To say that Chicago hasn't always been the dining mecca it is today would be understating the truth. During the corruption-fraught reign of the late and much memorialized Richard J. Daley, who ruled city hall from 1955 to 1976 and was the father of the city's current mayor, Chicago's restaurant scene was limited largely to coffee shops, steak houses, private clubs, and a few fancy French and Italian places. Today, by contrast, a variegated restaurant culture thrives in the city. This renaissance has generated its share of hype, but I saw little of that in evidence at Scylla, the restaurant, tucked into a brick town house, that a friend had suggested for dinner. True, the wordy menu descriptions aroused suspicion: the entree I ordered, for instance, was a grilled lamb sirloin with new-potato cake, artichoke jus, strawberry compote, and a caper vinaigrette. But when it arrived, my suspicion evaporated: all the elements were harmoniously realized, with no single ingredient overpowering the others.