The fish is fresh--and pricey--at C Chicago

"Have you ever used the iPad before?"

That's what some servers ask when they present the formidable wine list at C Chicago, a sweepingseafood spot from the folks behind Chicago Cut Steakhouse.

The question sounds condescending, but I suspect the hand-holding stems from an understanding ofthe mothership steak house, where the demographic skews more Luddite than it does at the averageRiver North ball pit.

For a restaurant with such an ungoogleable name (and an unfortunate resemblance to MarcusSamuelsson's failed seafood restaurant C House), it's certainly thronged with people willing to payextortionate prices for whole fish and refined platings from chef Bill Montagne, a recent graduate ofLettuce Entertain You's corporate kitchens and a former sous chef at New York's Le Bernardin. CChicago is selling the chef's connections with east-coast purveyors as its purported advantage overcompetitors. If you're judging solely on the display of iced fish, where servers will invite you toeyeball, prod, and perhaps name your very own, then the hype seems believable.

This mountain of fish positioned at the rear of the dining room is the philosophical center of thespace--the former Keefer's, erased from memory with a massive tropical fish tank to enjoy on yourway to restrooms and a giant shark mobile in the bar. White-linen-covered tables and emerald-greenchairs are situated in a wide-open dining room that's ideal for gawking at your fellows as if you'relooking for someone better to talk to at the yacht club. If you're exiled to the second-floor diningarea there won't be much people watching, but at least there's a giant flat-screen TV to distract youfrom your companions.

But it's the fish-market feature that proves to be C Chicago's most appealing aspect. There youinspect branzino, Dover sole, black bass, dorade royale, red snapper, and turbot priced by thepound. Look them in their empty eyes for telltale milkiness or blood--you'll find little, if any. Lean inand sniff for signs of ripeness, you'll smell nothing but the sea. Select your catch and it's off to thekitchen, where the fish is roasted. Then, on a gueridon, it's paraded into the dining room where, withall the solemnity of a priest at a baptism, your server will raise his tools and begin to methodicallymangle it like an organ thief.

The noble skill of filleting a fish tableside does not belong in the hands of novices. I've witnessedthree of these whole-fish dissections, and in each case a lack of confidence and a rush to deboneproduced shredded fillets and random scraps across the plate. The case of a magnificent turbot,baked in a salted dough crust, was particularly horrific; its firm, creamy flesh looked like it hadweathered a shark frenzy. This is a particularly cruel misadventure not just because the fish trulyare wonderful specimens, cooked lovingly in the kitchen and minimally sauced if at all, but becausethey're dearly priced. Nobody should mind paying well for excellent sea creatures, but runningbetween $40 and $55 a pound (market price may vary), these animals--and their eaters--deservemore respect. Please retrain the meatball surgeons.

Montagne's composed dishes--apps, soups, salads, and entrees--on the other hand, are tightlyexecuted. Many of them, like a tuna tartare topped with a fragile avocado roulade and purple wispsof seaweed, are simply beautiful, although there's little evidence of the kimchi furikake that'ssupposed to be on that plate. But there's nothing subdued about a serving of cauliflower pulsed to acouscouslike consistency, given richness and spice from Espelette-pepper-spiked yogurt, and topped

with a vibrant headdress of shaved asparagus, beet chips, lotus root, peas, and favas. Lengths oftender octopus tentacles and shaved fennel take a shower in a nice, tart sauce vierge, while acreamy crab bisque is poured over a construction of charred corn, piquillo peppers, and toastedbrioche doughnuts. Lovely, refined plating like this makes it easy to see what Montagne brings withhim from Le Bernardin.

But not all of the dishes are well thought-out. A scallop carpaccio, arrayed like a mandala of thinlycut opalescent coins, is gorgeous, but is overwhelmed by red pepper, Espelette, basil, and chives.Montagne is apparently fond of the Espelette pepper, which also colors a vibrant red basquaisesauce that's set off by squirts of a squid-ink vinaigrette; both serve as the background for analabaster-white (over-) baked cod fillet.

For dessert there's a perfectly terrible-looking neon-green key lime bombe, rolled in what appear tobe corn flakes and filled with creamy, tart goodness. Get it. Otherwise an icy chocolate vacherin, atiramisu in a rocks glass, and a forgettable pineapple financier round out a fairly unremarkablequartet of desserts.

Now, about that wine list: it's fun to play with (if you know how), with 200-some choices, searchableby region, varietal, vintage, name, and whether they're available by the glass, few of which arebudget friendly. There are some--say, a $33 2013 Chateau Grand Traverse Riesling or a Tami Nerod'Avola at $46--but a great many blow past the $100 mark, topping out at $1,500 for a 2011 HarlanEstate cab.

All of which goes to show that C Chicago is built for whales, or at least people who aren't distracted

by prices that remind the rest of us how increasingly precious fish is. It's perhaps not a bad value forfolks who don't mind eating $14 deviled eggs topped with trout roe while Atlantis is sinking. v

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