Chicago Marathon

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: Chicago Marathon
Location: Chicago


Many years ago (maybe five?) my friend Brandon decided that he wanted to spend the summer doing triathlons and he somehow convinced me to do them with him. Our first one was a sprint distance called Race for Sight in Columbia, MO. I had actually done the race the year before, so I wasn’t really concerned about doing it again. It was a pretty short race. A 400m swim or something, which is done in a pool, so you just swim back and forth in the pool like 8 times or something. Really easy. Then there’s the bike ride, which is like 18 miles or so, and is actually pretty challenging because there are a lot of hills. And you finish with a run that is only about 3 miles, but it’s got a couple of hills that I don’t enjoy. But again, not the most challenging tri in the world. So we headed up to Columbia the night before and were staying at Mike and Gretchen’s place. Mike’s brother Tim was actually doing the race as well, so it worked out pretty good. We headed to dinner, and our buddy Dru was working at Addison’s as a bartender, so we knew he’d hook us up a little bit, plus it would be a nice chance to hang out with him. Well, I figured I could handle eating some extra food, because again, the race wasn’t THAT hard, and I had actually done it the year before by myself. So I started off with the crab Rangoon dip (which is awesome), followed by a BBQ chicken pizza, followed by some pasta. And somewhere in there I thought it would be a good idea to start drinking beer, so I had about four or five Miller High Life’s as well. But again, by the end of the night I felt fine. And the next morning for the race, I felt fine. And during the swim, I felt fine. And during the bike ride, I felt fine. And during the run, well that was a different story. As I climbed the final gradual incline to the finish line I could feel my stomach doing jumping jacks. I had to stop and walk for a second, but when I did my entire body reacted, um, unfavorably. I thought I was going to puke, so I clenched up to keep that from happening. That caused me to nearly defecate on myself. My body shot straight up, stiff as a board, as I tried to hold it in from both ends. Let me tell you something – nothing feels worse than the uncontrollable urge to puke and poop at the exact same time. I nearly passed out. I was able to somehow keep myself from doing either, but I had to immediately sprint the last quarter mile to the finish line, knowing that if I stopped again anything could happen. I crossed the finish line and pretty much headed straight to the nearest toilet. Let’s just say that things didn’t end well for the toilet.

So last February I turned 30, which wasn’t a huge deal, but it definitely puts things in perspective a little bit, and I realized there were a ton of things I had expected to do by 30 that I hadn’t done. Running a marathon was one of those things, so I decided to sign up for the Chicago Marathon, which is traditionally one of the easier ones because it’s about as flat as my eighth-grade girlfriend (which is to say my girlfriend I had when I was in eighth grade, not a current girlfriend who is in eighth grade. Just wanted to make that clear).

To celebrate the worst idea in history I wanted to write a journal about my week leading up to the marathon. But since I take notes about a well as Brittany raises her kids, there are a lot of holes in the following information. Oh well, you’ll live.

I didn’t want to make the same mistake I made back in Columbia, so I vowed to clean out my system the week before the marathon and try to eat and drink right. Of course it didn’t quite work out that way.

MONDAY

For lunch I headed to Shaw’s Crab House with Debbie. I had about two loaves of bread using the garlic butter as dipping sauce. If you haven’t tried it, then I don’t know what else to tell you in order to convince you to try it. If heaven had a taste, it would probably be this. Or Matt’s Cookies. Or stuffed pizza. Or melted cheese. Or cheese fries. Or a chocolate milkshake. Needless to say, if heaven tastes like spinach, I’m not gonna be happy. I also had a bowl of the lobster bisque and a crab cake. The crab cake had a lot of shells in it, so I broke my tooth about four times, which kind of pissed me off. Now, had the shells been covered in garlic butter, I probably wouldn’t have minded so much.

For dinner I headed out to the O.P. to hang with the fam and eat at Trattoria 225. I ate prosciutto wrapped mozzarella, a Caesar salad, some pizza, and a baked penne pasta. I wasn’t sure if you’re supposed to carbo load a week out from the race, so I did just in case. After finishing off dinner with an apple pie I decided that the week of cleansing would start on Tuesday.

TUESDAY

Tuesday night I ran 7 miles, my last “long” run before the race. It felt so I good I got some McDonald’s for lunch. But, I was really good about what I ordered. So I only got a Big Mac, fries, and a cheeseburger. And a Diet Coke. I felt pretty guilty about the whole thing, so I decided to get a second workout in that night with a grueling game of co-ed flag football. It’d been a year since I played, so I wasn’t sure how I’d do. But I was like Vinny Testeverde. Except good. And not old. And not the arm of a 12-year-old girl. I threw five touchdowns, had three INTs while playing defense, and returned one of them for a TD. In case you skipped your math study hall, that’s 6 TDs total. And I left early because I had to take Debbie to the hospital after some chick raked her eye with her vicious talons. Shouldn’t it be a law that you have to cut your nails before playing any sport? Some people have a gift. Mine is co-ed sports. And eating.

After dropping Debbie off at the ER, I headed to pick up Geoff for our man-date. We headed to Handlebar. I figured they specialize in vegetarian and vegan food, and you don’t see too many fat vegetarians or hippies, so it seemed like a good place to get dinner during my week of cleansing. And it was (I’ll write more about it in my next post, which could be tomorrow, or next year. You never know with me.). We enjoyed nachos, a couple different sandwiches, some mac and cheese (which was terrific, and you’ll hear more about when I write more about it), and about six or seven beers (not all at Handlebar, but either way, beer probably wasn’t a good idea during the week. Luckily I only drank it about four of the six nights.). After two days of cleansing, I was feeling less than cleansed.

WEDNESDAY

I don’t remember what I ate on Wednesday. I’m 99.9% sure I blacked out when Piniella took Big Z out of the game, and when I came to everything was fuzzy and the Cubs were losing. Not good times. At least the Bears are playing well.

THURSDAY

For lunch I went to Specialty Bakery to get a sandwich. Most people haven’t heard of Specialty and have no idea where it is. In fact, it probably deserves its own post at some point, but since I don’t see that happening anytime soon, you’ll have to settle for this mini-paragraph. It’s on Lake St., right off of Wacker. They serve sandwiches and baked goods. And everything here is great. From the breakfast sandwich (I reco the Sante Fe) to the lunch sandwiches (they’re all good) to the baked goods (the cookies are great, and the cinnamon rolls are a guaranteed heart attack, which is code for “amazing”), I haven’t found anything I don’t like. On this day I went with the Thai Chicken sandwich on rye. Just terrific. Not too much peanut sauce, a good balance of toppings, and incredibly filling for a sandwich. My only complaint is that the chicken is probably not that fresh. Most likely pre-cooked and microwaved. At least that’s what it tasted like. But it didn’t bother me. Still enjoyed it immensely. I was finally getting the week of cleansing back on track. And then…

For dinner we headed to The Boundary to watch the Cubs game. The Boundary is a new sports bar in Wicker Park. It also symbolizes the death of Wicker Park as we know it. Boundary feels like it should be firmly planted in the Viagra Triangle, or Lincoln Park, or Weed St. Instead, it’s located on Division. In the heart of what used to be Wicker Park. But what can now only be referred to The Artist Formally Known as Wicker Park. Of course the place was filled with hot chicks, so all is instantly forgiven. Now, as much as I hate the fact that this place feels more like a club than a sports bar, and as much as I hate the fact that it really does feel like the last stake in the heart of Wicker Park, the food here is really good. We started off with the spinach dip (I loved it, and it was served with three different kinds of dipping choices – chips, pita bread, and some toasted bread), con queso (amazing, truly amazing (even if it did just taste like a Ro-Tel dip I’d make at home)), and fried mac and cheese (not bad, but definitely sounded better than it tasted). Somehow I was still hungry after all of that, so I ordered The Horseshoe. It might be one of the single greatest things available in the city. They start off with a piece of toast (pretty sure it was Texas toast). Then they put a huge burger patty on top of it. Then they top that with the fried app of your choice (onion rings, fries, or tater tots (I went with the tater tots)). And the whole thing is then topped with the con queso. I was speechless. But that’s probably because my mouth was full of burger/bread/tater tots/melted cheese. It’s one of the few cardiac-arrest-inducing foods that you have to eat with a fork and knife, which is no easy feat. I finished off the evening with the apple pie, which was horrible. But, the menu is full of classic bar food choices, along with some “eclectic” food choices (like a burger with peanut butter and jelly). And there is a HUGE beer selection (I opted for the Shiner Bock and the High Life (three of each). And there’s a shuffleboard (which is a nice dive-bar touch for a place that is nowhere close to a dive bar. I think it’s their way of trying to appease the “hipsters” in the area. If there are any left.). So the place has a lot going for it. And in closing, this night didn’t help the marathon preparation process. And I hate the Cubs.

FRIDAY

At this point I probably should have just given up the idea of eating right before the marathon and accepted the fact that I was going to ruin my shorts somewhere along the race route. But, I’m not a quitter. So for lunch I decided to head to Cosi for a salad. That was until I saw John, Dave, and Pete in the lobby of my building. They were heading to McDonald’s to play some Monopoly. Who was I to argue? I joined them, but took it easy, ordering a Big Mac, large fry, and large diet coke. That gave me six Monopoly pieces. And not one of them was an instant winner for me. What a rip.

Brent and Susan were in town for the night, so a big group of us headed over to Hot Chocolate for dinner. Again, trying to keep it light I ordered a milkshake (twice), which was never delivered (probably for the best). Then a grilled cheese (which wasn’t very big (also for the best) and tasted decent). And then an order of the mac and cheese. I could write about it all day (what kind of cheese (gouda), how much there was (a very good-size portion), how good it was, how it made my pants fit a little tighter, how my tongue almost swallowed itself, etc…). Instead, I’ll just say this – it was the best mac and cheese I’ve ever had. Ever. Ever, ever, ever. Ever. Ever. It goes without saying that it gets an HJ rating. All of the girls at the table took a bite, and I believed two of them orgasmed. Dave took a bite. He also orgasmed (but in a tantric way, so he didn’t ruin his shorts). I can’t say enough about it.

SATURDAY

One day until the race. The weather was heating up, I was developing a blister, and I didn’t exactly treat my body right all week. Needless to say I was terrified. So on this day I had cereal, played a round of golf (where I walked as a warm-up to the marathon, and also where I developed a blister), had a pork chop sandwich at the Cog Hill clubhouse (which was just OK), and a frozen pizza for dinner (which seemed like a good idea at the time). In hindsight I should have gone with a couple of hot dogs. Oh well. You live and you learn.

SUNDAY

The day of reckoning. I woke up at 6 and started off with a cinnamon raisin bagel with cream cheese, a banana, and some water. After putting on my race day clothes (white mesh shorts, black socks, Nike+ running shoes, a mustache (which was supposed to be my Prefontaine good luck charm), and my Jordan rookie-year jersey, I headed to the train. The platform at California was packed with runners, and when the train finally came it was almost impossible to find anywhere to stand. I guess that’s what happens when you have 45,000 people running a race. After getting off the train and heading to the starting area I ate another banana and a plain bagel with cream cheese. My stomach felt good and full without being too full. I topped everything off with some Gatorade (lemonade flavor). I was ready to go. As we creped to the starting line (I was with a couple of guys my dad works with (Matt, Derek, and Rob)), I wasn’t prepared for what I saw next. Several women jumped the fence, ran over to a tree, squatted down, and went pee. Right in front of everyone. You could see everything. Suddenly the two bagels and two bananas weren’t sitting as well as they once were. Not the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. As I crossed the start line I had a rush of adrenaline.

About 12 seconds later it went away as I was sweating profusely. It was hot out. At about mile 2 my clothes weighed an extra 6 lbs. At mile 4 I stopped and said “hi” to Steve and Halley. At mile 7 I stopped and said “hi” to Jen and Cleatus. At mile 8 I questioned what the hell I was thinking. At mile 9 I lost my will to live. By mile 10 I had consumed about 1,000 ounces of Gatorade and water. And it still wasn’t enough to keep me hydrated. At mile 10 I stopped and had a nice chat with Kristy and Claire. Kristy was nice enough to have a banana and M&Ms waiting for me. Before the race started I thought that would be more than enough, but at this point with the heat, it wasn’t even close. She asked if I wanted water, and after telling her that I would father her first-born for a cup of water, she ran up to her apartment and brought down a 16 oz Solo cup along with a gallon of water fresh from the fridge. I’m not exaggerating when I say it was the best water I’ve ever drank in my entire life. I downed half the cup, had her fill me back up, and then was on my way. I thought the M&Ms and banana would both be satisfying and delicious, but they were neither. The M&Ms just didn’t taste right, but that’s because anything that wasn’t wet didn’t taste right. And I think I had maxed out my banana consumption for the day. I was only able to eat about a half a bag of the candy, and half the banana before needing to ditch the rest. Have I mentioned how hot and miserable it was outside? I began running again, but let’s just say I’m not much of a runner and my training wasn’t up-to-par and I’m a tad overweight (I’m also the only person in history to train for a marathon and not lose 1 lb. Very sad.). So, after about mile 11 I began doing a little walking mixed in with a little running.

And I must have looked horrible, because it was at this point that a woman who was running had a full bottle of Gatorade, took a swig of it, then handed it to me. I told her I was OK, but she insisted, and then said, “You look like you need it more than I do.” That pretty much summed up the entire day for me. At mile 14 I grabbed a handful of ice from one of the spectators and held it against my neck. I couldn’t feel it. It was like it wasn’t there. I knew this was a very, very, very bad sign. I was actually prepared to quit, but my mom was waiting for me at mile 15, so I had to at least make it that far so she wasn’t standing outside (and she had biked there) in vain. And my buddy Tony was waiting for me at mile 20 to run the last 6 miles with me, so I didn’t want to let him down. Somehow I made it to mile 15 to see my mom. She gave me a bottle of water that was the exact opposite of the water Kristy had given me. This bottle was near boiling. Yet I drank more than half of it because I was that thirsty. I almost saved the second half of it so I could make some mac and cheese at mile 18, but was too weak to continue carrying the bottle, so I ditched it. For the next 5 miles I did the walk a mile/run a mile compromise. And this worked out really well. I actually found some new energy and was pretty sure I could do the rest of the race this way. Around mile 19 they started announcing that they had cancelled the race and asked people to start heading back to Grant Park. This was all the motivation I needed. No way I was quitting now. Not after four months of training. And if I did quit, then I’d still have to do another marathon in my lifetime so I could say I completed one. I kept going (as did everyone else), on my way to meet up with Tony. Soon they started asking everyone to walk, and all the clocks along the route were shut off. So almost everyone started walking. By the time I met up with Tony it was really hard to run. Partly because I was exhausted, and partly because running became like an obstacle course as you had to zig and zag through thousands of walkers. It wasn’t fun. We ended up walking most of the way from mile 21 through mile 25. I tried to have another banana, but it really didn’t sit well. Also tried some “goo”, which tasted like “goo”. Which is to say “not good”. At mile 25 Tony convinced me to run the rest of the way, which I did. For the most part. When I crossed the finish line I did the “Jordan” (the dunk pose made famous by his logo), which made my legs cramp up in a way that I thought I was going to pass out. Somehow I was able to stick the landing. Luckily the finish line was stocked with bottles and bottles of water. All at a temperature that could cook shrimp. I ended up having to walk about a half mile to a 7-Eleven before I was able to get cold water.

By the time I got home I was so exhausted all I could do was lay on the couch (which was a step up from the 9,000 runners I saw who could only curl up and lay on the sidewalk along the route). I was starving, but I was so tired I couldn’t find the energy to eat. I just curled up into a ball for about four hours before I was finally able to muster up the energy to have a bowl of cereal. I would say it was the worst I’ve every felt in my entire life. Even worse than the time I had food poisoning and lost 10 lbs in 24 hours.

In the end, the race was a success simply for the fact that I didn’t pull an “Oops I Crapped My Pants”. Will I ever do another marathon? I wish I could say “no”, but my time was so horrible that I’m sure I’ll do at least one more just so that I have a time I’m not embarrassed to tell people (5:49 by the way).

I give my marathon experience a handshake, and that’s only because I finished.




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

Trattoria 225

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: Trattoria 225
Location: 225 Harrison, Oak Park


I grew up in Oak Park and my parents still live there, so I make it out there more times than not (at least I like to think so, though my mom would probably tell you that I don’t visit enough) for dinner. Now, whenever we head out there, dinner is limited to four options. Option 1: Lalo’s. This is my dad’s favorite place to eat. And for the last 10 years or so was just about the only restaurant they would go to. When I’d come back and visit from college? We’d go to Lalo’s. When my wife and I would come up to visit while living in St. Louis? We’d go to Lalo’s. When we’d head out there for dinner after moving back to the city? We’d go to Lalo’s. I think my parents went there every Friday night for like 8 years. They are like the Brett Favre or Cal Ripken of Lalo’s dining – they never missed a start. And I’m not complaining, because I like Lalo’s (fist bump with a manly ass slap). But every week? It can get a little old. Option 2: Barbeque in the backyard. This only happens on Sunday nights, and it only happens in the summer. And I use the term barbeque loosely, as it mostly consists of my dad burning everything in sight. Option 3: Salerno’s pizza. This is a staple when we don’t want to go out. And it’s probably my 2nd favorite pizza in the world. Option 4: Tasty Dog. Their hot dogs have cucumbers on them. But other than that they’re pretty good.

So I was pretty excited last week when my sister was in town and my parents said we were having dinner at Trattoria 225, a new Italian restaurant (rustic Italian dining, to be precise) not too far from their house. Growing up Harrison St. didn’t have a whole lot going on. There was Amanda’s (which was a convenience store we would go to all the time to get my mom Pepsi and buy water guns), La Majada (a Mexican restaurant which is still there and right across from Trattoria 225), and a laundry mat. And that’s about it. Now it’s full of art studios and cute little shops and a coffee shop and restaurants and everything. It’s like this cool little artsy strip that everyone in town seems to love. Quick sidestep here. My old boss had a sister who lived in Oak Park, and when I first met her (about 7 years ago) and told her where my parents lived, she talked about how Harrison was becoming the cool art part of town. She then proceeded to say how she used to be afraid to walk down Harrison, but that it was becoming the kind of place where it was OK for her kids to walk around (as long as it was light out). I didn’t even know how to react. This was the O.P. we were talking about. It’s not a scary place. I grew up there and almost never felt threatened even as a kid (except the one time a kid came into our backyard and tried take my brother’s bike, but my mom came out and put the kid in a choke hold until he tapped out and left running. Highest of high comedy.). And this lady was acting like it was Compton. White people make me laugh.

I was a little late to dinner because I have a job in the city and my parents seem to think they are 85 and made reservations for 6:30. By the time I got there they had ordered an appetizer and drinks. I ordered a beer from the waiter, and he was ready to take everyone’s food order. I made up for the lost time by getting the fresh mozzarella wrapped with prosciutto, grilled Caesar salad, margherita pizza, and the baked penne. And I also got dessert, but I’ll tell you more about that in a minute.

The fresh mozzarella wrapped with prosciutto was pretty decent. But then again anytime you wrap a cheese with cured meat I’m probably going to be more happy than not. The mozzarella didn’t quite taste as fresh as expected, and the prosciutto wasn’t the best I’d ever had, but it was grilled and topped with pesto, so it ended up being pretty delicious. The cheese was nice and soft, but not quite oozing. I’d for sure get it again, but it was also cheese and meat, so take my exuberance with a grain of salt.

The grilled Caesar wasn’t really grilled, at least not that I could tell. So I guess it was more like a Caesar. They served it like Barcello’s (R.I.P.) used to, as just a huge wedge of romaine that you had to cut up yourself. But it was fantastic. Better than Barcello’s. I really like the dressing, and the head of romaine tasted really fresh and crisp. Not too crunchy, not too soft. Not too ripe (can lettuce even be ripe? Is that possible? Can you describe lettuce that way, or only bananas and cantaloupe and stuff? Either way, you know what I mean.). Just a really good salad. And if I ever talk like this about salad again please kick me in the crotch.

I ordered the margherita pizza for the table, so everyone could get a taste, even though I think I ate most of it. It was a wood-fired pizza, which proves that Oak Park really is getting swanking and safe again for the pale of skin. The pizza was just OK. My mom really liked it, but it didn’t compare to Pizza D.O.C., Coalfire, or Spacca Napoli. But it was a solid option.

I really liked the baked penne. It was filled with spiced fennel sausage and pepperoni. And not some tiny, thin slices of pepperoni, but good, sizable chunks. And it was really good pepperoni. In fact, had the dish only had pepperoni, it might have been perfect. Next time I’m going to ask if I can order it without the sausage (which wasn’t bad, it’s just that there was a lot more sausage than pepperoni, and I like the pepperoni a lot better), and double up on the pepperoni. I have a feeling after I order it that way they’ll see the error of their way and change the menu. And name the dish in my honor (The Big Delicious Baked Penne). At least I like to think so.

For dessert the waiter talked me into the apple pie, which was topped with cinnamon gelato. The gelato was really good, and the pie was decent, just not hot enough. If you’re going to serve apple pie, I think you are required to make sure that it feels like it just came out of the oven. Otherwise what’s the point?

The service was great. The place has a nice set up (exposed brick, cement bar, lots of room, plenty of tables). And the prices were really, really reasonable.

There’s not much else to say about the place. It’s not great. It’s not awful. It’s just a really solid option, especially if you’re in the Oak Park area. Just good old-fashioned Italian food done right. Not too fancy, not too simple. A little something for everyone. Hopefully we’ll be heading back (sorry Lalo’s).

Fist bump.


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

Between

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: Between Boutique Café and Lounge
Location: 1324 N. Milwaukee


A couple weeks ago we had a babysitter for the night so we headed out for some dinner and drinks with friends. We’d heard decent things about Between, so we decided to check it out (mostly because no one could come up with a better idea). I know now why they call it Between, because the place is best described as something between a cool pretty lounge and a very mediocre restaurant.

We were there on a Thursday night, and figured that there would be some kind of a buzz to the place, but there really wasn’t. The liveliness of the place was somewhere between a funeral home and a study hall. When we arrived we were one of only two groups in the place, and by the time we left, there were still only a handful of tables that were full. I expected it to be much more of a happenin’ place, and maybe it is on a Friday or Saturday night, or even late night, but between 7 and 10 on a Thursday, it doesn’t have a whole lot going on.

I do like the décor of the place. It’s very red, which, combined with the dim lighting, gives it a very soothing, yet very elegant and cool feel. Along the wall of the restaurant they have what can only be described as VIP booths, which basically consist a couch, a couple of ottomans that double as chairs, and red string curtains (like those hippie beads that college kids use as a replacement to the door to their room) that separate the booths. The table is essentially a coffee table, which is fine if you’re there just having a drink and taking advantage of the lounge aspect of the joint. But if you’re trying to eat? It’s incredibly uncomfortable because you have to hunch over to eat the food. And if you’re stuck sitting on one of the ottomans (as I was), then you might as well check with your insurance ahead of time to make sure they cover traction, because you’ll need it when you’re done eating.

Between is basically a tapas place, even though it doesn’t really call itself that. They just like to describe it as “boutique plates”, which is a fancy way of saying “small plates that you’ll be forced to share with friends even though you’d rather just eat everything on the plate yourself”. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, I am not a huge fan of the sharing concept. Call me selfish. Call me greedy. Or just call me fat. Either way it’s not going to change my opinion. And that’s not to say that I’m against sharing food at a restaurant. When you and a friend or lover or wife or cousin or Geoff or whatever are having dinner, and you decide to order a couple of entrees and split them, I’m all for it. But that’s because it allows you to get a significant taste of a couple of things while properly filling you up. When you share small plates, you get like one bite of something and then it’s all gone. You want more, but you can’t have more without ordering another plate of it, and when you do, everyone shares it again so you only get one more bite. I know what you’re thinking; “You’ve written this before. I get it. You don’t like sharing food. Please quit your bitching and move on.” Good point. Moving on.

All that aside, the portions at Between are actually pretty substantial. Plenty if you’re sharing with just one other person (as my wife and I were doing), and tolerable if you’re sharing with 2-3 other people (which we were kind of doing with Matt and Allison). Everything came with 4-5 potions on the plate (except the burgers), and the portions were decently filling.

We got a plate of the onion rings, which were pretty good. They weren’t amazing or anything, but I did enjoy them. They didn’t really seem like they were fried, more like baked. They weren’t greasy and were very bready (which isn’t a real word, but I couldn’t find anything in the dictionary that described the onion rings any better). It came with a dipping sauce (which I typically love with onion rings) that was described as “Garlic Cream”. But it didn’t taste garlicky at all. It tasted like plant. And no plant in particular. Just plant. Like grabbing a leaf from a tree or a handful of grass or a plant, grinding it up, then using it as a dipping sauce. Let’s just say I only dipped twice and then quickly learned my lesson.

Next we got the Shiitake, Beef & Scallion Baturas, which are just empanadas. It kind of tasted like a White Castle burger fried in dough (which I know sounds delicious, and probably would be if White Castle actually came out with something like this), but wasn’t quite as good as a White Castle burger. It was fine, and I enjoyed the vinaigrette dipping sauce, but nothing special.

The next plate delivered was the Sweet Heat Shrimp, which were the highlight of the night. Just a delicious combination of sweet and spicy. I kind of wish I could have ordered a huge plate of them. I like shrimp, but here’s what bothers my about it. It’s too expensive and not at all filling. So whenever you order it you get like five pieces, but shrimp is so light that it’s like eating five pieces of celery, so you’re never full or satisfied, and you always want more, except you can’t order more because it’s usually just a little too much. But if you do happen to go here for food, I’d for sure orders these.

Batting cleanup were the Spicy Mantou Burgers. These were also delicious. They were served on Boa Bread (which was my only real complaint), and had a great spice and sauce to them that made them really juicy and flavorlicious (I’m going to see how many words I can make up while writing this review). And the two burgers were actually the perfect size. And I mean perfect if you’ve had three small plates and are ready for something to actually fill you up. They essentially took a full size burger (think a third-pounder) and cut it in half to make two burgers out of it. And they came with a huge plate of fries (which weren’t great, but that didn’t stop me from eating every last one of them).

Lastly (yeah, there’s more) we had the Shrimp and Chorizo Skewers. Whatever. I didn’t love the chorizo, or the shrimp, or the sauce. In fact, I thought they were so average that I only ate three of the five skewers.

Thanks to Matt and Allison and the idea of “mi casa (if casa meant food) su casa (if casa meant food)” I also got a taste of the Belgian Meatballs (not good).

After dinner, we decided to order a dessert. We opted for the cinnamon French toast, which came with some sort of ice cream. The good news is that it was actually pretty good. The bad news is that it took FORTY-FIVE MINUTES to get delivered to us. And that’s after we flagged down our server not once, but twice to check on its status. I was livid.

Our server was awful. Didn’t come to check on us nearly enough (which is one thing if the place is packed, but as I stated before, it was deader than Tupac), took forever to deliver our drinks and food, and he never apologized for how long dessert took. After we finally got it, the manager came over to check on us. I was fully expecting him to apologize and comp the dessert, but he acted like nothing ever happened. He even tried to convince us how lucky we were to be sitting in the corner VIP “booth” because it was the best seat in the house. I basically told him in not so many words that we weren’t happy, but he was totally oblivious. I really should have just came out and told him how unhappy we were, but I was so angry I could barely speak, so instead I just sat there and stared him down. When the check came it included dessert. Needless to say the waiter got a very minimal tip.

So, if you’re looking to get dinner some place, I’d look elsewhere. But if you’re looking to get drinks somewhere, and maybe have a small nibble while you’re drinking, then you might want to check it out. But I won’t be going back.

Handshake with a manly ass slap.



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