Crave Kitchen & Cocktails — Restaurant in Rockford Township

True fine dining in Rockford?!?! So close, yet so far. I wanted this place to be incredible. I believe in the dream of a mother-daughter team coming to make an impact. Crave has all the ingredients for something better than the status quo, with an impressive Chef de Cuisine, but sadly, it missed the mark. Maybe it didn’t help that we had just come from Chicago, where we spent $180 on an exceptional meal for two, only to be met by an average meal for the same price at Crave. A true test of fine dining comes when a 6-top orders complex dishes on a busy night. Unfortunately, Crave couldn’t deliver, even with their star mother-daughter duo in house.

Appetizers:

Beef Tartare: This was far below average. In an area that already meets raw meat with skepticism, you need a standout proposal to win over the crowd. Instead, we were met with decent-quality meat cut too thick to enjoy as tartare. The dressing was underwhelming, with no standout elements like capers, homemade mayonnaise, Dijon, or anything else. It was just raw meat, thickly cut, lightly dressed with mayo, and served with two pieces of barely-leavened “homemade focaccia.” Sad.

Focaccia: This was the star dish, described as "Angela's housemade sourdough focaccia." The pairing with whipped ricotta and honey was nice, though not remarkable. Unfortunately, the focaccia left much to be desired. Focaccia isn’t hard to make, but the quality comes from big bubbles and a yeast-fermented flavor. This wasn’t that. The bubbles were small, the leavening was weak, and while the bread had a decent fermented flavor, it didn’t live up to expectations. The technique was off, and there were only four small pieces of bread for a 2-3oz ball of whipped ricotta. That’s an imbalance between bread and dip, forcing you to ask for more at an additional charge.

Chardonnay Dijon Mussels: Outstanding. The broth was excellent, calling for bread to dip into. Unfortunately, every two slices of "Angela's housemade sourdough focaccia" cost $1, and it only comes with two slices. Be prepared to pay extra for enough bread to soak up that delicious broth. This is disappointing. It’s a good dish, but marred by the need to beg for bread.

Entrees:

Wagyu Burger: Outstanding flavor, great sides, and perfect brioche bun. One guest opted for truffle fries, and they were great. We ordered two burgers medium, but one was perfect, while the other was well-done. It could have been a solid choice for a less hectic Friday night.

Branzino: This is the fancy name for European seabass. It was disappointing to hear our server describe it as a halibut-like fish. Yes, it’s a white-flesh, firm-boned fish, but nothing like halibut. I reassured our guest it would be a nice seabass from the coasts of Spain or France—though I can’t be sure. What I am sure of is that it was overcooked—dry, flaky, and lacking redeemable qualities. Sides were dry. Just bad and sad. This perpetuates the stereotype that the Midwest can’t cook fish.

Prime Grade Ribeye Cap Steak and Filet: The sides were great—mashed potatoes and risotto. The steak was also great, cooked medium-rare as requested. A classic Food Service prime cut.

Overall: I called the owner, Angela, to share my feedback, and she met me with skepticism and offered to replace the dishes. I appreciated the offer, but it was 10 minutes after we received our food, and we were already halfway through our dishes. I declined. It was a little jarring that she pointed out my son's burger in front of everyone to "confirm" it was well-done instead of medium. It was indeed well-done. No comps, no apologies, no mention. Just forgettable. I wish you well, Crave. We will not be...

If you’re chasing a dining escapade where ambition trips over its own feet and the food flirts with meh in a way that’s almost avant-garde, Crave Kitchen in Rockford is your jam. It’s trying to flex as “fine dining” in a town that’s too chill for the charade, squatting in a strip mall so generic it could be a loading screen for The Sims. Our server was a gem, though—nervous as hell and hushed like she’s spilling secrets, but you can’t help but cheer for her grit. The bar’s got some sauce—if I’m drinking in Rockford, I might actually stumble in here. Past that? Portions so puny you’d think they’re on a diet, tables jammed together like a bad IKEA puzzle, and booths so cramped you’re basically spooning your neighbor. This place is peak “ladies’ lunch” energy, but even that feels like a stretch. The plates strut a bit fancier than the other “upscale” spot nearby, but it’s like bragging you’ve got the shiniest participation trophy.

The food, though? Strap in for the circus. Prawns overcooked into tire rubber—I tapped out when my jaw begged for mercy. Steak frites rolled up with a flat iron so chewy they should’ve gone hanger and called it a day; fries were passable, but cilantro on top? What’s the vendetta, chef? Duck confit eggrolls were a con—empty as a ghost town, duck tasting like it’s been loitering since last week, swimming in an aioli that’s just Hellmann’s with a superiority complex. It’s globbed on so thick you’re stuck wrestling its greasy, industrial heft—pure gut sabotage. Rock shrimp? Slimy, sad, and flung over what screams bagged salad vibes. Brick chicken was just… chicken. Like, why hype it up?

Dessert? Couldn’t be bothered. The whole gig was so mid it barely registered a pulse. Chains in town—yep, the ones you’d side-eye—run circles around this place. Bigger bites, better execution, and they don’t fleece you. Crave Kitchen’s not a sinking ship—it’s a strip-mall mirage, peddling overpriced, mid-tier munchies with no local soul or swagger to back it up. It’s not tragic, just aggressively average, daring you to...

From the moment we sat down, the experience at this restaurant was a mixed bag. The table was noticeably dirty, with multiple spots that should have been cleaned before seating. Worse, my first sip of water came with an unwelcome surprise—a strand of hair, which set a poor tone for the meal.

On a positive note, the interior design was stunning, creating a vibrant and inviting atmosphere. The drink I ordered was a highlight, perfectly crafted with a dried, fire-roasted lemon that added a unique and delightful flavor.

Unfortunately, the food was a letdown. The Duck Confit Egg Rolls ($18), filled with confit duck, red peppers, cabbage, and Korean aioli, were a disaster. The duck tasted like deep-fried, concentrated, soiled gamey wild animal—an overpowering flavor so bad it ruined my appetite, a rare occurrence for me. The Korean aioli was a bright spot, but it couldn’t salvage the dish.

The Brick Chicken ($29), a deboned half chicken with garlic mashed potatoes, spinach, and gremolata, was inconsistent. While the chicken had a great crust, the flavor profile fell flat. Half was overly fatty, the other half dry, and there was a faint hint of spoiled chicken that was hard to ignore. The garlic mashed potatoes were a saving grace, well-prepared and flavorful.

The Kale Berry Salad ($10 half, $17 full) was a standout. With blueberries, strawberries, crispy shallots, pistachios, toasted chickpeas, a Parmesan cloud, and blueberry lavender vinaigrette, it was fresh, balanced, and delicious—a true highlight of the meal.

Finally, the Truffle Fries ($16), seasoned with truffle salt, Parmesan cloud, and garlic aioli, were a disappointment. They were excessively salty and greasy, with no discernible truffle flavor. I’ve had far better truffle fries at Shake Shack.

Overall, while the ambiance and a few elements shone, the food quality and cleanliness issues made this a frustrating dining experience. I’d hesitate to return unless significant...