Minimally decorated bars always feel a bit lacking—like they've voided themselves of a drinking-hole-soul. But despite the fact that Tre's cherry-wood walls have barely been scuffed by a thumbtack, it has potential.

Intoxicated couples nestle into the leather booths and munch on standard pub grub, while people sip on drinks and nonchalantly watch a Cubs game on the big screens behind the bar. The somewhat random dance floor lures ladies taking cardio striptease class to make use of the support beam that spikes through the middle. An easy breeze blows through the large front windows; for a moment, the total absence of that "lived in" feel seems charming.

But, an instant passes and the mind wanders to how soon the framed black-and-white photos of the Cubs stadium will crack, or when the mirror panels behind the bar will get dirty enough to obscure a sober man's imperfections from him. And that good-looking bartender? How soon can we replace him with a beer-bellied old-timer telling tales of back when? For the time being, though, Tre remains like a blank page—waiting for someone to inscribe his or her drunken story on its walls.

Centerstage Reviewer: Maude Standish