
These three Chicago restaurants took home James Beard Awards last night
Chicago has a storied history with the James Beard Foundation Awards, taking home a whopping 50 trophies since the culinary honors hosted its first ceremony back in 1991. And that connection triumphantly continued at the 2025 James Beard Restaurant and Chef Awards, which were held at the Windy City's own Lyric Opera of Chicago—its home base through 2027—on Monday, June 16, where two top-rate local spots got their well-deserved dues.
Chicago had 22 semifinalists up for awards in categories like Outstanding Restaurant, Outstanding Chef and Best New Restaurant, two of which ultimately took home a coveted medal. First-time nominee Kumiko —Julia Momose's elegant West Loop bar that pairs Japanese omakase with bespoke cocktails to sublime results—was rightfully crowned this year's Outstanding Bar, beating out worthy competitors like Scotch Lodge (Portland, OR), The Lovers Bar at Friday Saturday Sunday (Philadelphia, PA), Water Witch (Salt Lake City, UT) and Wolf Tree (White River Junction, VT).
And over in the Best Chef: Great Lakes category (which honors top toques in the states of Illinois, Indiana, Michigan and Ohio), Noah Sandoval of two-Michelin-starred Oriole in the Fulton River District, continuing a nice little streak for Chicago-area chefs. This is the fourth time in five years that a local chef has won in the category, with Sandoval joining Kasama 's Tom Flores (2023) and Genie Kwon (2022) and Virtue 's Erick Williams (2021). What a group!
Outside of the competitive categories, a longtime Chicago favorite also got some James Beard love this year: Lem's Bar-B-Q, the longstanding barbecue joint in Greater Grand Crossing, was the recipient of one of the foundation's 2025 America's Classics Award, which recognizes 'locally owned restaurants with timeless appeal that serve quality food and are beloved by their communities.' Lem's was joined by fellow iconic eateries including the Pioneer Saloon in Ketchum, ID; Sullivan's Castle Island in Boston, MA; Lucky Wishbone in Anchorage, AK; Dooky Chase in New Orleans, LA; and Gaido's in Galveston, TX.
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It could sound trite, but it does seem like this is exactly what he's done – even bringing his pre-Stranger Things band Post Animal on tour with him (he rejoined the group earlier this year). We meet at a shabby-chic north London pub, with Keery two shows into a three-night run at the nearby O2 Forum. Looking very much 'incognito musician', he wears a paint-splattered grey shirt, striped white barrel jeans and snakeskin-effect black cowboy boots, with hair that toes the line between artfully lived-in and a little greasy, and slim, rectangular sunglasses. Although he is a New Yorker these days, he was born and raised in Massachusetts and sports a Boston Red Sox cap. Initially, he seems a little guarded (the glasses stay on for 10 minutes or so), but that slowly seeps away and a playful, thoughtful music nerd emerges – the same Keery who recently appeared on the YouTube 'name that tune' series Track Star* waxing lyrical about Bryan Ferry and the Cars. 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The first person in his family to leave the state for university (not for any good reason, he says, but because he didn't get good enough grades to go to UMass in Amherst), he landed at drama school in Chicago, and fell in love with the city ('Working-class town, great art scene, affordable … absolutely ungodly weather that will test you all year, but then the most glorious summer'). After studying there, he stayed in the city and played guitar and keys with Post Animal, whose style was (and remains) psychedelic, flecked with prog and classic rock. He recalls the band's early days, playing at events such as Austin Psych Fest as 'a cool bonding experience. You're kind of cutting your teeth doing that stuff, you're having your highs and lows together. Sometimes it sucks and you bomb. It's fun to have those experiences, though, to look back on.' 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[Then you think] ummm, no, I'm gonna go upstairs. You're constantly confronted with the anxiety of interacting versus the payoff of meeting a new friend or having a new experience. It's always worth it to go and talk to somebody, but there's always a little voice that's like: well, we could just be safe right now, you know.' Is it because he worries about being recognised? 'No, no, not because of that. It's just the fear of rejection, normal human stuff. Everybody has this little monkey on their back. Everybody wants to desperately connect, but also is afraid of it.' Sign up to Inside Saturday The only way to get a look behind the scenes of the Saturday magazine. Sign up to get the inside story from our top writers as well as all the must-read articles and columns, delivered to your inbox every weekend. after newsletter promotion Really, though, there is a lot of that connection on the album. Keery's sisters sing on the Springsteen-in-training bop Back on You ('Why not have a love song for your sisters or for your friends or for your parents?'). Charlie's Garden – a jaunty paean to 70s pop – sees Keery and Heaton, who plays Steve's victim turned pal Jonathan in Stranger Things, perform an ode to the latter's home in Atlanta. What sort of things went on in Charlie's back yard? 'All sorts of bad stuff,' Keery says with a mischievous giggle. However, the place sounds incredibly wholesome. 'There was a cold plunge, ping pong. You're exercising, digging holes, pulling down trees, hanging lights. Guy does a lot of chores! He's a very good homeowner.' The song – 'bouncy, fun, not serious' – is, Keery says, a tribute not just to Heaton and his partner Natalia Dyer (Stranger Things' Nancy) but to all his mates down there. 'It's a little tip of the cap to everybody in Atlanta who had such a big effect on me,' he says. 'My community down there ended up being so much more important to me than I ever thought that they would be. We're all bonded for life.' Being part of a huge TV franchise (Netflix's third most-watched series ever, at the time of writing) could sometimes feel uncanny, 'numbing' even. But, he says, 'we always had each other. It wasn't like being Macaulay Culkin or something, where you're like, the one person in that one thing. I always feel pretty lucky in that way, where it's like, I got one eighth of that …' Keery says he's wary of following trends or trying to pre-empt what people might like. The album could be seen, he says, as 'a real reinterpolation of the classics, or dad rock-y. It's not sleek pop music or cool indie music, either. It kind of lives in this grey space of like … sort of happy, sort of cheesy. But I'm also sort of cheesy.' Being earnest can be synonymous with being uncool, but, says Keery, he thought: 'Fuck that. I do not care. If it's like: this sounds too much like this band to you, well, you know what? Listen to every other band that sounds like every other band. These are my influences.' Criticism is a tricky subject between artists and journalists at the best of times. For writers, it often feels like a question of free speech and integrity. For artists, though, harsh reviews can obviously sting. Has he read, for example, the 5.9-rated Pitchfork review of the record, which calls it 'frictionless' and includes the line 'music you could imagine in a faux Urban Outfitters at Starcourt Mall [from Stranger Things]'. 'I read the headline enough to kind of get the idea,' says Keery. 'And, I mean, I understand it. You kind of can't really let it get you down, I guess, or affect what you're doing too much, to be honest with you.' He raises the same publication's review of Benson Boone's Coachella performance, which described the Beautiful Things singer as 'horrible, just godawful'. 'I read that and thought: 'My God, why would you do this to somebody?' You can not like stuff, but what's the real point? I guess you just can't let it sway you too much. You have to just keep following your creative instincts and doing what you find interesting.' With Stranger Things now out of his calendar for good, what do those creative instincts look like? 'No idea,' says Keery drily. 'I don't have an acting job, if anyone's hiring! But I am a little addicted now to being in the driver's seat. [Being a musician] is different to being an actor, where you're the violin player in an orchestra, and you're doing your part for this bigger thing.' Equally, there's a kind of freedom in being part of something larger than you, he says, and he would love to go back to his drama school roots and do some theatre. If he sounds a little undecided, he also acknowledges that it's good to have options. 'I've been incredibly lucky, so I do have a pretty heavy sense of impostor syndrome-slash-gratitude,' he says. 'It would be scary if that gratitude faded.' Again, this could all sound a little saccharine, but with Keery it feels genuine – a humble response to just how wild the past few years have been. I mean, he basically soundtracked the pope's inauguration! 'That was,' he says, fighting back his laughter, 'so ridiculous.' Djo plays Glastonbury festival on 29 June; The Crux is out now.