Old School Palos Hills, Illinois

The chef

Mohd Mahd

Born in Jerusalem. Brought to the United States as an infant while his parents studied. Sent back to the Middle East at six. Returned to Chicago at twenty-three. Father of seven. He cooks every plate that leaves this kitchen.

The Chicago Reader introduced him as “the poet, philosopher, free thinker, food scientist, and chef” — a man offering “his own style of radical hospitality.” He would probably just say he cooks.

A lamb shoulder resting on saffron rice, scattered with almonds.
Marinated a day ahead, roasted five hours

The credentials

He studied the food
before he ever sold it.

Mohd Mahd holds an undergraduate degree in human nutrition and food science from the University of Jordan, and a graduate degree in food processing from the Illinois Institute of Technology in Chicago.

That training is not decoration on a wall. It is the reason the lamb is marinated a full day ahead and roasted for five hours rather than rushed; the reason he renders his own fats and grinds his own spices instead of buying blends; the reason he can tell you what heat does to a protein and why the neck gives way when the shoulder is still fighting.

A man who has spent years studying how food behaves does not need to hide anything in it.

I do not hire cooks at all. Every single bite my customers eat is actually seasoned by my hand, by me, and monitored and controlled by my boys.
Mohd Mahd

Six people work at Old School. Two of them are his sons, twenty-one and twenty-two. There is no head chef, no line, no sous. There is a man who arrives at nine in the morning — four during Ramadan — and does the work.

The dining room seats twenty-two. There are no servers. Tips are not accepted. If you try to leave one, it will be handed back.

Radical hospitality

A kitchen built around
a family, not a market.

I wanted a job that serves my family objectives. Having my own business means my wife could come and have a cup of coffee. I could teach my kids chemistry, biology and physics while cooking.
Mohd Mahd

Most restaurants are designed around throughput — how many covers, how fast, how thin the margin can be sliced. Old School was designed around a household. The seventy names on the morning list are not a customer database; they are people he expects to keep feeding for years, one of whom he has been feeding since 2017.

It is why the restaurant does no real advertising, why the menu will never be laminated, and why the kitchen cooks what it can cook properly, in the amount it can cook properly, and then stops.

It is also why he answers his reviews himself — all of them, by hand, in his own English, one guest at a time.

One evening, on the phone

He asked for a name.

A doctor called to place an order. When it was all settled, Mohd asked him his name — so he could write it on the order.

“Doctor Ismael.”

The caller

“I asked you about your name, not your profession.”

Mohd

He did not hesitate, and he was not afraid of losing the order. The doctor apologized, and humbled himself on the spot — and left the call more certain than before that his food was going to be cooked by a real man, and not by a businessman.

His replies, word for word

How he talks to
people who eat his food.

These are not written by a marketing company. They are what Mohd wrote back, under his guests’ reviews.

“We truly appreciate both your person and patronage, and you are always welcome.”
To Siraj · and to nearly everyone
“It’s our guests who compel us to serve our best.”
To Afnan, after a catering order
“This sure is one of the feedbacks that are so humbling, heart touching and rewarding .. yet add so much energy and dedication to us to keep us going.”
To Mustafa
“Such a testament drives us forward and adds meaning to our job.”
To Dean
“Please introduce yourself to us, so we can treat you to something new we made.”
To Raymond, a stranger at the time
“It was our pleasure to know you … it really was.”
To Dr. A

Honesty

The guarantee is not
a marketing line.

“If you need a knife to cut the meat, you’re getting the food for free.”

It is a testable claim about a physical property of the food, offered by a man with a graduate degree in food processing, and he honors it.

A table of Old School dishes seen from above.
Sent out the way he would serve it at home
★★★★★
“What he promises he fulfills. Bottom line — you don’t like it, he will say, ‘I’m sorry. Here’s your money back.’”
Sammy Daaboul · regular since 2017, to the Sun-Times
★★★★★
“They make their meat starting in the morning and sell off whatever they have, and if they run out they’re done.”
Raymond Moy · Google
★★★★★
“They weren’t really set up for dine-in customers, but my group were treated extremely well, like longtime friends.”
Kelly Mohan · Google
I truly believe in the old school of doing business.
Mohd Mahd · chef & owner

The name

You take pride in your production,
and you feel bad if you fail.

That sentence is where the restaurant got its name. There are few things more personal than food, he says, and this is personal. It is not business.

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