A New York Minute

Ratings Guide:
Half handshake, half chest-bump hug – 5 stars
Chest bump – 4 stars
Fist bump – 3 stars
High five – 2 stars
Handshake – 1 star
Manly ass slap – ½ star
Fone and fone – 0 stars



I was just in New York for work. Flew in on a Tuesday night and back home Wednesday evening, so only got to enjoy a couple of places. However, the trip capped off the most amazing famous-people-sighting week I’ve ever had. Or probably ever will have. In fact, my entire week felt like the “Celebs, They’re Just Like US” section of US Weekly.



Restaurant: Latitude
Location: 783 8th Ave, New York, NY

We were staying at the W in Times Square, so we were in tourist-trap central. Right across the street was the Olive Garden. Now, I joke a lot with friends about things that make me embarrassed to be an American. Songs like “My Humps” and “Fergilicious” and “This Is Why I’m Hot” reaching #1 on the charts (for several weeks at that). Movies like “Norbit” and “Evan Almighty” and “Fantastic Four” opening up #1 at the box office. Guys who eat hot dogs every day for a week and write a blog about it. Our President. Americans who travel to different countries and expect everyone to speak English. Everyone on a Disney Cruise. Stuff like that. Well, the Olive Garden in Times Square just got added to that list. The line was out the door and the wait had to be almost two hours long. I can’t even talk about it. I love all-you-can-eat breadsticks as much as the next guy, but you’re in New York. There are a million places to choose from, and somehow places like the Olive Garden and TGI Friday’s are packed. Who knows, maybe they’re all foreigners who want to experience something “American”. Either way I hate everything about it.

We asked the doorman where to go, stating that we wanted to go someplace where we wouldn’t see any tourists (which is probably impossible since we were in the heart of Times Square), and he suggested Latitude, which was only a block from the hotel. When I was in London years ago I asked the same question to the concierge there (a place for dinner that locals go), and he said “Hard Rock Café”. I almost punched him. The doorman at the W was much wiser and at least reco’d a place that we didn’t recognize as a tourist trap. When we got there the place was pretty much dead. About 6 people at the bar, and another couple of booths filled with people. As far as we could tell it was definitely not a tourist hot spot (but what the F do we know?). We started off with some hot wings, BBQ wings, and mini burgers. Well, when I say, “started off”, we ordered them as apps before we ordered dinner, but they were delivered at the exact same time as our entrées, so we didn’t really start with them. The table just ended up being like a bar-food version of tapas. Not a bad idea actually. For my meal I had ordered the Spedino. Which is a fried mozzarella sandwich. Which is actually just a fancy way of saying “large square mozzarella stick”. It was delicious. It was battered in white wine or something, and served with some sort of white wine sauce. It added this sweet, elegant taste to fried cheese. A nice combo, I thought. I really enjoyed it. It was a little small, but it was only $7, so you get what you pay for. The mini burgers were decent. Nothing special, but nice and filling, so that was a plus. The hot wings were hot. Real hot. Make-your-forehead-sweat hot. Mess-with-your-intestines-the-next-day hot. I liked them. They were a little dry, but it was late and I was drinking, so I didn’t mind. The BBQ wings were just OK. Nothing special about them, nothing horrible about them.

And that was it. Everyone liked their meal (I think Joe got the pulled pork and Chris got some other sandwich, and they both seemed to enjoy it). And I liked the laid-back atmosphere. You didn’t feel like you were a block away from Times Square. Fist bump.



Restaurant: Bread Tribeca
Location: 301 Church St., New York, NY

So here comes the US Weekly edition of Born To Fork. On Monday I ate at Cuatro with my wife and some friends. I wanted to go to Room 21, but we were afraid it was too expensive, and I love Cuatro, so we opted for that. But when we were done eating we walked down to Room 21 just to check it out. The place was empty on the inside, but the outdoor patio (which is amazing) was packed. I walk in the front door for a look around, and there are only two people in the place and they’re sitting at the bar having a drink. But they aren’t just “two people”. It’s Chris Tucker and Brett Ratner. And I don’t know what to do. Part of me wants to go up and say “hi”, but the other part of me doesn’t want to be that douche bag who walks up to celebs and makes a big scene. I’ve done this twice in my career, and both time I walked away feeling like an a-hole (it was to Ryne Sandberg and Mark Grace, who both were cordial, but also both had a hint of “please stop talking to me and let me enjoy myself” about them. And they’re not even big-time celebs, so I can only imagine what a big shot like Chris Tucker might do. But in Grace’s defense, he was trying to get laid at a bar in Milwaukee at the time and I was throwing some serious salt in his game.). I called my buddy Geoff, who in the past told me that his dream would be to have Chris Tucker narrate his life. I decided that I was going to get Geoff on the phone, then walk up to Chris and ask him to say “hi” to Geoff. But Geoff told me he might pass out if he talked to Chris Tucker, so I decided against it. And you know what? As much as I didn’t want to pull a d-bag 101 move, I was kicking myself the rest of the night for not saying something to them. I’ve got to imagine they’d be pretty cool guys. Oh, the other thing is that Chris Tucker doesn’t look nearly as fat in person as he does in the “Rush Hour 3” trailers.

Fast-forward to Wednesday. Following our meeting we headed across the street to Bread Tribeca. After we sat down and got a Peroni in our hands, I randomly was looking around the place. It was pretty empty, but then again, it was two in the afternoon. It’s one of those places that just feels like New York. Huge windows that look onto a street that’s constantly filled with people. I can’t really explain it, but you know how certain cities or places have a feeling? Well, to me, New York is a city that has a feeling. And this place was one of those places in New York where the whole experience just felt very New York. Follow? I didn’t think so. Anyway, I’m looking around a mostly empty restaurant and in the corner I see Anne Hathaway. That’s right, the star of “The Devil Wears Prada”, which I’ve seen about ten times in the past week thanks to HBO. After the whole Chris and Brett sighting I started to feel like Perez Hilton. I was tempted to walk up to her and say something like, “Your boobs looked amazing in Brokeback Mountain and Havoc” or “I LOVED you in First Daughter” just to see her reaction. Instead I just turned back around and enjoyed my lunch.

Speaking of, the food at Bread Tribeca was really good. I had the Mozzarella panini, tomato soup, and some mashed potatoes. The panini was pretty good. I liked the bread (which isn’t surprising since that’s the name of the place), and the sandwich was pretty simple – just mozzarella, tomato, and basil leaves. The basil leaves were pretty over-powering. If you like basil, you’d love this sandwich. But if you’re just so-so on basil (as I am), it is a bit distracting and takes away from the overall enjoyment of the sandwich. That being said, I enjoyed it anyway. The potatoes were really good as well. Perfectly creamy, and flavored only with some pepper. It really was a nice change of pace from most mashed potatoes, which try to do way too much in the way of seasoning or garlic or butter or chives or whatever. These felt like a better version of the kind that Mom used to make (actually, a slightly better version of my brother-in-law Kerry’s potatoes, which are extra creamy and extra delicious). But the big winner was the tomato soup, and I don’t even really like tomatoes. In fact, I think the only tomato soup that I have ever liked was a tomato and cheese soup we used to make back at Bruegger’s Bagels when I was working there in college. When this soup came out I was terrified. It was just as thick as the mashed potatoes. In fact, it wasn’t really soup; it was more like mashed tomatoes. But you know what (and you already know what, since I told you about five sentences ago)? It was delicious. I mean like I-couldn’t-put-my-spoon-down-and-could-have-eaten-three-more-bowls-of-it delicious. I don’t know what it was that made it so good. I’m not even 100% sure what else was in it, but whatever it was I liked it. Bread Tribeca gets a real solid chest bump. I want to give it a little more, but it is just a tad pricey. But then again it is gourmet and it is in New York and it does have Anne Hathaway’s blessing.

But the story isn’t over yet. After lunch we had a “limo” take us to the airport. It smelled like feet mixed with B.O. But like the feet and B.O. of an Eastern European athlete. And it just stuck with you. I smelled it the whole plane ride home. It was like that Seinfeld episode. Not good. After my flight got cancelled and I was moved from the four o’clock flight to the six o’clock flight, which was then delayed until seven, I decided to give up my seat altogether and get a free ticket out of it. The only catch was that with my new flight I had to fly through D.C. before heading back to Chicago. During my hour layover in the nation’s capitol, I needed to eat some dinner, so I went to Wendy’s, which was the only thing really available. As I’m waiting in line I turn around and see ANOTHER celebrity behind me in line (I use the term “celebrity” lightly here). It was the Pride of Providence. The runner up in the first season of The Contender. The one-and-only, Peter Manfredo Jr. He was actually a pretty nice guy. I talked to him for about 30 seconds before the guy behind him mauled him with questions and conversation. When I told my wife I saw him, she was kind of excited because she loved The Contender. She said, “Was he the guy with the jacked-up nose? I liked him.” Jacked-up is an understatement. I’ve never seen a nose so destroyed in my entire life. I’m amazed he can even still breath. The whole experience was a nice way to cap off my week.

Got a question? Send it to josh@borntofork.com.

Hackney's

Ratings Guide:
Half handshake, half chest-bump hug – 5 stars
Chest bump – 4 stars
Fist bump – 3 stars
High five – 2 stars
Handshake – 1 star
Manly ass slap – ½ star
Fone and fone – 0 stars



Restaurant: Hackney’s
Location: 733 S. Dearborn (and several locations in the ‘burbs)


Signs that it’s time to start questioning the direction your life is taking:

- Someone asks you if anyone has ever told you that you look like Ryan Seacrest.
- You’re 30, married, with a kid on the way, and you spend a Saturday night coming in dead last in a Flip Cup tourney.
- While watching the World Series of Pop Culture on VH1 you frantically yell at the TV when people don’t know the answers to questions like “How many times was Ferris Bueller sick?” and “’She was more like a beauty queen from a movie scene, I said I don’t mind, but what do you mean I am the one’ are the lyrics to what song?” Honestly, how have I not put together a team for that show?
- You own more shoes than your wife.
- Any time you come across “The Devil Wears Prada” on HBO you stop and watch it.
- You live in the third biggest city in America and in four years you still haven’t found a burger that you would go out of your way for. And it keeps you awake at night.
- You own two cats.
- You set a series recording for “Greek” on your DVR.
- You iron your jeans.
- You consider Seth from the “O.C.” one of the five greatest TV characters of all-time.
- You have a soul patch.
- You get kicked out of a 16” softball game and cause your team to forfeit because you called the umpire a (dirty word starting with an F and ending in –ing)(it’s sort of like another way to call a cat a kitten) because you were upset that he called someone “safe” who was clearly “out”. And yes, you’re 30.
- When someone asks you, “Would you rather have a good night of sex or take a good dump?” and you go with the dump (you know who you are).
- You eat half a pack of Icebreakers Sours and your tongue goes numb and eventually scabs over and peels.
- You drink flavored beer.
- You agree to try and eat 15 asparagus in three minutes for ten bucks. And you only get through 10.
- You go out of your way to walk into a theater full of Star Wars geeks right as Obi-Wan is standing over Anakin just so you can yell at the screen and call Obi a (another way to call a cat a kitten) for not killing Anakin when he had the chance and giving the Dark Side a chance to rebuild. Then walking out of the theater as all of the geeks try and use the force to melt your face.
- You get calf implants.


Guess what? I actually found a burger in Chicago that I like enough that I think about it all the time and would go out of my way for it. I’m finally sleeping through the night. Things are really starting to turn around for me.

I headed to the Hackney’s in the South Loop not too long ago for some lunch. It was a perfect day so we (Sarah, Jenn and I) got to sit outside. It was Friday, so it also doubled as one of those “it’s nice out, we don’t have a lot going on, so let’s take a two or three hour lunch, enjoy some beer, and then enjoy some more beer” kind of lunches.

I started off with a cider beer. Unfortunately they didn’t have any tiny umbrellas to put in it, so it took away from the experience a little bit, but I was able to save just a little bit of dignity. We also ordered the guacamole. Now, I love guacamole (did you know that avocados are a fruit? And so are tomatoes? I had no idea. And yes, I write about food, so those are things I should have known.), but I was skeptical about ordering it at a place other than a Mexican restaurant. But the waitress insisted that it was really good, so we went with it. And she was right. It was really good. And it was a huge bowl. We didn’t even get around to finishing it. Of course part of that reason was because it was baking in the sun, so after about seven minutes everyone was afraid to try it because it was warm and we thought it might be rotten. And I’m not even sure that guacamole is something that can go bad, because there’s no mayo or anything. Again, something I should probably know. Either way, it was really good. I’d get it again.

But I’m just delaying getting to the good stuff. The burger. My buddy Steve (or should it be Stephe, since his full name is Stephen with a “ph”?) told me to check it out. We’ve had the burger discussion before, and he said this was the one place he had found in Chicago that was worth talking about (he’s from St. Louis, and as I’ve said before (and as my friend Denny has said before that), there are a ton of great burger joints there, but just doesn’t seem to be the same amount of go-out-of-your-way burger joints here). So a long Friday lunch seemed like the right time to check it out.

I got the Inside-Out Burger. It was filled with cheddar cheese and bacon. I don’t really need to say anything else about it after that, do I? It was served on a dark-rye bun. I love rye bread. So many times with burgers you end up with some bun that ruins the burger. There’s the bun that’s so big it dwarfs the burger and you don’t even get to taste the meat. And then there’s the bun that may or may not be stale, but either way crumbles the entire time you eat it. You’ve got the buns with so much going on (either some sort of flavor or cheese on top or baked in or whatever) that you don’t even notice the burger (which means the burger also doesn’t have enough goodness to compensate). Of course my least favorite might be the bun that is about as durable as a Yugo and soaks up the burger juice and then quickly falls apart, so you end up having to eat the patty on its own. It can be maddening. But the dark-rye bun was perfect. It added it’s own element without taking away from burger. It was big, but the burger was big enough that they balanced each other out nicely. And it was the perfect texture – not too soft, not too hard, soaking up some juice without disintegrating. Just a great bun.

Now, with a bun this good, how could the burger itself possibly disappoint? It couldn’t. This thing was a great big patty, cooked to perfect medium-rareness, allowing the cheese to melt on the inside so it just oozed out with every bite. And it was filled with cheese and bacon. The burger had a great flavor and was nice and juicy. With every bite you got excited for the next bite. Plus it was filled with cheese and bacon. It was almost perfect. I think the only thing in the world that could have made it any better was Boursin cheese in place of the cheddar cheese. I really thought about ordering a second one. My only complaint is that Hackney’s isn’t located across from my office. It’s either a 15-minute walk there, or I can jump on the Red Line and get off at Harrison and walk over. Either way it’s not possible to go there and eat without having a good hour and fifteen minutes to spare. That’s actually probably for the best, or I might eat here every day. Oh, and the fries were really good as well.

The other reason I ended up not ordering a second burger was because of the dessert. Hackney’s has a skillet cookie on the menu. For those of you who don’t know what that is (and we’re no longer friends if you don’t) it’s a chocolate chip cookie baked in a giant skillet, then topped with ice cream. It’s even served in the skillet to make sure the cookie stays nice and hot. We ordered the skillet cookie, and the waitress told us it would take about 15 minutes. Since we weren’t in a hurry to get back to the office, and we were enjoying some cold brews, we decided to get it. 15 minutes later we were still waiting. 20 minutes later, still waiting. 25 minutes later, still waiting. It was finally served 30 minutes later, which is kind of ridiculous, even if we weren’t in a hurry. Lucky for them it was worth the wait. The cookie was nice and warm, but still soft and gooey. And the ice cream was pretty good as well. I’d say it’s the third best skillet cookie I’ve ever had. The best is at Dunlay’s on the Square. The second was at Alexander’s Steak House in Columbia, MO (which I don’t think even exists anymore). Here’s a funny (depending on your definition of funny) story about the skillet cookie at Alexander’s. When I was in college my friend Adam went there for his birthday with my buddy Mike. I had to work or something, so I was going to just meet them there. I grabbed a quick dinner at McDonald’s on my way, which consisted of two Big Macs, two large fries, and a large Coke. And a cheeseburger. Needless to say, it was a lot. But when I got to Alexander’s they were still eating, so I decided to get a Black and Tan and order dessert, which was the skillet cookie. By the time I was done I was so full I thought I was going to pass out. After dinner we headed back to my place to grab a drink before heading to Columbia’s finest gentlemen’s club. Of course all I had was a bottle of Captain Morgan’s and a bottle of Popov Vodka. I did a shot of the Popov’s. Well, I tried to do a shot of it. The moment the paint thinner touched my tongue I ended up puking in the sink (thank god I was standing in front of it). So, for future reference, don’t order a skillet cookie after eating 4,000 calories at McDonald’s if you plan on doing shots of Popov later. It won’t end well.

So there you have it. The Hackneyburger is the first must-have burger I’ve found in the city. Hopefully I’ll find more, but for now this one will do. Half handshake, half chest-bump hug.



Got a question? Send it to josh@borntofork.com.

Taste of Chicago

Ratings Guide:
Half handshake, half chest-bump hug – 5 stars
Chest bump – 4 stars
Fist bump – 3 stars
High five – 2 stars
Handshake – 1 star
Manly ass slap – ½ star
Fone and fone – 0 stars



Restaurant: Taste of Chicago
Location: Grant Park


I don’t understand why people hate the Taste of Chicago. People go as far as calling it the Waste of Chicago. Why? Don’t they realize the true genius of it? Here’s what to love about it:

- Tons and tons and tons of food. It’s like the world’s biggest buffet (also the world’s most crowded and most expensive). Where else can you get a giant turkey leg and pad Thai and Italian ice and perogi’s and cheese fries and ribs and a pickle on a stick all in the same place?
- The people. Everyone thinks this is a negative, but I think they’re missing the point. Where they see an annoying crowd of white-trash hoosiers, I see a crowd of endless laughs. If you can’t laugh at a guy wearing jorts (jean shorts), sunglasses with a strap, a tank top that says “Keep On Suckin’”, and socks with sandals, then who can you laugh at? It’s like an endless sea of enjoyment at someone else’s expense.
- Did I mention the huge selection of food?
- And the people watching?

That doesn’t sound like fun?

If you’ve never been, here’s what you can expect:

- Mullets, and plenty of them.
- Mustaches.
- Jorts. Fine for women, especially if they are of the Daisy Duke variety. Unacceptable for men, especially if they are of the carpenter variety.
- Tank tops.
- Fanny packs.
- Sweaty bodies.
- A heart attack or diabetic attack or both.
- A crowd that’s almost impossible to walk through and even harder to eat while you’re trying to walk through it. If you don’t drop grease or BBQ sauce on yourself, someone will do it for you.
- To pay more for food than you ever have in your life. Tickets this year were $7 for 11. 11 tickets don’t go very far. I bought 33 tickets and still didn’t have enough, and I didn’t even get anything to drink.

And since I’ve already made two lists, why not go for the trifecta? Here are my tips for properly enjoying the Taste:

- Wear proper attire. This means either a tank top or a button down shirt open all the way to show off your gut or no shirt at all (ideally with a well-developed farmer’s tan). If someone isn’t telling you to put a shirt on, then you aren’t trying hard enough. Also, Jorts are a plus, but nothing tops a good pair of Zubaz. And I highly recommend a pair of this season’s must have accessory – Blue Blockers.
- Try not to order things that you can get whenever you want. Like a Chicago-style hot dog. Why use 6 tickets for one when you can go to any street corner and pick one up? Or pizza. Come on, you can get pizza anytime. Try to branch out as much as possible.
- Keep to the “taste” portions. They’ll only cost you 3 tickets and you’ll get to sample a ton of things. It’s like tapas, but you don’t have to share with anyone.
- The best time to go is lunchtime during the week. The crowds are at their smallest and most tolerable.
- Never go to the ticket booth at the entrance. The lines are way too long. Head to any of the booths within the rest of the Taste and there’ll be no line at all.

So, the day after the 4th I grabbed a couple of co-workers (Kasey and Sarah) and headed to the Taste for lunch wearing a tank top and Blue Blockers (last year I went shirtless, and lost a lot of friends at work over it). On the way there we got a little taste of what the Taste is all about – a guy wearing a “I’m not a gynecologist…but I’ll take a look” shirt. Good stuff. Only at the Taste. Or on a plane to/from Cancun.

The first stop was the ticket booth. Of course I immediately broke one of my rules and went to the ticket booth at the entrance. It took us about ten minutes to get tickets. And about one minute for me to lose my patience.

Once we got our tickets in hand we cruised around as best we could, but the crowd was larger than expected, so we did meet some resistance.

We stopped at Bella Luna Café, where I happily parted with 3 tickets for a taste of the Pizza Bites. They were basically fried ravioli stuffed with cheese and sausage and they were delicious. I’ve never been to Bella Luna Café, but this tasty treat would make me think about it. Chest bump.

Next up was what I consider a pillar of the Taste of Chicago – the giant Turkey Leg. It kind of encompasses what the Taste is all about. Greasy food covered in some kind of sauce (in this case a BBQ sauce) that you eat with your hands. Just a mammoth piece of meat. Helen’s usually delivers, but this year I found the leg pretty dry, and the meat didn’t fall off the bone like it usually does. And at 10 tickets it’s a pretty steep cost to be let down. That is why you stick to the tasting portions. It’s with a heavy heart that I give it a high five with a manly ass slap.

To recover from the disappointment at Helen’s, I stopped by Kasia’s Deli to indulge myself on some of my native food, the pierogi. I wised up and went with a taste-size of the potato pierogi (smothered in sour cream, of course). Kasia’s makes a mean pierogi (but not as mean as my Grandma Sophie) and I almost had to head back for round two. Luckily, I got distracted by the Chicago Chocolate Company. The pierogis get a chest bump with a manly ass slap.

I’ve been to Chicago Chocolate Co. before, and both times there my thoughts were the same – I really enjoy it, but it’s way too expensive for what it is. In contrast, you pay an arm and a leg for some truffles at Coco Rouge, but I feel like they are worth the money over there. Chicago Chocolate Co. has good chocolate, but not good enough to charge boutique prices. However, I was happy to depart with 3 tickets for a taste of the turtles, and it was another great decision. Perfect contrast to the pierogis I had just eaten. Fist bump with a manly ass slap.

After making it to the end of the tents where all the water rides were, it was time to turn around and head back, checking out the tents on the other side of the long row. It didn’t take long before we came upon A Natural Harvest. Now, I know I’ve said you shouldn’t get things that you can get anytime. But they had cheese fries. And it will be a drug-free day in Madison before I pass up cheese fries. They were perfect. The fries were fresh out of the fryer. The cheese was piping hot. You could barely hold the tray without getting third degree burns. And they added a little Cajun spice that gave the whole thing the perfect touch. And it was a huge portion. Well worth the six tickets it cost me. It felt like a bottomless tray of cheese fries. Half handshake, half chest-bump hug.

I was down to eight tickets. Not a good number. Taste portions are three tickets, so if I got one of those, I’d be stuck with five tickets, and not many things are five tickets. I had already decided I wanted to end the day with Italian ice (which is really breaking the rules since I can walk to Miko’s and get the best Italian ice in the city), which I figured couldn’t be more than five tickets, so I was happy to spend three tickets at Harold’s Chicken.

This was the best piece of fried chicken I can remember ever having, and it was only a fried chicken wing. I can only imagine how good a whole drumstick would be. And it came with some fried okra as well. Why don’t I eat at Harold’s every night? Actually, that’s a dumb question. A better question is why have I never eaten at Harold’s before? I have no idea. In fact, I’m embarrassed to even talk about it. Half handshake, half chest-bump hug.

Guess what? The Italian ice I had my eye on was more than five tickets. It was eight. I could have gotten a taste portion, but it was blue raspberry. Why even make a blue raspberry Italian ice? Oh well. We wandered over to Eli’s Cheesecake and I borrowed a ticket from Sarah and got a chocolate-dipped piece of chocolate-chip cheesecake on a stick. I don’t like cheesecake, so I’m not sure why I thought I would like this. Not surprisingly, I didn’t. But I refused to let the tickets go to waste so I forced myself to eat the whole thing. At least it was cold. High five.

It’s hard for me to leave the Taste without about twenty regrets, but I’ll spare you from another list. My biggest one would be not taking out a loan from the bank so I could get enough tickets to make sure I had no regrets. Or I could try and get a job with the Tribune, who paid Monica Eng to try EVERY SINGLE THING at the Taste. She is now officially a hero of mine, along with Joey Chestnut, Oliver Miller, Jabba the Hut, and his half-brother Pizza.

Overall, I’ll give my time at this year’s Taste a fist bump. Good, not great. I hope to make up for it next year.

Got a question? Send it to josh@borntofork.com.

Coalfire

Ratings Guide:
Half handshake, half chest-bump hug – 5 stars
Chest bump – 4 stars
Fist bump – 3 stars
High five – 2 stars
Handshake – 1 star
Manly ass slap – ½ star
Fone and fone – 0 stars


Restaurant: Coalfire
Location: 1321 W Grand


I was channel surfing the other day and came across the college cheerleading championships or something on ESPN2. Now, anytime I see 18-year-old girls wearing short skirts, I’m gonna stop and watch. I got so excited watching them jump around and yell that I decided to write this review in cheer (yes, it’s its own language).


I love Coalfire,
Yes I do!
I love Coalfire,
How ‘bout you?


Watch out, it’s here!
Bring your own beer!
Let’s eat, and cheer!
And then drink aforementioned beer!


You might order a pizza,
You might start off with a snack,
But when it comes to the calzones
They’re as good as riding bareback
They’re as good as riding bareback


Hey, hey the pizza’s thin,
Makes you feel less masculine.
Hey, Hey I’d do it again,
The sauce was as good as sin!


They put it IN they pull it OUT (sounds like my college years)
The coal-burning oven leaves no doubt
Enjoy the grub that it creates
Cause the margherita pizza dominates!


U.G.L.Y.
You ain’t got no alibi
You ugly
What, what, you ugly
You’re ugly, you’re oogley
Your mama says you’re yoogley
U.G.L.Y.
You ain’t got no alibi
You ugly
What, what, you ugly


Neapolitan pizza is the current sensation,
Popping up everywhere across the nation!
Chicago-style get ready for a fight,
It’s about time we all take a bite!
So who is the champion,
And the style that gets it done,
For Born to Fork,
Chicago-style is still #1!!!!
WHOOOOOOO!!!!!!!


Hey x the ambiance x it’s cozy in here
Seating x is limited x but I don’t really care
Just come x to the counter x to order your food
Then sit down x and wait x they’ll bring it to you
C-O-A-L-F-I-R-E
COALFIRE!!!


When I say BRING you say YOUR
BRING YOUR
BRING YOUR
When I say OWN you say BOOZE
OWN BOOZE
OWN BOOZE
When I say B.Y. you say O.B.
B.Y.O.B.
B.Y.O.B.


Order Order Order it up
Order that caprese salad up
Eat Eat Eat it up
Eat that caprese salad up
It’s It’s It’s OK
The caprese salad is just OK
GO SALAD!


We're back again better than before
Watch out Crust we'll raise that score
We're number one we thought you knew
Look out Spacca Napoli we're coming for you


I don't know what you've been told
I don't know what you've been told
Coalfire is as good as gold
Coalfire is as good as gold
If you heard what I just said
If you heard what I just said
Get on your knees and give me head (what?)
Get on your knees and give me head
Sound off
One, Two
Sound off
Three, Four
When you’re done you’ll want more
When you’re done you’ll want more


OK, I think that’s enough. In case you didn’t follow any of that, here’s a quick recap. I loved Coalfire. Liked it better than Crust (though the caprese salad at Crust is better, even though they call it something different) but not as much as Spacca Napoli or Pizza D.O.C. The calzone was my favorite. Really doughy and not too much ricotta. The pizza was maybe a little too thin (I love Neapolitan pizza, but still say Chicago-style is as good as it gets), but a great sauce and perfectly cooked. BYOB. It was also really reasonably priced. I’ll go back. Probably more than once.

Chest bump.


Got a question? Send it to josh@borntofork.com.