John Steffen

The folks at Pequod’s Pizza, 2207 N. Clybourn, make a quality, distinctive pie in a cool atmosphere; especially now that they’ve finished the interior renovation. Above is a live shot of me reheating the pan pizza the day after ($9.95 for cheese, 10″, more than enough for my wife and I).

First, let’s talk about the “new” atmosphere at Pequod’s. I think about a year ago they gutted it and redid it. It was needed, because the drywall-laden place had a bad atmosphere despite the great pizza. Now there is more exposed brick than you can shake a stick at, additional flat screens, and a better bar. These changes move it about 2″ directly right on the C-P Matrix. Don’t worry, there is an update coming soon for the Matrix.

Second, let’s talk about the pizza. They use this term, caramelized cheese, to describe the blackening of the cheese on the pizza. You notice it a little on the edges of the pan pizza above, but even more so on the thin-crust pizza because the caramelization is spread throughout the pie. It adds some flavor and texture that is subtle; I really can’t describe it. The crust is buttery and the sauce is on the savory side. I think it’s in the Top 10 in Chicagoland for me. It’s great stuff.

Finally, I want to get to my reheating methodology. The best way to reheat pizza is on the stove top. I use a little real butter in the pan then just toss the pizza in and cover it. The bottom gets crispy (and buttery) and the cheese melts evenly as long as you cover it. Neither of which, by the way, happens in the microwave. The microwave is best for making instant coffee and heating soup…two staples, actually.

One of my favorite McDonald’s is in Oak Brook, right across from the world headquarters and within spittin’ distance of Hamburger University. It has everything; outdoor dining in the summer, free wifi, a coffee shop (McCafe), flat screens, a mezzanine, and tons of McD’s execs cutting deals and networking. It happens to be near one of my clients so I patronize it somewhat frequently. After all, McDonald’s is a Chicago restaurant and I’m all about “eating local.”

I call this the fast and friendly breakfast. It consists of an Egg McMuffin, some Premium Roast coffee, the Chicago Sun Times, and free wifi ($4.14). What else do you need? Let me answer that – NOTHING! Actually, something sweet would help, like a cinnamon role or apple dippers with caramel sauce…nah, don’t do it John…resist the urge.

I’m a firm believer that McD’s can be part of a healthy diet. Think about it please – the 400 calories I consumed between the Egg McMuffin and coffee with two creams and two sugars is a helluva lot better than the venti no foam caramel mocha latte with whip and an extra shot of peppermint flavor that many people have in the morning. By comparison, my fast and friendly breakfast has less calories, less sugar, probably comparable nutrition, a newspaper, and free wifi. Don’t know about you, but that spells SMART SHOPPER to me.

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?