Category: food

Attention! Attention! All restauranteurs in the Chicago area, I WANT THIS SANDWICH! NOW!!!

Are you ready for a new semi-regular feature on Tasty Chicago? In this feature, I will highlight a regional food item from another part of the country that I want to get in Chicago, but can’t.

This is a grilled blackened grouper sandwich from Mulligan’s Beach House Bar and Grill in Jensen Beach, FL. It was $11.95, which included a two dollar grouper premium (grouper is a local fish probably pulled from the ocean that day). By golly was it good. Grouper is a hearty, meaty, yet mild fish that holds up well to grilling. It takes sauces and rubs very well and most Florida restaurants give you a choice of how you want it finished. Mulligan’s can just grill it, or they can do blackened, Jamaican jerked, or teriyaki. I like the blackened and I usually add some Tobasco, then wash it down with Guinness.

So why can’t I get this in Chicago? Can’t they flash-freeze some grouper and fly it up? Or better yet, can’t you just pull something out of Lake Michigan and slap it delicately on the grill. There has to be some marine life in that lake worthy of a sandwich, otherwise, what’s point of living near a lake. I beg you people, my loyal readers (all 10 of you), help me. Tell me if there is anything comparable in Chicago and where I can get it. Please. Please.

My favorite section in Newsweek is My Turn, and stories like this one entitled Eat, Drink, Man, Woman (and Child) make me happy to be a subscriber. Hmmm, I guess I’m just clogging up landfills because I could read it online…I have to get that part of my life under control.

Read the story, please. It’s about a vegan woman named Jenny Andrews who has an omnivorous husband named Ken. She says that even though their eating habits are distinctly different, “food is a source of pleasure for us, not conflict.” This is because they both respect what they eat and she realizes that respect for food is not limited to vegans. Jenny says, “Ken sees a chicken as a bird, not a disembodied nugget. He gives thanks for each animal he eats, and savors every last part of it, sometimes stopping midmeal to reseason a dish.”

Ken is a role model. I need to be more like Ken. I don’t want Tasty Chicago to be about consumption of food. I want Tasty Chicago to be about respect for food. Food doesn’t have to be expensive or complicated to be respected. It has to satisfy your body’s need for energy and taste good. If a food item does that, it’s worthy of discussion. It’s worthy of deliberation. And it may even be worthy of fantasy.

Does an occasional trip to McD’s belie a fundamental lack of respect for food as Jenny subtly notes with her “disembodied nugget” comment? I hope not, because I patronize McDonald’s yet I think I respect food. I clean my plate. I don’t order huge portions. If I have to take food home, I eat the leftovers the next day or shortly thereafter. I savor every bite whether it’s a greasy burger from a diner or a delicate grilled fish prepared by my wife. I don’t snack much and I consume most of my meals sitting down. But I need to make strides in this area because at times, along with many Americans, I walk that thin line that separates someone who respects food from someone who has a food dysfunction.

This article has raised my consciousness about this issue of respect for food and it’s something that I’m going to revisit throughout 2007. Stop back, or let me know what you think.

If you haven’t been to an Argentinian steakhouse, drop everything right now and find one. I’m not kidding, just do it. If you decide to go to Tango Sur, at 3763 N. Southport, you can’t go wrong. Although, you’ll be able to pick everything you dropped right back up because you’ll have at least an hour wait if you arrive anytime after of 6:00.

Pictured is the Bife Vesuvio, a special for our visit on a busy March Saturday. My wife and I met another couple here for some beef and pleasant conversation. This entree was $21, but don’t let that $20 plus entree scare you off because it was a bargain of epic proportions. My wife ordered this and I had El Fillet. The portions were so massive that we could have shared one. We took half of each home (yes, El Fillet on toasted sourdough the next day was awesome). I took a picture of hers because it was more photogenic, although they were both worthy of consideration for the beef hall of fame.

The value here is untouchable. The prices are unreasonably low for the portion size and each entree comes with bread, salad, and a starchy side. It’s BYOB and the corkage charge is negligible or zero, so you don’t blow big dollars on alcohol. And everything tastes great. That’s probably why it’s so busy all of the time. I’m talking really busy; you have to wait in line just to wait in line. I stood in line for ten minutes to find out that a table for four was a two hour wait. A young woman took my name at 6:27 and wrote down my mobile phone number. We ran and grabbed our friends and then went and had a few beers at Take Five (about four doors south). At about 8:20 they called and said the table was ready so we walked over and were seated at 8:30 on the nose. Easiest two hour wait ever in the history of America!

Back to the food in the picture, I’m not exactly sure what cut of beef this was and I’m not sure what kind of cheese they stuffed it with (I think provolone). I do know that it was filled with spinach and some standard vesuvio spices like oregano and garlic. It was marinated in a bunch of spices and sauces and, of course, it came with a side of chimichurri. It was a relatively lean and tender piece of beef with explosive flavor.

All the meat here definitely has some spice in it. I never trust those meat-eaters that say “I don’t like sauces and spices on my meat because a well-cooked piece of beef has enough flavor.” SHUT UP! A comment like that has food-snob written all over it. I challenge any carnivore to look Bife Vesuvio in the eye and say “hold the vesuvio spices because it covers up the natural flavor of the beef.” That’s idiotic! As Mike Greenberg would say, “It is what it is.” This is not an American steakhouse and it’s not a Brazilian steakhouse. It’s an Argentinian steakhouse, and it’s a glorious food experience.

This is the kind of place that I could frequent daily for the rest of my life and never get tired of it. I could tell as soon as I stepped foot in the small storefront at 1406 W. Belmont in Chicago that it was my kind of place. It’s small. It serves pizza, appetizers, gelato, coffee, and espresso drinks. It’s comfortable and the owners are extremely gracious. What more could you ask for? Oh yeah, the pizza rocks!

Pictured above is the Pizze Margherita, and we added the prosciutto. It was $12. I can never get thin-crust pizza done right at home, I guess maybe an oven that costs about $100,000 would help (I have no idea how much they paid for it). The key is to get the crust done uniformly throughout all 360 degrees of pizza, no matter how thick it is or how much stuff is piled on top. They got it right here.

My wife and I went early on a weeknight so there were not many people there. It seems like the husband works the kitchen and the wife runs the front of the house. They appear to have some Italian roots because when the wife said mozzarella, it sounded like she just stepped off some piazza in Rome. She’s just standing there explaining the menu to us without a hint of any accent, then the word mozzarella comes up and she turns into Monica freakin’ Bellucci. It was cool. After the meal we talked with her about the restaurant, about the bench from a church that lines one of the walls, and what it was like when someone from Metromix came in to try the place.

I am getting more adventurous with the pizza the next time I go, because I will be back.

As I said, my wife outsourced dessert to one of our guests, my cousin Amy. What a great call, it’s not often that one of the top pasty chefs on the North Shore decides to whip up a gem like this.

Let me tell you, if someone asks me to bring dessert, I stop at Dominick’s and grab some Chunky Chips Ahoy!, some Duncan Hines vanilla frosting, and cross my fingers that the hosts have a clean butter knife in the house.

The last thing I expected, in the dead of winter nonetheless, was homemade chocolate covered strawberries, homemade chocolate-topped mini cream puffs, and homemade chocolate peanut covered bananas. To top it off, it was all served in a heart-shaped dish just to show some love. We partook in this third sitting in the family room again, where it all started. It was a great finish to a splendid meal.

Let’s review. This Formula 1 meal took slightly over three hours, had two chefs, three separate seatings in two rooms, and nobody fought. How great is that?

So, this is where Gail really shines. Let’s call it the second sitting, which takes place at an actual table. The main dish was a chicken breast stuffed with goat cheese, prosciutto, and roasted red pepper topped with a marsala wine sauce with mushrooms. The sides were green beans and a fennel risotto cake. The muffin was a store bought job from Trader Joe’s but she popped it in the oven just the right amount of time so it tasted homemade.

I had a glass of red wine with it and things were all good, if you know what I mean. The crack staff here at Tasty Chicago really likes goat cheese and fennel, so this went over well.

Usually, when things get complicated like this, her time is monopolized with cooking. This wasn’t a 30 minute meal Rachael, trust me. But she was able to prepare it enough ahead of time so that she could actually interact with us common folk. I’m not sure how she did it because we are talking delicate sauces, a complicated risotto side dish, and a vegetable. Whatever, I bow to you honey.

It could have been that she felt no dessert anxiety. She actually suggested to our guests that they could “bring dessert if they wanted to,” so she did not have that hanging over head. It turned out to be a great decision so come back soon to hear about it.

My wife, well, she has a split food personality. In order to explain the multiple cooking personalities that my wife often displays, I’ll need to break out some sports metaphors – auto racing, in fact. I hope she doesn’t think I mean that she has a disorder, like a multiple personality disorder. And why use sports metaphors? Who cares…an artist uses the best tool available to explain the world! Sorry about that digression into self doubt. When I italicize stuff that means I’m talking to myself.

Let me state clearly that she is a good cook and by invoking references to auto racing I’m only trying to explain differences in a few cooking styles that my wife appears to have mastered. I’m not evaluating whether a certain style of cooking is better or worse, because it’s all good.

So let’s put it this way. Gail loves cooking up a NASCAR meal, like the ribs and mac and cheese last month. The NASCAR meal usually involves red meat and a side with a creamy starch, but I swear, it never involves a fat guy named Jimmy. Veggies and fruits are not very prevalent and the meal is usually served on one plate and consumed rather quickly. That is not to say it doesn’t take time to prepare, it’s just that the actual consuming of the meal is often done in front of the TV or from the back of a truck, making a one-plater a smart idea. God she’s smart, if I had half her brain I would probably be president, or at least an alderman.

But the meal pictured above is the start of something that is all Formula 1 baby. The F1 meal takes hours and is an event in and of itself. That’s why it’s going to take three posts to get through this meal because it’s as diverse as the countries and courses that F1 races on. It will include three distinct sittings and a guest pastry chef. The meal is more of the focus when in F1 mode and I think Gail enjoys it a little more.

So that tasty platter pictured above is the appetizer…or do you say hors d’oeuvres…or maybe antipasti platter? Let’s call it the first sitting. Starting in the upper left and going clockwise, we have Wolfie’s traditional coated nuts, homemade roasted red pepper in olive oil and balsamic vinegar, red grapes, shelled pistachio nuts, triple cream brie, and prosciutto ham.

She serves it up on a slate platter with a basket full of crusty bread. It was shared by four people and we knocked the whole thing off in about an hour. This first sitting is usually in the family room and it just kind of eases you into the meal. Nobody gets that full and its very casual and relaxed. I rarely attack this food with the same vigor that I attack the main dish with because it’s a community plate and I don’t want anyone to feel like they might lose a limb if we are competing for the last pistachio or something.

My favorite food combination in this situation is to take a piece of bread, spread a generous portion of brie on it, layer on a roasted red pepper, and then top it with a slice of prosciutto. It makes a very, tasty, mini, open-faced sandwich. I will toss down a few nuts, grapes, and pistachios separately just to get primed for the main dish. I love putting my feet up on the coffee table, having a beer or a glass of wine, grabbing a little chow, and talking about the topics of the day. Damn, I wish we could just talk about golf or college football…maybe even toss in a little discussion on Britney’s latest adventures.

Stick around, we are only about one third done. Come back soon.

C’mon, let’s take this thing national baby! Are you with me? The whole country should have the benefit of a Pockets Pocket. You have to be a little more than discouraged that we let Potbelly Sandwich Works get out of town without us. So let’s not let this one pass us by. There are like ten of them in town so we aren’t going to be able to keep it a secret forever.

Pictured above is the Tuna Pocket ($6.99). Let’s talk about this stroke of food-prep genius. It all starts with a square, mini-loaf of bread. They have the loaves sitting around in an “almost ready” state and when you place your order, they pop it in the oven for like five minutes just to finish it off. It comes out hot, they toss it on a plate or in one of those styrofoam trays, they slice it almost all the way through, then stuff it with tons of good stuff. This one has tuna, lettuce, tomato, carrots, mushrooms, green peppers, and mozzarella. It’s basically health food too because they don’t put any mayo or dressing on, you just get that on the side (I always get lowfat Ranch).

Much like a burrito, you don’t want to see me eat one, so I always get it take-out to spare you the agony. What I do is cut it diagonally so that you have two triangular halves. I pick up one half with my left and grab a fork in the right hand. In one fluid movement, I dip the fork in the creamy dressing, scoop up a little more of the filling with the fork, spread that forkful on the bite-target on the Pocket in my left hand (a point about one inch square where I intend to take my next bite), then hurriedly launch my jaws at the bite-target as I pull the fork away. Trust me, it ain’t pretty. But it’s really good. Plus, there are whole-grains in that bread. Certainly it’s not 100% whole wheat, but I dare you to find a fast-food that is this fresh and wholesome. If so, tell me about it.

This is a shot of the Total Eclipse beer from Lunar Brewing in Villa Park (54 E. St. Charles). This place is a microbrew center of excellence. It’s like going to a microbrew all-star game. Somewhat akin to sitting in the seats at an Academy Awards of beer.

So I walk in. It’s in a nondescript building on a busy street. The bar side of the place is a dark, elongated room. I saunter up to the bar and have a seat because I was there before my friends showed up.

“What you gonna have?” says a burly, friendly bartender.

“Well, what you got?” I say, matching the bad English, just in case this turns out to be a bad English competition.

He slides one of those little plastic menu things over to me and says, “Those are the beers we have on tap.”

There’s about ten of them. I ask, “Are they all made here?”

He jerks a thumb towards the back of the place, “Yeah, makin’ more right now, back there.”

“Well, I like Guinness, so what do you have that’s comparable,” like anything could be comparable to the great Guinness, but I’m open-minded.

“Sure, I think you’ll like the Total Eclipse, but,” he pauses, ominously, “there’s only one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“After you drink it, Guinness will taste like sh&% for the rest of your life.”

Whoa, I was rocked back on my heels. Not so much by the comment, I’ve heard profanity before, but by the conviction with which this man made this statement. He looked me in the eyes and stated this as if it were just a simple fact. As if it were as unequivocal and believable as statements like “Jordan was the best ever” or “the Packers suck.” There was no arrogance or pretense, just a statement of what he believed to be the truth.

Lemme tell you, ’twas a great beer. I haven’t had a Guinness since, so I can’t verify the bartender’s proclamation. I’m not really worried that I’ll start hating Guinness, and I highly doubt that my next Guinness will taste any different from any other I’ve had in my life. But that brief moment after the comment, when I actually hesitated before ordering the beer, I had chills running down my spine from a mix of fear and excitement…chills that I haven’t felt since the last time I heard Ty Pennington say “MOVE THAT BUS!”

This is a slice of sausage pizza from Pizza Metro. I think I paid $2.85 for it. It’s a decent size, but not huge. It followed the pre-meal cappuccino that I talked about a few days ago. And right on its heels was a post-meal cappuccino. That, my friends, is known in my brain as the cappuccino-pizza-cappuccino combo (CPC combo).

First, the pizza. What they do here for the by-the-slice pizzas is have a few sheets of crust already half-made. Upon your order, they add the sauce, cheese, and other toppings and heat it up. It takes about eight minutes. I love the way they cut it into the six mini squares. I usually take about three bites for each square. It’s a joyous piece of pie. Quality ingredients all the way around with a tangy sauce.

Now, let’s talk about the post-meal or dessert cappuccino. If you recall, the pre-meal cappuccino went down unsweetened. Not so with this one, I use two solid spoonfuls of sugar (it’s kind of a small spoon). I stir it in nicely so that I have frothy, sweet, espresso flavored, warm shake-like drink. What a capper, no pun intended, to this Italian feast.

You’ll see more from this place because their menu is massive and I aim to try it all. My wife usually gets the minestrone. You should see how they make that. No pre-made vat of minestrone at this place. The break out a small skillet, pour in some stock, throw some veggies and beans in, then just heat it up right on the stove. Good stuff.

All in, my cappuccino-pizza-cappuccino combo meal was $7.85 before tip. Do you believe that? That’s living the high life my friend, living the damn high life I tell ya’!