appreciate Southern-inspired pimento cheese, but pairing it with brioche and pickle relish muddied what could have been a more cohesive dish. The sweetness of brioche typically calls for either a complementary sweetness or a clean, savory contrast—perhaps a honey butter or even a fresh pico de gallo would have worked better. As it stood, the elements seemed to be working against each other rather than with each other.

The sautéed green beans, which arrived toward the end of our meal, were a different story entirely. These were exceptionally well-executed—perfectly seasoned with just the right amount of restraint, allowing the natural flavor of the beans to shine through. The texture hit that ideal crisp-tender sweet spot, and the fish sauce vinaigrette added a wonderful umami depth without overwhelming the dish. The cashews added a pleasant textural contrast. At $18, this was a thoughtful vegetable preparation that deserved more attention than it got as a late arrival to our table. As a sharing dish, it was easy for the six of us to pass around and enjoy together.

The hamachi aguachile showcased beautifully fresh fish with a gentle heat that added interest without overwhelming the delicate flavor of the hamachi. The avocado sauce was silky and well-balanced, complementing the fish nicely. My only critique would be the ratio of plantain chips to aguachile—there simply weren't enough to carry you through the entire dish, which left me wishing for more of that crunchy vehicle for our table to share. At $25, the quality of the fish was evident, though the execution could have been slightly more generous for a sharing-style plate.

The shrimp salad was, without question, the standout of our entire meal. What impressed me most was the careful attention to every component. The limey-herby dressing was light enough to enhance rather than mask the fresh ingredients, and the quinoa crunch, along with pickled vegetables, provided textural interest throughout. But what really distinguished this dish was the shrimp itself: perfectly cooked, properly sized, and evenly distributed so that each forkful offered a complete, balanced bite. Too often, shrimp in salads are either overcooked or unevenly incorporated, but this kitchen clearly understands the importance of proper technique and thoughtful composition. The avocado and apples added creaminess and subtle sweetness, rounding out the flavor profile beautifully.

The wood-fired chicken delivered on its promise, with genuinely moist, well-seasoned meat that proved careful attention during cooking. The cashew butter provided richness without heaviness, while the savory mushroom oil contributed earthy depth. The crispy sunchokes offered a welcome textural element that elevated the dish beyond standard chicken preparations. At $27, this was a solid, well-conceived plate that demonstrated technical skill and worked beautifully as a centerpiece sharing dish for the table.

The goat empanadas—fitting for a restaurant with "goat" in its name—presented a nicely balanced flavor profile, with the mushroom mole bringing earthy complexity and the pickled beech mushrooms adding brightness and acidity. The queso fresco provided a cooling, creamy element that tied everything together. These were well-constructed and thoughtfully seasoned, offering good value at $22 and perfectly portioned for sharing among the group.

The sticky glazed pork shank was the other triumph of the evening, rivaling the shrimp salad for honors. This was an exceptionally well-integrated dish where every component—the stonefruit salad, pickled cucumber salad, hoisin mayo, and hot mustard mayo—worked in harmony rather than competition. The pork itself was fork-tender with a glaze that struck the perfect balance between sweet and savory. At $45, this was the most expensive item we ordered and an investment, but one that delivered on both flavor and execution. The careful composition and layering of flavors showed a kitchen working at a high level. As a sharing plate, it was generous enough to give everyone at our table of six a satisfying portion, making the price point feel more reasonable.

Atmosphere

While the food demonstrated clear thoughtfulness and technical skill, Girl and the Goat's interior design felt somewhat scattered in its vision. The space seemed to pull from several different aesthetics: moody and dark in some areas, bright and funky in others, with farm-to-table elements woven throughout. None of these approaches is wrong individually, but together they create a slightly disjointed atmosphere that doesn’t quite match the cohesiveness of the dishes on the menu. The restaurant seemed unable to commit to a single identity, a missed opportunity given the strength of its culinary execution.

Overall Rating: 8.4/10

Girl and the Goat’s strengths are most evident in its execution and flavor balance, particularly in standouts like the shrimp salad and the sticky glazed pork shank. Not every dish landed—the brioche appetizer was a clear miss—but the kitchen’s command of technique and ingredient pairing comes through across most of the menu. The family-style format shines for group dining, encouraging experimentation and shared decision-making that elevates the experience beyond individual plates. I’d happily return to this West Loop staple, next time knowing exactly what to order—and what to skip. For a group dinner where conversation matters as much as the food, Girl and the Goat delivers memorable highs with only a few missteps along the way.