Mission is noble, but service is not, at organic Crust

When Crust, the Midwest's first certified organic restaurant, opened last spring, the masses descended, many of them hipsters from the neighborhood.

Then the professionals -- and with-it moms and dads -- heard about it and thought it sounded kitschy-cool.

The tables filled, and the buzz it generated could all but be heard from miles away.

That's when chef-owner Michael Altenberg finally breathed a sigh of relief. He leapt through hoops for months to open the place while a sea of pizza joints opened their doors, issue-free. The reason? His is an organic establishment, which received certification from a USDA-accredited organization. That makes him the first to receive such status in the Midwest, and Crust among a mere handful of likeminded eateries in the country.

Already a vet, Altenberg (Bistro Campagne) knew he had to create a niche in order to thrive within an already pizza-saturated market, and he knew he wanted to go a health-minded route.

The reality is he didn't -- in any way, shape or form -- take the easy way out. For starters, the food he uses is certified because it's (often locally) grown with a respect for the environment and sustainability in mind. In order to create new dishes, recipes must be submitted for review by an independent inspector in order to retain organic certification, which is no easy feat given the seasonality of the restaurant.

Altenberg also has to make sure his deliveries aren't tainted. That means ensuring the truck was cleaned to prescribed standards and the products haven't co-mingled with anything nonorganic. Beyond that, 95 percent of Crust's ingredients must come from organic sources.

Phew. All of that makes the $10-$12 price tag for his individual-sized, wood-oven-fired pies a bit more understandable. Still, it's steep and a lot to ask from consumers.

Despite the granola connotation of being organic, there's nothing hippie-esque about dining in the two-room space. The tunes are lulling and indie-cool. The painted white brick walls give way to mod, molded red-orange chairs, vintage-inspired tables and exposed ductwork. Patio seating is located out front, and an enclosed courtyard in back offers a serious oasis.

The menu is concise, an understandable fact given the restaurant's focus. And, besides, a well-edited selection is always better than a menu that tries to be everything to all. It's broken down into salads, sandwiches and flatbreads. There isn't much in the way of desserts, but they come from the Bleeding Heart Bakery (the first and only USDA-certified organic retail bakery).

Our meal began with the mighty fine, deceptively simple brown derby salad. It arrived, in a large bowl, heaping with colorful, fresh-plucked greens tossed in a light pink Russian dressing. Swirling around the lettuces were mounds of shredded, roasted chicken, mild-mannered white cheddar, green, yellow, red and multicolored heirloom tomatoes, hunks of thick bacon, slivers of avocado and a quartered, hardboiled egg. It set the tone for our meal, namely because the flavors were not overtly pronounced. Ingredients were allowed to shine in their own right, and we find this decision wise.

The sun salad -- a blend of rainbow seaweed, greens, carrots and cucumbers in sweet miso-plum vinaigrette -- was crazy-fresh as well.

Flatbreads, of course, are the main draw, and they're different from what you'd expect. For starters, they're small and rather pita-like with bubbling, crunchy crust and a chewy consistency. Second, the toppings aren't over-the-top generous, a fact that might make you scratch your head, given the cost of the pies.

We couldn't pass on the day's special: a take on carbonara. The doughy, thin, blistered pie was slathered with béchamel and topped with slab bacon, pea shoots and peas. The crowning glory, a runny-centered egg on top, burst with gooey goodness all over the pizza when it was cut.

In contrast, the wild herb and cheese flatbread with Kalona Cooperative ricotta, provolone, havarti and mozzarella tasted faintly of roasted garlic and was far simpler, both visually and in the flavor department.

Don't get too attached to a particular dish here as they do change. Beyond what we tried, offerings ranged from the German-inspired flammkuchen with caramelized onions, béchamel, caraway seeds, slab bacon and cracked black pepper to a broccoli number with sweet corn, garlic scapes, béchamel and Kalona Creamery white cheddar.

There are options for fussy eaters such as the Basilico with melted tomatoes, béchamel, fresh-pulled mozzarella and basil, and an Italian sausage flatbread with provolone and tomatoes. You also can sample the El Greco with feta, artichokes, kalamata olives, red onions and tomatoes. Typically, you'll have about 10 to choose from.

The other part of the equation is the sandwiches. Four were available when we dined; unfortunately, we were less than impressed with the wood-roasted tallgrass beef with horseradish crème fraîche, tomato and sweet onion on poilâne bread. The meat was chewy, the sandwich plain. The rainbow of paper-thin veggie chips on the side, however, was nearly enough to salvage things.

We'd definitely skip that one next time and instead try the grilled cheese sandwich with tomato-basil soup, pulled pork with hoisin and Asian slaw on a brioche bun, or the Californian with fire-roasted chilies, muenster, tomato, avocado, artichoke and mayo on poilâne.

Desserts are mostly an afterthought here; they're limited to a few sweet selections. We tried the vegan chocolate cake and the carrot cake, both of which were appropriately moist, if a bit dull.

The beverage selection, on the other hand, is much more interesting.

Known for its organic Rain vodka infusions, you can sample selections like saccharine strawberry and sweet woodruff, light, refreshing cucumber and mint and vibrant Meyer lemon and lemongrass shaken or as part of an array of iced shots ($5-$15 for one to four varieties).

Cocktails range from a white nectarine caipirinha to a blackberry mint julep. Beers include caramel-y Lakefront Organic ESB and rich, black Victory Storm King. Rounding things out, wines are worldly and simply described.

Nonboozers won't feel left out: They can try the likes of organic Italian soda.

What we weren't too happy with here was the service. Things started off smoothly but went south when first our flatbread, then our leftovers, were placed on another table. When the server realized the dish was brought to the wrong table by a runner, he simply picked it up from the neighboring table, set it on ours and said, "Sorry, he's new."

This is more than a minor faux pas and should at least have resulted in a discount or replacement dish. Although we said nothing, our displeasure must have been obvious; from that point on our table was all but ignored. He spent more time chatting with a fellow server, who scooted around to her tables in (what we assume were ironic) cowboy boots.

We were never thanked when the check was brought -- or when we walked out the door after paying $80, including tip, for a meal that, frankly, was pizza.

In the end, there is a fair amount to like about Crust. It's certainly an experience dining here, especially when one knows what goes into procuring ingredients. Still, we felt everything should have run more efficiently and that the experience should have been more welcoming. Had that been the case, we might have been less apt to choke on the hefty price tag.

Crust

2056 W. Division St., Chicago, (773) 235-5511

Cuisine: Organic pizza

Setting: Hip, casual and modern

Price range: Salads $5 to $12; sandwiches $8 to $10; flatbreads $10 to $13; dessert $6

Hours: Noon to 10 p.m. Sunday through Wednesday; noon to midnight Thursday through Saturday; bar open later Friday and Saturday

Accepts: Major credit cards