Welcome To Asgard-Valhalla-Chicago, IL

This meal wasn’t just dinner—it was a celebration of connection, craft, and storytelling. Every element, from the food to the service to the ambiance, was genuine

Valhalla - 2020 W Division St, Chicago, IL 60622

Let’s kick this off with a song: Shine by Aswad. Why? Because Ooooh Aaaah that’s exactly what Valhalla did—it shined down on me long before I stepped into its halls. Ladies and gentlemen, this is how it’s done.

Let me set the scene: I’m used to the standard 24-hour reminder texts from restaurants—“press 1 to confirm, press 2 to cancel.” Useful, sure, but entirely impersonal. Then, out of nowhere, I get a text from Jelena Prodan, the Sommelier and Beverage Director at Valhalla. Not a formality, but a heads-up about a street festival that might make parking tricky. A small gesture? Maybe. But its impact was massive. I wasn’t even there yet, and their hospitality had already begun. That’s a power move. Excitement? Activated. On the drive over, we blasted song one: Valhalla Calling by Miracle of Sound feat. Peyton Parrish to set the mood.

Valhalla would be my first encounter with the culinary genius of Steven Gillanders, whose other restaurants, Apolonia and S.K.Y., are now firmly on my to-do list.

From the outside, Valhalla was unassuming—an ordinary building you could easily miss if not for the modest sign. But stepping inside? Whoa. Forget the basic makeover scene from She’s All That. This was a full character arc transformation of Zuko-in-ATLA-or-Walter-White-in-Breaking-Bad proportions. The hustle and noise of the street festival faded, replaced by a swanky, decadent interior that felt ready to celebrate me.

Our Heimdall-esque server, LaDarian, was superb—always watching, anticipating needs I didn’t know I had. My cup was never empty, and the pacing of the meal was perfect. Each course arrived with enough time to savor, reflect, and close the chapter before the next story began.

Now, let’s talk about Steven Gillanders. Most chefs lean toward being either talent-forward or technique-driven. Gillanders? He transcends all that. The only word for what he does is magic.

Every dish is a masterclass in balance, where advanced technique and playful creativity intertwine like an ouroboros.

We didn’t notice him in the shadows until course four, where he was quietly perfecting the Water-Aged Fish with binchotan aburi and yuzu sake broth. He stood there like Yggdrasil signaling to Jelena, LaDarian and the rest of the team periodically, connecting every element of the meal: food, drink, ambiance, playlist, and thoughtful service. Each plate felt alive, flavors dancing and celebrating together under his watchful, wisdom-infused eye.

I won’t spoil every dish—because you need to experience it for yourself—but here are three that left me speechless:

The Surf: A three-part shellfish tasting that redefined expectations.

The Ceviche—shrimp, avo pearls, Hokkaido scallops, and a spicy tapioca in elderflower aguachile—was as poetic as LaDarian’s description.

The Martini—inspired by a Gibson martini—paired an oyster with a gin-forward twist. I’ll admit, I stopped listening to the details because I couldn’t wait to dive in.

The Curry—shimeji mushrooms and aji chili oil—was so good, I practically willed LaDarian to stop talking so I could devour it. Each bite surpassed the last, no matter the order.Cue the next song : Thought I’d Died and Gone to Heaven by Bryan Adams.

Grilled Maitake Mushroom Kebab: Confited in beef fat, grilled over coals, and served with boursin and Fresno pepper emulsion. Crispy, crunchy, and creamy—this mushroom was an A5 steak’s binary twin. It reminded me of great teachers and uplifting friends, people who see hidden potential and bring out the best in you. Gillanders and his team did exactly that with this humble fungus.

Asin Tibuok: Rare salt baked in coconut husks by a single family in the Philippines, shaved tableside over our dish. The story behind it was as rich as the flavor. (Back-alley deals? Secret connections? The mystery added to the magic.)

It’s rare when a dish’s backstory lingers as strongly as its taste, but this one nailed it.

This meal wasn’t just dinner—it was a celebration of connection, craft, and storytelling. Every element, from the food to the service to the ambiance, was genuine. Gillanders is a master, and I have no doubt his legacy will be legendary, à la Izard.

Thank you, Valhalla, for showing us how it’s done. Shine on.