Phoenix

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


About a month ago I was in Phoenix for my buddy Mike’s bachelor party. We had a good time, ate a little, drank a lot, and drove even more (but not while or directly following drinking, because that is wrong). See, I used to think that St. Louis was the world’s largest suburb, but I realize now that Phoenix is. Everything is 30 minutes away. If you’re downtown and want to go to Scottsdale? 30 minutes. If you’re in Anthem (where my buddy lives) and want to get anywhere? 30 minutes. If you’re in Scottsdale and want to get to another part of Scottsdale? 30 minutes. The airport? 30 minutes. The line to get into a hot club in Scottsdale? 30 minutes. The line to get into my pants? 30 minutes. The list goes on, but everything seems 30 minutes away. I have a feeling the Super Bowl next year is going to be a disaster since the stadium is 30 minutes away from ANYTHING (including the parking lot). Mike claims it isn’t that bad, and you get used to it. But he’s getting married, so clearly he’s an idiot (Amy, if you’re reading, I love being married. It’s awesome. I can’t wait to grow old with you.).

This coming weekend we’re heading back there for the wedding, where I happen to be the Best Man. I’ll be honest, I’m a little nervous about writing the speech, or coming up with the speech. I think I’m more worried about my wife’s reaction than I am the Bride’s. Either way I’m sure it’s going to kill. Clearly I’m hilarious.

Any who, here’s a list of where we ate, and a little bit of what we did to celebrate the end of one chapter in Mike’s life, and the start of another (even if the new chapter is painful to read). Just jokes people.


Restaurant: Denny’s
Location: Anthem, AZ

The goal was for everyone to arrive at PHX around the same time on Thursday night (around 7:30), so Mike could grab us at the airport (Tony, Deni and myself), then we could head out on the town (meeting Adam where ever we decided to go). Well, it was raining in Phoenix. Yeah, apparently it rains there. I didn’t know that either. Tony and Deni were delayed out of St. Louis and got in an hour late. Now, my trip was a little more trouble. I was trying to save some cash since it seems you can’t fly into PHX for less than $450. Especially in March. Especially on short notice. So my flight was going to take me from Chicago to Pittsburg to Phoenix, getting me in around 7:30. When I got to the airport there was a line at US Airways two hours long (minimum). Why? Because all of their self check-in kiosks were broken. All of them. After waiting for 5 minutes, and realizing that I would never make my flight at this rate, I cut the line and walked up to one of the machines that had a sign that clearly said “Out of Order”. I played with it for a minute, then got the lady’s attention behind the counter and said, “I’m sorry, I not sure if this is working or not, but it’s not letting me get my boarding pass.” She grabbed my ID, punched a couple of keys on her computer, and handed me a boarding pass. I then turned around to see about 350 people staring at me like I was the anti-christ, or Jim Hendry, which is pretty much the same thing to me at this point. I felt bad. 8 seconds later that feeling went away as I cruised through security on my way to my gate.

And that is where karma caught up with me. My flight was delayed. By an hour. Meaning I’d miss my connection in Pittsburg (which was running on time). I talked to the ticket agent and she said everything was booked, and she wouldn’t be able to get me on a plane to PHX until two days later (no joke). The best option she had for me was to keep my flight to Pittsburg, sleep in the airport overnight (they wouldn’t cover a hotel), then fly out on a 7 a.m. flight to PHX that would get me there at 9-ish (and in time for golf). I was livid. She booked it for me, and gave me a number to call if I decided to just cancel my trip and take the refund. I called the number and talked to another lady to see if she could do any better. I told her I was going there for a wedding, was the best man, and really, really needed to get there that night so that the bride wouldn’t kill me. She was able to find me a flight on a different airline and needed her supervisor to authorize it. He didn’t. So, there I was, stuck with two options: 1) Pittsburg or 2) cancel my trip. Then I heard the ticket agent from the next gate make a final boarding call to Vegas. I figured what the hell, if I’m going to be stuck anywhere I’d rather it be Vegas because my sister lives there. And it’s Vegas. I hurried over and she asked if anyone in line was on the flight to Vegas. I raised my hand and she let me cut the line. I explained the situation, and she was able to throw me on the plane in the last available seat (and an exit aisle seat no less), and told me that she would take care of my connection from Vegas to PHX after I took off. I would be booked on the 11 p.m. flight to PHX from there, but could get on an earlier flight going stand-by. Which is exactly what I did. I made it into PHX about an hour after the other guys. Not a huge deal, but…

By the time we got from the airport to Anthem (30 minutes away), everything was closed. And it was only 10:30. The only thing still open serving food was Denny’s. What choice did we have? Our big night out on the town turned out to be a late dinner at Denny’s and hanging out at Mike’s new house.

I hadn’t eaten since lunch (about 12 hours earlier), so I ordered just about everything on the menu. And before you read that as an exaggeration, let me tell you what I ordered:

- Meat Lovers Omelet
- Hash browns
- Two pieces of bacon
- Two pieces of sausage
- Two pieces of toast
- A stack of pancakes
- A basket of onion rings
- And a Miller Lite (that’s right, Denny’s serves beer. It’s like a dream come true.)

I hadn’t eaten at a Denny’s in years. Many years. And you know what? I forgot how reliable it was. The omelet was what you could expect. Not great, but not terrible. I was expecting an average omelet served in a heart attack portion size, and it didn’t disappoint. The bacon, sausage, hash browns, and toast were all fine. I don’t even really remember what they tasted like. The pancakes were fantastic. Now, I’m not sure if they tasted as good as they did because they were sweet, and a nice balance to the protein, salt, and fried food I was eating, or if Denny’s pancakes are just better than people give them credit for. They were fluffy, cooked perfectly, and didn’t need a whole lot of syrup (which is a good sign, because when you have to load up pancakes with syrup it means you’re trying to hide the taste of the actual pancake with a diabetic attack of liquid sugar).

When you’re starving, looking for decent food that won’t disappoint you (mostly because your expectations are so low), and don’t mind risking contracting Hepatitis B from a cook, Denny’s is the place that always comes through. A surprising fist bump.



Restaurant: Copper Door
Location: San Carlos Hotel, Phoenix, AZ

Friday was a day of golf, which was highlighted by 1) a Deni meltdown that resulted in him throwing his club in someone’s backyard while they were sitting on their patio having lunch and 2) by a creepy-uncle type we met on the driving range who made this fantastic joke about the women he met at the range: “Me and those women have a lot in common. We both love [women’s genitalia].” Good one sir. Please stop talking to me.

For dinner on Friday night, we wanted to do something nice, but nothing that was too much of a scene and wouldn’t put the hurt on our wallets. We tried to get reservations at Durant’s, which is a great steakhouse that feels like it’s still living in the 1960’s and 70’s. The whole place looks like a scene out of Carlito’s Way. But, they were booked, so we went to the Copper Door instead. We were heading to the Rattlers arena football game afterwards, and Copper Door is located in the San Carlos hotel, which isn’t far from the stadium, so it made it easy to grab dinner and then walk over to catch the game.

The San Carlos is supposedly haunted. Some chick took a headfirst dive off the roof (7 floors up) about 70 years ago or something, and she’s been creeping the place out ever since. Apparently the San Carlos used to be the spot. All the Clark Gable cats from back in the day used to come here and party and spend the weekend in Phoenix. It was apparently also the last time that people hung out in downtown Phoenix, because at seven o’clock on the Friday night the whole area was dead. No one on the streets. Everything was closed. Just a bunch of tumbleweeds blowing around. So, it was no surprise that we were the only people eating at the Copper Door. Normally, I wouldn’t be surprised since we were eating at six, but since 90% of Phoenix residents are 90, I assumed that the place would be hopping during the blue hair witching hour. I was wrong.

On the plus side we got extra attention from our server. Unfortunately it wasn’t necessarily a good thing. It was his first night, and once he realized we were a group of friends on a bachelor party, he thought that it would be OK if he became part of the party. At one point he was sitting down at the table and watching basketball with us. Perfect.

I started off with onion rings, which were fantastic. Good batter, huge size, tons of flavor, and fried. Plus, they were fried. I also got a salad to start of with. Nothing special. Not sure why I even brought it up.

For dinner I wanted to get the pork chop, but they were out of them. I was pretty upset. So much so that everyone at the table started calling me “pork chop”. Which was amusing. Until our server started calling me “pork chop”. “Hey ‘pork chop’, you need another drink?” “Hey ‘pork chop’, how’s your food?” It culminated at the end of the meal when we were leaving and he shook everyone’s hand, and when he got to mine he said, “Have a good one, ‘pork chop’.” Needless to say I wasn’t happy about this. Which I probably shouldn’t be putting in writing because everyone (and by everyone I mean all 3 people who read this) will start calling me “pork chop”. Can’t wait.

I ended up getting a strip steak, which was fine. I could have used a slightly bigger one, but that kind of thinking has gotten me tipping the scales a little heavy these days, so it’s probably good I didn’t. The mashed potatoes were really good. Nice and creamy, just how I like them.

In the end, the place was just OK. But the drinks were strong, so that was nice. Gonna have to give it a high five with a manly ass slap.

After dinner we headed out to the game, which was entertaining. And I was amazed how good looking the cheerleaders were. I wasn’t expecting much since it was an AFL team, but they were solid. About a thousand times better than the Luvabulls. And yes, I’m a scumbag. The rest of the night was spent in Scottsdale, where I somehow volunteered to be the sober driver and got to watch everyone get drunk, Tony do touchdown celebrations in the streets with perfect strangers, and Tony and Adam have a UFC competition (which Adam won by using his Butterbean build to suffocate Tony).

Restaurant: Taco Del Mar
Location: Anthem, AZ


The next morning we headed to Taco Del Mar for breakfast (since it was almost noon). Well, that’s not entirely true. First we headed to a bagel place, but nobody wanted a bagel and was ready for a heartier meal. Except for me. I had been up the longest, hadn’t eaten, and then had to wait for everyone to get ready. But the time we went to go eat I was starving, so I ran in and got a bagel with cream cheese. Then we went to Taco Del Mar and I got a burrito.

Taco Del Mar isn’t that different from a Chipotle. You have a limited menu (burritos, tacos, etc…), they make it in front of you, and your stomach gets stretched like a limo. What I loved about this place (and they have locations across the country, just none in Illinois or Wisconsin) is that it was family owned, and the whole family was there on Saturday morning. Mom and dad were walking around, talking to customers, and their kids were the ones preparing the food behind the counter. It had a great family feel. You felt at home and welcomed. Plus, the burritos don’t feel as scripted as they do at Chipotle. You really get to pick every ingredient you want in it and how much of it you want. It’s like the Burger King of burrito places. And on top of that the burrito was really, really good. Plus they served beer, which tasted great at 11:30.

Fist bump with a manly ass slap.

After lunch we headed to a family fun park for some juvenile games and gambling. This is what happens when you get married after 30. First we played mini-golf, but as a skins game, with everyone throwing $40 into the pot. Pretty fun to have 10 carry-over holes with someone putting for $100. More enjoyable than I ever could have imagined. Then we did some go-karting where the only object was to spin people out. If you did, they owed you $5. It’s a miracle no one got killed. Or kicked out. And it seemed like Tony won about $50. It’s no surprise that he’s good at hitting guys from behind and making them lose control. After that we did a little home run derby at the batting cage, where Deni finished things off by dropping the bat, turning his back, and taking a pitch. It was like Jackass. Except you didn’t want to vomit while watching it.


Restaurant: Jillian’s
Location: Scottsdale, AZ


Who cares about the food? I think I had a burger that was terrible, and a spinach dip that was passable. High five (and I’m being generous).

The real story was my domination at pop-a-shot. Well, adult pop-a-shot. They had the classic pop-a-shot, which Mike killed at, but when it came to the adult version (which involved real basketballs, and a 10-foot rim) I was like Dirk Nowitzki. It felt good. I’m not going to lie.


And that about covers it.



Got a question? Send it to born2fork@yahoo.com.

Bravo Tapas

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: Bravo Tapas
Location: 2047 W. Division


If you know me, or if you’re either of the two people who happen to read these reviews, then you know my feelings on tapas. Small plates of food that you’re supposed to share with other people and at the end of the night you end up paying a ton of money for an empty stomach and then have to go out of your way to Taco and Burrito No. 4 just so you don’t go to bed hungry. No thanks. And I think I get the concept. It’s supposed to be a group activity where you share some food and laughs and get to sample everything. The problem is that each plate has so little on it that either not everyone gets a taste or you just get a small sample when what you really want is to eat the whole plate. So you get the waiter’s attention, order another plate, and when it comes everyone sticks their fork in it and all you get is one more bite so you sit back in your chair and sulk for the rest of the night. But maybe that’s just me.

Well, Wicker Park has had a flurry of tapas restaurants open up lately. First it was Del Toro. And then People Lounge opened up just a couple of blocks away, and both places seem to be doing really well. So, I was a little surprised when Bravo, another tapas place, opened up in the area. What could this place have that the other two don’t? I had to find out.

Bravo is located on Division, right next to Inn Joy and Small Bar. Perfect location as far as I’m concerned. See, if you head to the heart of the Wicker Park/Bucktown area (North, Damen and Milwaukee) it’s getting too congested. Everything feels cramped and there are just a too many people around. I’ve said it before, but the area really is becoming Lincoln Park West. And if you love Lincoln Park or Lakeview, then you probably love the heart of Wicker Park. But down on Division there is a lot going on, but less people checking it out. There are just enough people around that you feel like you’re in a happenin’ spot (yeah, I just said “happenin’”. I’m 29 going on 53. Awesome.) but just few enough people to make you feel like you know something that the rest of the city doesn’t know. Enjoy it while it lasts. As the Lincoln Parkers and yuppies (and this is coming from a yuppie) move out of their comfort zone and head half a mile south to Division to check it out then it’s going to be the next hot spot where everyone wants to see or be seen. I can’t wait. And it really is funny how many people (mostly Lincoln Park/Lakeview people) I talk to and explain where I live (a little south of Division in Ukrainian Village) and they have this reaction of, “Oh. Is it OK over there? Isn’t it a little rough? I mean, do you feel safe living there?” I’d tell them to find out for themselves, but then again…

Bravo. They have a big outdoor patio right on Division. The best part of living in Chicago is the 12 days a year that it’s nice out and just about every restaurant has a patio and every patio is packed as residents get out to enjoy the weather knowing that it never seems to last long enough. And the patio at Bravo is great. Plenty of tables right on the sidewalk for great people watching. And the night we were there a band was playing live music that filled the streets. Just a great atmosphere for a Thursday night dinner. Of course my friend Dave emailed me the other day and simply said, “Have you been to Bravo? That place looks like douche bag central.” So, either I’m wrong (which is impossible), I’m a douche bag (which is more than likely), or Dave’s an idiot (I plead the 5th). Maybe you should just go and make your own judgments.

Adding to the great atmosphere was great service. Our server stopped by the right amount of times – not too often, but also not invisible. And he couldn’t have been friendlier. Giving menu advice, asking how we were doing, staying to chat for a minute, but never interrupting the conversation, staring at my wife’s boobs, but in a way that I barely noticed. Just perfect service.

But who cares about all that. The only thing that ever really matters is the food. And we ordered a bunch of it. Here’s a quick rundown (and I apologize in advance for the lack of detail here. I was going to write everything down, as I usually do, but on the menu they had a website, so I just figured I’d head to the website for the details about what we ordered. Needless to say, their website isn’t exactly up to speed):


Chicken Empanadas: Three good-sized empanadas to a plate. Pretty tasty. Not nearly as good as Tango Sur’s, but would get them again in the future. Mostly because I’ll always order fried food when available.

Braised Ribs: Another good portion size. Just a pile of ribs served on a plate. More than enough for two people, and probably better suited for four people. Meat came off the bone easily, and the taste was not too bad. Nothing special, but since there was so much, I’m not going to complain.

Goat Cheese Dip with Toasted Garlic Bread: Probably the second best thing we ordered. Such a simple thing – goat cheese surrounded by some tomato sauce. Pile some cheese and sauce on your little piece of garlic bread, stuff into your mouth and enjoy. And I did just that.

Ceviche: My wife hated this. Too much onion. I loved it. Lot’s of flavor, lots of onion, lots of seafood.

Potatoes: The best dish of the night. Just a huge plateful of potatoes with some great hot sauce type seasoning and a little dish of dip to, well, dip the potatoes in. Really, really good stuff. Again, a huge plate.

Calamari: Not great. I’m going to go ahead and say it – if you’re not going to fry your calamari, then please let me know that ahead of time. I wish I could get all the restaurants in all the world to agree to indicate on their menu weather or not the calamari is fried. It makes a huge difference. This stuff wasn’t fried, and it tasted a little burnt. I didn’t love it. And yes, I ate the whole plate.


Here’s a summary of Bravo – decent food, huge portion sizes, great atmosphere, great service, good prices.


I would go back here. It’s kind of man tapas – big portion sizes of OK food (not great by any means), and reasonably priced. We ordered WAY too much food. This is one of those tapas places where you don’t mind sharing your food, which is rare for me.

I’d for sure go back, but I’m only going to give it a high-five with a manly ass slap. Nothing spectacular, but a solid option if you’re nearby.


Got a question? Send it to born2fork@yahoo.com.

El Cid

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: El Cid
Location: 2645 N. Kedzie


I French kissed a cow this weekend and it reminded me of eating roast beef. Not only that, the cow was dead. More on that in a moment.

This past Saturday, where the weather was absolutely perfect, I ventured over to by buddy Dave’s place. Dave just moved here a couple of weeks ago and he had some friends in town from New York. They wanted to grab a bite and were in the mood for some authentic Mexican food, something they say they don’t really get in New York. So, with the weather perfect and the desire to sit outside, I recommended we check out El Cid in Logan Square.

I love the atmosphere at El Cid. Located in the heart of Logan Square it’s just across the street from the Blue Line stop, making it pretty easy to get to. Well, easy to get to for me, since I live near the Blue Line. Maybe not as easy to get to for you if you don’t live near the Blue Line. Lucky for me I don’t care about you. Logan Square has a great vibe about it. One of those “up and coming” neighborhoods, it’s been deemed the next hot spot. It feels a lot like Wicker Park felt 5-10 years ago before Josh Hartnett moved in. And El Cid has two outdoor areas – one in front with about five small tables that let you sit on the sidewalk and take in Logan Square and a second patio in the back with the perfect combination of trees and sunlight. We sat in the back.

Days like this day were made for two things – Mexican beer and margaritas. Chrissie and I opted for the margaritas, while Dave and Wojo went with Pacifico. I didn’t love my margarita. After having one at Matchbox the night before (best in the city), my bar was probably set too had, so I was going to be disappointed no matter what. But, that doesn’t change the fact that it wasn’t a great margarita. Chrissie got the strawberry one and said it tasted like cough syrup. I’m not sure if she meant, “Yum, this tastes like cough syrup” or “Yuk, this tastes like cough syrup” or “MMMMM, cough syrup. This reminds me of the good ol’ days.” I’m guessing the first. The beer tasted fine. Dave went with the Tecate for his second round, and it was served out of a can. And you know what they say; it isn’t summer until you’re slamming a 12 oz can of Tecate.

I started things off with the queso fundido. At a lot of places queso fundido is just a fancy way of saying Rotelle dip. But not at El Cid. They do it the right way. They bring out a plate of perfectly melted Chihuahua cheese, then you scoop it up with your fork, wrap a tortilla around it, and enjoy. I couldn’t have been happier. It was a plate full of happiness. I think I hit rock bottom when I ran out of tortillas and just started eating the cheese with my fork.

Then I ordered three tacos for my lunch. Two of the tacos were fish tacos. I’ll be honest, they were good but not great. They had a nice mix of cilantro and onions and fish, and I squeezed some lime on them, but the flavor was very average. Nothing special.

The third taco I got was beef tongue. That’s right, beef tongue. I saw it on the menu, and I’ve never eaten beef tongue before, so I figured what the hell. I was actually a little disappointed. I’m not sure what I expected it to taste like, but it tasted like roast beef. You could see the taste buds and stuff on the little pieces, so it had that going for it. But, the taco did kill two birds with one stone - now I can cross “beef tongue” and “French kiss a cow” off my list of “1 Million Things To Do Before The Cubs Win a World Series”.

Other orders at the table included the barbeque chicken kabobs, which were fantastic. Maybe the best order of the day, minus the plate of cheese. Dave got some kind of sandwich, which he regretted. It was served on Mexican bread, and he thought that sounded interesting. Turns out Mexican bread is pretty much like American bread. Who knew? But, he also got a taco with Mexican Gyro meat (which is just marinated pork) and it was excellent. I’d advise getting tacos with this instead of fish or beef tongue.

Now, I read recently that El Cid was up for the honor of best tacos in the city. It didn’t win, but finished somewhere in the top ten. I love me some El Cid, but mostly for the atmosphere. But I wouldn’t say they are anywhere near the top 10 tacos in the city. Who is in the top 10? I don’t know, I’ll have to get back to you. But if El Cid is in the top then, then I think Chicago is in a lot of trouble. But that’s just me.

El Cid gets a high-five with a manly ass slap. There’s better Mexican food elsewhere, but that doesn’t stop me from going out of my way to visit El Cid when I can.


Got a question? Send it to born2fork@yahoo.com.

Mambo Grill

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: Mambo Grill
Location: 412 N. Clark


The first time I went to Mambo Grill was several years ago when I was in town visiting some friends. My buddy Brian and his then girlfriend (now wife) took my wife and me there. Everything seemed fine on the surface. When the waiter came and took our drink order, I wanted something “authentic” and “different”. He recommended the Micheladas. The Iced Spicy Beer. Sounded interesting. I was a tad reluctant, but he talked me into it. Why was I reluctant? Well, here is what the drink is made of. First, they take the Latin beer of your choice, then pour it over ice (is beer EVER good over ice?). Then, it is garnished with a lime (seems innocent enough). Now, here is where it gets a little scary. The drink is then served with a dash of Cholula hot sauce. Not sure this is what I want in my beer, but then again, I like spicy stuff, so I’m game. But it didn’t end there. The last ingredient is a “dash” of Worchestire sauce. There’s an old saying that goes “The camel toe that broke the vaginas back”, or something like that. Well, the Worchestire was the camel toe. The drink tasted like dirt. I could barely get through three sips. I was miserable.

And the reason I bring this up is because I remember nothing else about this dinner. I have no idea what I ate, if I liked it, if anyone else liked it (though I’m assuming Brian and Courtney did, since they chose the place), all I knew was that I never wanted to go back. And I didn’t. Even when I moved back here a couple of years ago, I refused to go (not that I had a whole lot of offers). But, I work not too far from the place, and a couple of weekends ago we ended up having to work on a Saturday (which is about as much fun as getting kicked in the shins by a 9-year-old girl wearing steel-toed boots), and we decided to grab dinner and continue working. We chose Mambo Grill because it was close by, and no one had any better ideas. It proved to be a wise decision.

Now, for those who don’t know, Mambo Grill is a restaurant that specializes in “authentic Latin food”. And for those who really don’t know, that’s not Latin as in “ad hoc” or “habeas corpus” or “facere amor ad tu volo”, but Latin as in Latin America. So, a mix of Cuban and Brazilian and other countries south of our border.

It had been long enough since my first visit that I was able to clear my memory and give it another shot. When the waitress came by and took our drink order, I didn’t make the same mistake twice. I went with the Mojito, which was delicious. In fact, everyone loved their drinks. Even my boss was happy, and he is very particular about how his drink is made (Grey Goose gimlet, extra cold, served up).

For starters, we ordered the guacamole and some chicken taquitos. Both great choices. The guacamole was fantastic. Super fresh. And the presentation of the chip basket was surprisingly nice. Not that it matters, but I noticed. Along with the quac came some pico de gallo. Now, most pico de gallos taste pretty much the same, but for some reason this one stood out. By the time we devoured all the chips it was a debate as to which was better – the guacamole or the pico de gallo. The winner? Us, since we got to eat them both. And the taquitos were pretty tasty as well. The plate is big enough for 4. And if you’re expecting taquitos like the ones you buy in a box of 100 at Sam’s Club or Cost Co. for five bucks (also known as the “Larry” or the “Dru”), prepare yourself. This is just one giant taquito (or taquitos, I have no idea if you need the “s” or if it makes it plural or what. I really need to take a Spanish class). And it’s tasty.

Total sidebar here. Go to taquitos.net. I just stumbled on this the other day. They review snack and stuff. So far they’ve reviewed over 3,000 snacks. I’m impressed (and that’s saying something). My only complaint is they have yet to try Matt’s Chocolate Chip Cookies – easily the best cookies available on the market (but not sold everywhere).

And we’re back. For dinner I ordered the “Pollo con salsa de coco y limon”, which, in English, means “Chicken that is pretty good but you should probably order something else on the menu.” It’s actually a slow roasted half chicken served on rice. And it’s not that it’s bad, it’s just that the other entrees at the table looked so good (and it’s also a record for the use of the word “it’s” in one sentence). Part of the problem is that it was a half chicken with bones and stuff, so you really had to work to get all the meat. I don’t like working, especially on a Saturday. And when I am working on a Saturday, I really don’t like to have to work on my dinner. I just want to cut a piece, then eat. Cut, then eat. And if I can even avoid the whole cutting thing and just eat, even better.

But, all things aside, I was glad I finally ventured back to Mambo Grill. It’s a solid choice. Not necessarily worth going out of your way for, but definitely will be added into the rotation of places to go for lunch or after work.

I’m torn between a high five with a manly ass slap and a fist bump. I’m gonna go with the high five with a manly ass slap, only because, while it’s good, it’s also not the kind of place that I’ll ever crave or even suggest we go.



Got a question? Send it to born2fork@yahoo.com.

pingpong

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
Fone and fone – 0 stars
Manly ass slap – ½ star



Restaurant: pingpong
Location: 3322 N. Broadway

The great thing about Chicago is there are so many different neighborhoods, and each neighborhood has tons of great places to eat and drink. The bad thing about Chicago is that people don’t venture out of their neighborhoods enough. They stay close to home, which means they miss out on so many great places in this city.

I frequently fall victim to that, but I make an effort to get out and about as much as possible. What’s my point? Well, this review focuses on a little neighborhood joint in East Lakeview that is loved by the locals. It’s called pingpong.

pingpong features pan-Asian food. Quick story. Just the mention of ping-pong reminds me of the movie "Emmanuelle in Singapore". When I was a kid (like 7th or 8th grade), I used to go to a friends house for sleepovers, and every now and then we’d stay up late to watch Skinemax. The only movie I remember was "Emmanuelle in Singapore" and that’s because she did something with ping-pong balls I’d never seen before, and probably won’t ever see again. Unless I go to Tijuana. It was traumatizing. And enlightening. Anyway.

pingpong the restaurant. A friend lives in the area, and recommended it. The first time I went was on a Monday night. He lives nearby, and really liked the place, so I was expecting the best. I didn’t get it.

I ordered the calamari, and it was awful. Truly unenjoyable. I almost didn’t want the dinner, that’s how disappointed I was. For dinner I got the General’s Chicken (easily my favorite Chinese food dish ever. And I’m not even sure it’s authentic to China, but I’m sure my belly doesn’t care.). It’s hard to find great General’s Chicken. And this was no exception. It was for sure below average. I was unhappy. I wanted my money back, but the place is pretty reasonably priced, so there was no point.

The next day I let my friend know about my experience. He was shocked. He might have even gasped and clutched the pearls. He said there was a mistake and demanded that I go back.

Months later, I did. I ordered the exact same thing, and my second helping was much, much better. I told my friend that I was happier this time, but that I still thought the place was just “good” and not “great” or anything. He agreed. See, he liked the place because it was good food, dependable, and close to home. Whenever he need food and just wanted a place that was solid where he’d know he’d be happy, pingpong was one of those places for him. And really, that’s exactly what a neighborhood joint should be.

So, upon further review, I give pingpong a high five with a manly ass slap.

Chicago Pizza and Oven Grinders

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
Fone and fone – 0 stars
Manly ass slap – ½ star



Restaurant: Chicago Pizza and Oven Grinders
Location: 2121 N. Clark


Wait. Wait. Wait. Keep waiting. Just hold on. Wait. Keep waiting. Look at your watch. Look again. Get a drink at the bar (if you can get through the crowd). Drink it. Wait some more. Then, wait just a little bit longer.

That’s what it’s like most nights at Chicago Pizza and Oven Grinders. You wait. I’ve been there a couple of times, and each time the wait was over 30 minutes. So, is it worth the wait? Well, yes and no.

YES.

The place has a lot of history, which is kind of cool. If you read the back of the menu you’ll learn all sorts of neat stuff about the place, none of which I can remember. But, whatever it was, I’m telling you it was kind of cool. Plus, it’s right across the street from where the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre took place. For me, that alone makes it worth the trip. And not really for myself, but for when you have friends or family in from out of town. It’s just one of those neat things that I think tourists appreciate. And you get to eat while appreciating it. Which is nice.

The atmosphere is great. It’s in the basement of an old school brownstone type building. Low ceilings, dim lights, dark wood, tight quarters, limited seating – it’s my kind of place. One time I was there and this couple that was a combined 6,000 pounds barely fit in their seats, and no one could get around their table. They basically trapped the other customers into their seats, and servers struggled to deliver food to everyone’s table. It made me laugh. I like laughing.

The guy who manages the place and takes your name when you arrive is roughly infinity. He never writes your name down or anything, which is kind of cool. He just remembers the order in which people show up and seats them accordingly. Or he has Alzheimer’s and that’s the reason you end up waiting forever to sit. Either way, it’s a nice touch.

The Mediterranean bread. The first time I was there we ordered one. It’s the size of the table. We ate it and then ordered another one to eat before dinner arrived. It’s good. Order it. Then eat it. Then order another one. Then eat that one. Then be happy.

The “pizza”. It’s pretty good, but…

NO

It’s not really pizza. It’s more like a lasagna potpie. And I didn’t know that going in. So, when I ordered the pizza, I was shocked to get this potpie thing. Now, it’s got great presentation, as they pop it out of a bowl and put it on your plate to eat. But, it’s not a pizza. It’s false advertisement. It’s like being the quarterback and going to prom with the head cheerleader then not being allowed to get around first base. They should do a better job of giving you a heads up when you order (and I’m not the first person to mention this). When you dig in, sure it’s pretty good, it’s just not what you’re ready for. The second time I was there I knew what I was getting and I was much happier. But, it’s still not great or anything. It’s just a really interesting way to serve lasagna. One of those things that if you experience it, you’ll be glad you did, but if you don’t, you aren’t missing out on too much and won’t really care that you’re missing out on it.

The grinders. I can’t remember if these were good or not, and I know I’ve ordered one before. So, since I remember nothing about them, that means they couldn’t have been that good (or bad). And since it isn’t memorable, I’ll put it in the “not worth the wait” section.

And really, that’s about it. Great place to take out-of-town guests, if you don’t mind waiting forever. My in laws enjoyed the experience, were lukewarm on the food, and annoyed by the wait. Kind of like me. If I could go there knowing I would never have to wait more than 5 or 10 minutes, I would probably go more often, but since that isn’t the case, I’ll keep my visits to a minimum.

High five with a manly ass slap.

Francesca's Forno

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



Restaurant: Francesca’s Forno
Location: 1576 N. Milwaukee Ave.


Mia Francesca has opened up another restaurant, this time in Wicker Park. Now, sadly I’ve never eaten at Mia Francesca, or any of its 714 offspring. From what I here, Mia Francesca is one of the best places to eat in the city, so, just warning you that my expectations were very high going in. Oh, one more disclaimer. I ate at Forno a week after it opened, when maybe they were still figuring things out. One last thing, you don’t care about any of the things I just mentioned, so on to the review.

Francesca Forno is located on the corner of Milwaukee and Damen (apparently in the old Soul Kitchen spot, where I never ate). Why does this matter? It doesn’t, but it makes for great people watching. The entire place is lined with windows, so when you sit and eat you can stare out of the windows and look at all the people on the streets, which there are many because of the location. This element is key when having dinner with friends who bore you or your in-laws.

The space is pretty cool. I love the décor, as it was super simple, with a hodge-podge of tables and chairs that made you feel like you were at your Italian grandmother’s place. They have it packed in pretty tightly, which I don’t mind, but if you have to go to the bathroom a lot, wear Depends, as getting in and out of your seat is a pain. Also, (and again, this might be because the place is new and hasn’t been fully decorated yet) the place couldn’t have been louder. The tin ceiling, no curtains and wood floors had everything echoing, making it hard to even hear your server.

Speaking of your servers, they are great. Super helpful, extremely nice, and you don’t have to speak Italian to understand what they are saying. We also spent a couple of minutes at the bar, and the bartenders were great. Or they were hitting on me. I’m not sure which.

The bar area is pretty simple, but they do have a small little space next to a big open window where you can sit on the window sill with a friend and enjoy a glass of wine, which is a pretty cool element.

But you don’t care about any of this. So, let’s talk about the food. Overall, it was very average. Again, they had just opened when I went there. Not trying to make excuses, but I expected better.

The apps were hit or miss. The prosciutto was awesome. Served on its own (I like it with melon, personally), it was cooked perfectly, and I had two giant pieces. It reminded me of bacon, which may have been why I loved it. We also got something they called cheese fondue, but it was essentially potatoes with a cream sauce over it. Kind of tasted like potato skins, and very average potato skins.

The entrées were also hit or miss, and mostly miss. The good was the Naked Ravioli. It’s basically ravioli stuffing minus the pasta shell. It’s also basically one of the best things I’ve ever eaten. Seriously. Drizzled with olive oil, I ate half of it, and I wasn’t even the one who ordered it.

But it went down hill from there. I got some sort of fish. Can’t even remember what it was, that’s how forgettable it was. Someone else at the table got a different fish, and it was also pretty tasteless. Someone got this squid infused pasta. Now, I love fish, and even I had a tough time eating it. It was so incredibly fishy. I think it would have made a perfect side item, where you could enjoy one or two bites (which were really good) but would run out before you ate three or more bites (when you wanted to scrape your tongue with a piece of bread).

Oh, I almost forgot, they had the best butter. I’m a huge bread and butter guy. You could say it’s my bread and butter. Kind of like not being funny. Anyway, the butter was a jalapeno something-or-other. We ate two huge baskets of bread because of the butter. And when I say we, I mean me.

The other pleasant surprise was the prices. Really, really reasonable, but it was BYOB when I was there (which it won’t always be).

I guess that’s about it. Not sure where I stand on this place. I was very disappointed, but also satisfied enough to go back and give it another shot because of all the circumstances (just opened, etc…). They are planning on changing their menu every two to three weeks, which is also intriguing.

For now, until I go for a second time and make a more educated decision, I’m gonna give it a high-five with a manly ass slap.

Until next time, keep eating.