Next Wave Awards Restaurant of the Year: Creepies
Until rather recently, the term “bistro” seemed fossilized in amber made of Cognac-peppercorn sauce in the collective American consciousness. A wave of globally tinged neo-bistros have lately breathed much needed life into the category. In New York Bistrot Ha delivered Vietnamese French seasoned with Maggi and Josephine in Los Angeles mingled Italian and French with a fat pinch of rock ‘n’ roll. Meanwhile, in Chicago, a whimsical, year-old bistro with a Midwest-nice streak named Creepies is turning heads and piling up critical acclaim. And it seems they’re only just getting started.
“I think we started out a little more classic French with fun takes on things, and now we’re kind of finding our own voice and seeing what’s important to us and what we think is delicious,” says David Posey, Creepies chef and co-owner with his wife, chef Anna Posey. “People appreciating our vision has been very fulfilling. So for us, it’s like, let’s try to push things a little more and see how far we can take it.”
Credit: Vlad Levine
At this small, busily appointed West Loop spot under the direction of chef de cuisine Tayler Ploshehanski, tuna niçoise takes up the form of cured tuna carpaccio with egg butter and potato chips and oeuf mayonnaise is cleverly tie-dyed orange and pale green (thanks, respectively, to espelette pepper and chives). Vermouth-forward Manhattans morph into afternoon sippers when seasoned with appley Cognac and peach liqueur, and the only California white a server might suggest is oxidative Verdelho (trust them).
These unexpected delights unfold beneath the watchful side eye of a series of mischievous cartoon faces by artist Jenny Volvovski, which peer out from the plates and the odd counter tile for a bit of impish good fun. For the Poseys, this project is deeply personal. (Even the name Creepies is inspired by an inside joke between David and Anna.)
The couple opened Creepies in August 2025. It sits one door west of their modern Danish fine-dining flagship, Elske, which turned 10 this year and has one Michelin star. The pedigreed chefs previously worked in such lauded, Michelin-starred kitchens as Grant Achatz’s Alinea and Paul Kahan’s Blackbird, which closed during the pandemic. Creepies has been on the Poseys’ minds almost as long as Elske has been around — a maximalist, come-as-you-are answer to ambitious, minimalist Elske. During their travels, they found themselves repeatedly darkening the doors of modern bistros in Copenhagen, London, New York, L.A. and San Francisco, which they thought Chicago sorely lacked.
Credit: Vlad Levine
“We always envisioned going highbrow first and opening something more casual second,” Posey says. “With Creepies we wanted it to still feel like us and our personality, but more the optimistic side of it: maximalist with design and a little more with the food.”
To achieve this, the Poseys recruited Boone Interiors for the design, which — unlike airy, soothing Elske — is confidently chockablock: black-and-white checkerboard floors, mottled pine wainscoting, a long row of counter seats tucked beneath a mirrored wall and shelves alternating ruffly curtains and eccentric tchotchkes. The ubiquitous cartoon “creepers” as David calls them, are inspired by the World War II cartoon Kilroy, a favorite of Anna’s grandmother.
The couple tapped their longtime employee Ploshehanski as CDC to execute the opening savory dishes that were mostly sprung from David’s mind, with Anna steering the inventive, textural desserts. Elske vets Emily Sher (wine director) and Monica Casillas-Rios (bar director) respectively architected the condensed wine and cocktail lists that lean bright, funky, and drinkable. Creepies’ cocktail program has since been taken over by Stephan Jurgovan, with Jon Lundquist overseeing wine.
“It’s trying to reenvision these French classics we really love,” Ploshehanski says, who’s lately leaning more into seasonality and sauceplay. “Staples are great, but those fun, interesting dishes are what help shape it and keep it more modern and inventive.”
Ploshehanski has an eye for surprise. Consider her take on Parisian gnocchi that’s already become an icon. Little pan-fried dumplings are dressed with gooey Swiss and sticky egg yolk, punctuated by salty ham and tangy bursts of mustard seed — all hidden beneath a lid made of a whisper-thin sheet of pastry, which fractures with the quick strike of a fork. A recent addition of skate wing is dressed in a lightened-up take on the buttery, fish stock-based French Dugléré, made with green tomatoes and butter seasoned with housemade elderflower vinegar.
Credit: Vlad Levine
The tight cocktail menu owes partly to the physical limitations of the space. Creepies doesn’t have a traditional bar, so servers make all the drinks — meaning they’re either batched or comprise two or three components that say a lot with a little. The excellent “Dirty” (implied: Martini) combines orange oil-infused vodka, aromatized wine, and brine. A gingery, lemony Mule sports a bitter Cynar base rather than vodka. Cognac and the bitter apéritif Byrrh conspire to make us big-shouldered, whiskey-loving Chicagoans almost reconsider the Manhattan.
“They’re easy for servers to execute, but maybe something people haven’t thought of or seen before,” David says, adding wryly: “Maybe a spirit-forward whiskey drink can be made with Calvados.”
The natural-leaning wine list packs harder-to-find gems that live in the light, fresh, and acidic realm that the team themselves love drinking. Rare old-vine Gamay from Auvergne is crunchy and vibrant; co-fermented Ugni Blanc and Carignan from Languedoc is soft, fruity and fresh — and, maybe surprisingly, not too wild. Like everything at Creepies, it’s a gentle upending of expectations, which starts from someplace personal.
Indeed, at a time of price sensitivity and complex-winespeak dread, Creepies has become the (nowadays) rare sort of restaurant where it’s commonplace to see glasses and bottles of wine gracing almost every table. In the true bistro spirit, there’s something here for every palate, from the familiar and easy-drinking to the esoteric, offered up conversationally, miles from pretense.
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