Tuesday, December 04, 2007

Everyday Gourmet

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: Everyday Gourmet
Location: 1216 Waukegan Road, Glenview, IL


When I knew I was going to have a kid I thought, “No sweat. It won’t change my life that much. I’ll still have plenty of time to do the things I want to do.” Any father (or parent) out there is giggling like a schoolgirl right now. That’s because they knew having a kid does change your life. Completely. (Some would say it doesn’t change your life – it ends it. But we’re splitting hairs here.) So my free time has been more limited than I thought it would be. Sure, I still have time to eat. A lot. But now I just don’t find as much time to write about it. I apologize. To all four of you reading this.

Anyway, my friends Denny and Megan got married a couple of weeks ago, and the wedding and reception were at A New Leaf on Wells in Olde Towne (or is it Old Town? I feel like I always see it as “Old Town”, but if it were really old then wouldn’t it have the bizarre spelling with the “e” at the end of each word? Should I even care?). Here are my quick-hit thoughts on the event:

- A New Leaf is a great venue for an event. It’s small enough to feel cool and intimate, but big enough with a cool floor plan to allow everyone to spread out so you’re not on top of each other. Plus they have an outdoor area that wasn’t even open, which looked really cool as well. If you’re having an event for 150 people or less, it’s worth checking out.
- When you’re wife is wearing a dress and heels, making her walk five blocks in the cold and extreme wind is not a good idea. Unless you don’t want to have sex. Then it’s a great idea.
- Denny and Megan only had hors d’oeuvres for the reception, which terrified me. Especially since I didn’t have time to eat before the wedding. No way it would be enough food for me, let alone the other people at the event, right?
- A New Leaf doesn’t serve food, so you have to bring in an outside caterer. Denny and Megan went with Everyday Gourmet.
- I love open bars. They involve the words “booze” and “free” (not necessarily in that order). All-you-can-drink free drinks combined with hors d’oeuvres leads to, well, you can guess. Mostly bad things.
- The Chicken Chipotle on Tortilla Chip with Avocado and Crème was great. I had at least three of these. Not my favorite HD (hors d’oeuvres, which is an extremely hard word to type) of the night, but it was a nice change of pace. Felt like chips and dip, except someone did all the work of dipping for you, so all you had to do was take the chip and eat it.
- Bowties are making a comeback. Take my word for it.
- The other problem with being a dad and not getting a chance to write as often as I want is that sometimes I forget things that I ate. So some of this recap is my best guess.
- I loved the Virginia Crab Cakes with Roasted Red Pepper Lime Aioli. They were really easy to eat, kind of filling, but light enough that you could quickly down two or three before the HD lady tried to walk away so other guests could get a taste. I had somewhere between 8 and 14 of these. And that’s only because they stopped bringing them out.
- I was on the treadmill the other day (no joke) watching TV and listening to my iPod (which is this cool little device that stores all your music in “digital” form. That’s right, no more Walkman strapped to your arm and 12 cassette tapes stored in your fanny pack while you workout. They’re really convenient, these iPods. You should think about getting one.) when an iPod commercial came on. I really couldn’t believe my eyes. How the hell did Victoria Beckham (a.k.a. Posh Spice) get her own iPod commercial? Was it because the Spice Girls were getting ready to tour again? Did she have a new solo album out I didn’t know about? I really was amazed. And a little bit impressed. Maybe she did have some talent I wasn’t aware of. Then the end of the commercial comes on and it says, “Mary J Blige Work That”. My jaw dropped. Um, what? What happened to Mary J Blige? She used to be the Queen of Hip Hop Soul. And now she’s ripping off Posh Spice’s look so bad that when you silhouette the two of them you can’t tell ‘em apart. I had to watch the commercial again (on youtube.com, which is a website filled with tons and tons of videos. Again, if you haven’t checked it out, you should) just to see if my eyes failed me. They hadn’t. Not only that but Blige was just about as skinny as Posh. I’m not sure what to make of Mary J anymore. Do I give her a mulligan? Was it a coincidence? Or did Mary J try to make herself look like a white pop chick from England? I can’t talk about it anymore. Every time the commercial comes on I get sick.
- If someone sends you a video called “2 Girls, 1 Cup”, don’t watch it. Even if your life depends on it. You’ll never eat again.
- The first thing I ate that night were the Phyllo Purses filled with Spinach and Feta Cheese (or was it the Artichoke Hearts on Toasted Bread Round with Parmesan & Onion? I can’t be sure. I just know that it tasted a lot like spinach and artichoke dip, which is a good thing.). I loved ‘em. I think I had five on the first two passes. Then I started going out of my way to find them. Luckily there were plenty. Either people feel bad eating a lot of free food (though they don’t feel bad drinking a lot of free booze) or I’m extremely fat. It’s one or the other. Or both. Either way I got my fill. If I ate less than 14 I’d be shocked.
- Thank god the Bears god rid of their Defensive Coordinator and their #1 running back. All Ced Benson had proved in his (brief) time as a Bear was that he wasn’t that durable, wasn’t that quick, wasn’t that fast, and didn’t hit holes that well. Why not make him the #1 back? Oh, and I was really pumped up about Adam Archuleta. A safety that can’t cover anyone but is known for being a big hitter. Except that he’s missed about every tackle he’s attempted this year. They are almost unwatchable right now.
- And the Bulls. Yikes. I still think they’ll be OK (they never play well in November), but I’m concerned. I was thinking a #3 seed in the East. Now I’m hoping for a #7 or #8 seed.
- The Seared Scallops on Cucumber Round were also enjoyable. Scallops are a lot like pork chops in my opinion. 90% of the time they’re good, fine, enjoyable, etc… 8% of the time they are holy-crap good. And the other 2% they’re terrible. These fell in the 90% range. Nothing special, but good enough that I enjoyed about five of them.
- I think there was another HD that I can’t remember. Maybe a tuna something? Maybe served on a radish slice? I can’t remember. Probably says a lot about whether or not it was any good.
- I’ve never seen anyone dance like Denny’s brother, Tim. His legs did things I’ve never seen before. From now on he’ll be known as Licorice Legs, whether he likes it or not.
- I think he gets it from his mom, who was tearing up the dance floor at will.
- And Marty’s enthusiasm on the dance floor can’t be matched. Moves pretty good for a big man.
- I hate Joakim Noah. Can’t explain it. No reason other than looking at him makes me want to punch him in the face. I feel the same way about Brian Cardinal.
- The last HDs of the night were the “sliders”. I feel like every place calls mini cheeseburgers/hamburgers “sliders” now. Let’s get one thing clear, the only “sliders” are from White Castle, and their called “Slyders”. Now that we’ve cleared that up, lets get back to the mini burgers at the reception. Were they good? Were they great? Were they terrible? Well, I was somewhere between 8 and 52 drinks into the night, so as far as I’m concerned they were the best things I’d ever eaten. All five of them.
- There is nothing more fun than doing the Soulja Boy to Kelly Clarkson’s “Since You’ve Been Gone”. It just works.
- The dessert buffet was done by Bittersweet. There was a lot of chocolate. It was good. I was happy. And they had mint Whoppers (well, probably Whopper impersonators, but still good. And I mean the candy, not the burger), which I’ve never had. And I couldn’t stop eating them. We even got a little parting gift which was a small box filled with them.
- I was terrified that the HDs weren’t going to be enough. And they weren’t. They were more than enough.


Everyday Gourmet gets a solid Chest Tap. A New Leaf gets a Chest Bump. Alcohol gets a half handshake, half chest bump hug.



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

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Thursday, October 18, 2007

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.

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Wednesday, July 11, 2007

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.

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Thursday, August 17, 2006

Lollapalooza

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: Lollapalooza
Location: Grant Park


This past weekend I checked out Lollapalooza. Now, when Lollapalooza first started back in ’91 it was a traveling show that featured some of the biggest acts of the summer. For the first couple of years it was the must-attend concert event of the year. Then the acts started getting smaller and smaller in name, the whole thing lost it cache, and it eventually went away. But then they had a genius idea – don’t bring the music to the people, bring the people to the music. Or something like that. Instead of traveling across the country with one or two headliners and a couple small acts, why not set up shop in one place and have a ton of headliners, then let the people come to you. It really wasn’t that original of a concept. Years ago they had something called “Woodstock”. And I’m not talking about the Pepsi sponsored one back in the ‘90s. I’m talking about the one where chicks mud wrestling first became popular. And more recently festivals like Bonnaroo have become the place to be, so it made sense to use a recognizable event like Lollapalooza and make it a bigger, one-weekend only festival. And rather than have it in the middle of Tennessee, why not have it in a big city like Chicago. And better yet, why not in Grant Park, so visitors can hear great music while standing underneath the massive skyline and have easy access to the city when the music is done playing. Last year it was a huge success, despite the 100-plus degree weather and people willing to do unmentionable things for a bottle of water. So I decided to head down and check it out this year.

On Friday I started off with The Subways. No real reason why. I’d heard good things, and it was better than staying at work. Nothing spectacular, but they had a good sound, a bass player who was female with great energy and a sexy Irish accent, and a drummer who may have been left handed and didn’t use a full drum set. Why do I know this? Because my buddy Geoff kept pointing things out like, “The drummer is lefty. You can tell because the so-and-so is on the left side. Oh, and he isn’t using a such-and-such and only has one thingamajig.” At some point I asked him, “How do you know all this?” And he pointed out that the better question would be, “Why do you care?” I didn’t. But a decent show. From there we headed over to check out Aqualung.

Now, as the guy is coming out, Geoff gives me a quick history of Aqualung, who I knew little about. The lead singer plays the piano and writes all the music. He basically is Aqualung, though he has some back-up musicians, including his brother on guitar. And when Matt (the lead singer) steps out, he looks like he might be 18, but Geoff quickly points out that he’s actually 40-something. I’m speechless, but manage to tell Geoff “no way”. But he tells me it’s true. Turns out the guy is only 34. Great story, huh? Doesn’t change the fact that it was a great show. Great music, good banter with the crowd, and one of the songs is even played on the radio all the time, which makes it even more embarrassing that I didn’t know who Aqualung was. My only complaint is that Beetle Bob was in the wings dancing. Having lived in St. Louis I’ve seen Beetle Bob many, many times. I don’t like him. It’s that simple. And to see him at Lollapalooza, dancing on stage never the less, infuriated me. Unfortunately it wasn’t the last time I was going to see him this weekend.

From there we headed over to see the eels, partly because it was the closest stage and partly because I wanted to check them out. I haven’t listened to a ton of eels stuff, but the stuff I have heard I’ve enjoyed. By this time Spoon and Bagger had showed up, so the four of us grabbed a seat on the grass and relaxed as the eels started up. Again, none of the other three guys has heard anything about the eels, but as they started playing their first song, Geoff excitedly screamed, “I know this song. It’s the first song on the O.C. Soundtrack, Volume 2.” I’m not even sure what else to say about that. Anyway, we listened to a couple of songs, and headed over to Panic! At the Disco, stopping at Ohmega Watts on the way. Nothing special at Panic, and Ohmega was OK. Also heard that Ohmega was great opening up for Blackalicious and Lyrics Born later that night.

Geoff, Bagger, Spoon, and myself all play on the same hoops team, and Geoff and Spoon are also in a band together (Doko Benjo). So the question comes up, “Would you rather be a star musician or a star basketball player?” Well, the debate lasted much longer than it probably should have. We started getting into what kind of basketball player (Jordan, successful role player, scrub, etc…) and what kind of musician (The Stones, or a band that is good and making a living but not selling out huge venues (Nada Surf or Aqualung or someone like that) or someone with a big following and making a living but not necessarily nationally recognized (Umphrey McGee’s)). Then you have to take into account life span, and that musicians can play for many, many years (or decades, if you’re the Stones) while NBA players do have a shelf life and a limited time to make a living playing ball. Anyway, I think we netted out that the NBA player and musician needed to be comparable. If the NBA guy is a role player who is successful (Bruce Bowen, for example, who started off as a defensive stopper, won some championship rings, and now is on the USA National Team (though he just got cut before the worlds) and will always be playing in the NBA and getting paid OK until he just can’t move anymore), then you’d have to pick the musician equivalent (maybe CeeLo, for example, who started off with Goodie Mobb, then did some solo work, with a hit song “Closet Freak”, and now is with Gnarls Barkley with THE hit song of the year). Since you’re already bored, I’ll cut to the chase. I chose NBA, mostly because I would just enjoy playing basketball everyday. The other guys were on the fence but went with musician.

Now, after Panic! was done we had an hour to kill until the Iron and Wine show, because we had no desire to see any of the bands playing in the 3:30 to 4:30 time frame. By this time I was ready to pass out I was so hungry, and everyone else was feeling the same way. So we headed over to some of the food tents. I went and got an Italian beef, which was fine, but after seeing the rib sandwich that Spoon and Bagger got from Fireside, I was jealous. Plus, Geoff got some tacos at the Adobo tent that also looked great, though he said they tasted like salt with some pork flavoring. The more I though about it, the madder I got about the Italian beef. Should have gotten the rib sandwich. I could get a decent beef anywhere in the city. Oh well.

On the bright side I felt the prices at Lolla were surprisingly cheap. A 16 oz. beer was only five bucks, and most of the sandwiches and food options were five to six bucks. You could pretty much eat and drink all day for $60 or less, which is great at a festival like this.

After it took all of us roughly 30 seconds to eat our food, we decided we were all still hungry. We decided to head towards Iron and Wine and check out the food tents on that side of the park. And it was a wasted walk. Nothing over there was nearly as compelling as a rib sandwich or pork tacos, so everyone decided to hold off for another rib sandwich.

We checked out Iron and Wine, which was fine, except a little slow and chill, and at that time in the day I really needed a pick me up. By the way, Ryan Adams is a douche. Everyone has one hour to play, and everyone is really, really good about being done on time, since the other band can’t start playing until the previous band is done. Well, Iron and Wine was standing on stage, waiting to start, and Ryan Adams just kept playing. And kept playing. And then it was awkward. And then Iron and Wine left the stage. And he kept playing. And then he finally stopped about 15 minutes late. Then Iron and Wine was finally able to play. And I will never listen to Ryan Adams again, which should be easy, cause I never listened to him before. And I know why. Spoon and I bolted and headed over to meet Bagger to check out the Raconteurs while Geoff opted for My Morning Jacket. Now, we of course stopped by the food tents again, and while I knew I should have gotten a rib sandwich, as my stomach wanted, I instead decided to get a snow cone, since I thought something cold would be refreshing. It, of course, was terrible, and I was a second away from kicking Spoon in the groin and taking the rest of his second rib sandwich. Instead I just threw out my snow cone.

The Raconteurs were great. The high-energy act I needed to get me back in the mood. Plus they did a cover of Gnarls Barkley’s “Crazy” that was awesome, and made even better because Gnarls Barkley was going to be there the next day to perform it. Jack White knows what he’s doing. In two great bands, amazing musician and songwriter, and married an extremely hot model. This convinced me that I made the wrong pick. I quickly informed Spoon that I’d go with “musician” over “NBA player”. I would have also informed Bagger, but he was being attacked and molested by the most unattractive girl at all of Lolla. Poor guy. If I wasn’t busy enjoying the show, I might have saved him. But then again, I didn’t want to risk her talking to me. Neither did Spoon, so we thought it was best to separate ourselves a bit and walk a couple feet away. Crisis averted. Except for Bagger.

From there we headed back over to the other side to relax and get some seats for Death Cab for Cutie, which was our last show of the night.

Of course we stopped at the food tents on the way over, and got the saddest news ever – Fireside was out of French rolls, so they were serving their rib sandwiches on hot dog buns. Of course I’m not going to eat a rib sandwich off a hot dog bun. That’s ridiculous. So I just got a smoothie. The smoothie was great and refreshing and all that crap, but the whole day all I wanted was a rib sandwich and I never got one. I vowed not to make the same mistake the next day.

On the way to Death Cab we made one more stop, convincing everyone to get a vegan ice cream sandwich from Bleeding Heart Bakery. I love me some Bleeding Heart Bakery, but even I was weary of a vegan ice cream sandwich. I mean, how good can ice cream be, or chocolate cookies for that matter, if cows have nothing to do with the ingredients involved. Turns out they weren’t that bad. My only real complaint is that the cookies were way to hard. For a good ice cream sandwich you need the cookies to be super soft, so your teeth cut right through and get to the ice cream. When the cookies are too hard/frozen, you end up mashing the ice cream and making a mess and the whole thing becomes too much work. Which was the case with these vegan versions. But again, for something that had soy and was organic, not bad at all.

And Death Cab for Cutie was pretty enjoyable as well. Even ran into Greg and Kirsten. That was important because it meant we had five of the seven guys from our basketball team there, so if a pickup game broke out, we had our squad to run the court.

I do want to mention that we checked out Umphrey’s McGhee, which has a huge Chicago following. On the way there a guy was in a dead sprint and someone screamed, “Where are you going?” and he screamed back, “To see the Umph!” The Umph? I never had seen them play, but I was pretty sure I now hated them. And after listening to them for five minutes I realized I did hate them. Well, not hate, but I didn’t understand the difference between them and the Freddy Jones Band. We listened to one song and went for more food.

And that was just Friday.


On Saturday I headed down to meet my friend Steve, who was in town with his wife, Nichole. On the cab ride over Nichole sliced a 12-inch gash open on her leg. Now, blood wasn’t running down her leg or anything, but it didn’t look good. We started off by checking out Nada Surf, who were great. After about 20 minutes or so we decided that it was past noon, and thus appropriate to get a beer. Even the beer vendor noticed the wound and said we should go to the first aid tent, which was “right over there”. So we did, thinking she’d get cleaned up and receive a band-aid or something. We were wrong. They recommended she go to the hospital. Not later that night, not the next day, but right then and there. Steve kind of chuckled and said, “Seriously?” Well, the EMT was angry and snapped, “Lockjaw is no laughing matter!” Nicole had to sign a document saying she refused medical treatment. It was a huge process that was also very ridiculous. By the time we were done Nada Surf was about finished, so we headed across the way to hear The GO! Team, maybe my favorite act of the entire weekend. Just a ton of energy, fun to watch, good music, made my head bob, and kept me entertained for 60 minutes. Of course I’ve listened to the album since and it’s not the same. So, don’t buy the album, but if they’re in your town, see them play. My only complaint was that Beetle Bob got to introduce them AND danced on stage with the lead singer for the last 10 minutes. I really hate Beetle Bob. Even more than the guy who said “The Umph”.

On our way to check out Lyrics Born two great things happened. 1) Spoon and I stopped and got a rib sandwich. SOOOOOO good. 2) We stumbled across Peeping Tom, who had a guy on stage beat boxing. And he was really, really, really good. So good in fact that Geoff said, “That dude’s as good as Rahzel.” (If you’re not following, Spoon met me at The GO! Team, Steve and Nichole left to go check out another show, and Spoon and I then met up with Geoff.) After a couple of minutes of tearing it up the lead singer of Peeping Tom said, “Give it up for Rahzel!” It was him. Not sure what the hell he was doing with Peeping Tom, but it was still a nice surprise.

When they were done Lyrics Born played. Now, I’m a big fan, and I’ve seen him before at the Abbey. And he puts on a great show. And I do love his music. But I thought he was disappointing. Every other sentence was either about him being from the Bay area, or asking us to scream “Yeah” or “Hell Yeah”. We cut out early to make sure we got to the Gnarls Barkley show in time.

And of course on the way Spoon and I stopped to get another rib sandwich. So I go up and order a rib sandwich, and the girl says, “Again?” And she said it in a semi-snotty, semi-serious, semi-joking way. It was pretty funny. And hurtful. It reminded me of a couple of Halloween’s ago when I dressed up like Michael Phelps. I wore big, fake ears, some swim goggles, a gold medal, and Speedos. And that was it. (Just so you know, it was cold outside, so I did have a blue, USA-like warm-up jacket for when I had to be outside.) So, I was at Tin Lizzy’s with some friends, and this girl comes up to me and asks, “So what are you supposed to be? Besides fat.” It was hilarious. You could tell she was trying to be mean (I think she was mad because girls use Halloween as an excuse to dress slutty and get attention, and they get mad when a guy does something to steal that attention away) but I didn’t find it mean at all. I thought it was funny. The kind of thing that one of my friends (specifically Dru or Tony or Ricky or Dre) would say to me. And because I found it so funny she got even madder and walked away. Back to Lolla. After the girl made the comment she was close to getting a slap to the baby-maker, but the rib sandwich distracted me. And it was delicious. Again. My real question is why didn’t she call out Spoon (other than the obvious fact that she wanted to sleep with me)? This was his FIFTH rib sandwich in two days. It was only my second, yet I’m the one getting made fun of. I told her Lockjaw was no laughing matter. She must of agreed cause she didn’t laugh.

When we got to Gnarls we were frightened. Just a sea of people. Probably the most crowded show I saw all weekend. It was crazy (no pun intended). And they put on a pretty good show. First off, they were wearing all white tennis outfits. In fact, even if they didn’t play a song I would have already been more than happy. But they did play music, and play it well they did. And CeeLo was joking with the crowd, telling stories, asking girls to show their titties, and all that good stuff. What I like about CeeLo is that he understands that he is an entertainer. He isn’t there just to walk through the songs and move on. He is there to put on a show. And he did. And Gnarls did. And it was good.

Instead of trying to run and see Blackalicious, we decided to just move close to the stage and camp out for an hour to catch Common. Gave me a chance to lie down and nap off all those rib sandwiches.

I thought Common was great. The only problem was that my wife’s family was in town, so I had to jet to go meet them, meaning I had to leave Common half way through, and miss Kanye and Sunday’s entire lineup. Not cool.

Of course Amy’s brother-in-law (and my brother-in-law, I guess) enjoy the same thing – doing nothing. So the rest of the weekend was spent either on the couch, eating, or drinking beer.

If you’ve read this far, I’m amazed. Here’s a quick recap, since you most likely blacked out somewhere after the third paragraph.




FRIDAY
The Subways – High five
Aqualung – Chest Bump
Beetle Bob – Fone and fone
eels - Handshake
Panic! at the Disco – High five
Ohmega Watts – Fist bump
Umphrey’s McGhee – the Umph, if you will. Manly ass slap.
Iron and Wine – High five with a manly ass slap.
The Raconteurs – Chest bump with a manly ass slap.
Death Cab for Cutie – Chest bump.

SATURDAY
Nada Surf – Fist bump
The Go! Team – Half handshake, half chest-bump hug. But like I said, their album is more like a High Five.
Rahzel – Chest bump
Peeping Tom – Handshake with a manly ass slap
Lyrics Born – Fist bump
Gnarls Barkley – Chest bump with a manly ass slap
Common – Chest bump

SUNDAY
Didn’t get to go. – Fone and fone.

FOOD
Smoothie – Chest bump
Rib sandwich - HJ
Italian beef – Handshake
Ice cream cookie – Fist bump
Snow cone – Manly ass slap (even though there’s nothing manly about eating a snow cone)
Guacamole and Chips (that I sampled from Geoff) – Chest bump

The 28 miles I walked back and forth from stage to stage over two days – Fone and fone.

Lollapalooza – priceless (chirp)


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

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Friday, May 12, 2006

Spiaggia

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: Spiaggia
Location: 980 N. Michigan Ave.


“Spiaggia don’t lie.”

So Geoff and I are sitting down, eating our dinner, and we’ve both been a little over served. After about two bites of his entrée, he turns to me and slurs, “I want to scribe the first line of your review.” Then he took a dramatic pause. “Spiaggia don’t lie. Spiaggia don’t lie.” He makes a good point. Spiaggia don’t lie.

I know what you’re asking yourself. Why in the hell were you and Geoff eating dinner together at Spiaggia? It’s not exactly the kind of place you and a friend go to and grab a bite to eat. Well, friends of ours from high school got married, and the reception was at Spiaggia. Now, my wife couldn’t attend because of a prior commitment, and Geoff’s wife couldn’t attend because he isn’t married or dating anybody. So, we went together. Which worked out great because they had an open bar and Geoff’s been known to put out after he’s had one-to-many. And I was in luck, because he had about nine-to-many.

The wedding was a beautiful Catholic wedding that only lasted about thirty minutes. Most Catholic weddings are a full service, lasting at least an hour. So anytime a Catholic wedding is only thirty minutes it becomes a beautiful Catholic wedding. After the wedding we drove down to Geoff’s place, which is around Grand and Ogden. We had an hour to kill before the reception started, and it was nice out, so we thought it would be a good idea to walk to Spiaggia from there. He didn’t really look at the invite, so he had no idea where it was, and I was convinced that it was on the 600 block of N. Michigan. So we figured we’d hustle straight down Grand, cut over to Ohio, and be there in plenty of time. The walk was nice. We talked. We laughed. We made every girl we saw feel so uncomfortable she would cross the street to avoid us. It was great. So, we hit Michigan Ave., looked around, and had no idea where this place was. We walked around for a couple of blocks, calling everyone we know and asking doormen and people on the street where the place was. Nobody had a clue. Finally I walked into the Coach store and pleasantly approached a couple of the ladies working there. “Do either of you know where Spiaggia is?” The first girl looked blank. Never heard of it. The second girl looked annoyed, “You mean Spagga?” correcting my pronunciation as she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it’s down at 900 N. Michigan,” she said and turned to walk away. Thanks for the help. And by the way, bitch, it’s Spiaggia where I come from.

OK, so now we’re at the reception, drinks are flowing, I’m catching up with old friends, all is well. Then we see someone walking around with an appetizer tray, and I get a little excited. Then I see the tray. It’s filled with spoons, and each spoon has a tiny appetizer on it. Now I’m nervous that I’m gonna have to go to McDonald’s after dinner just so I don’t starve to death. I take the spoon, which has a small piece of artichoke on it, and devour it. Great. Eventually another tray comes around with more spoons, but these have prosciutto. Also great. Looking back it was genius. Just a tiny, tiny sample that whet my appetite and left me wanting more. Brilliant.

So we sit down for dinner and toast the happy couple with a glass of champagne. Just then our buddy Andres, aka Ronnie Physical, comes running over and puts everything in perspective for us. “I had no idea how nice this place was. They got white people serving the water.”

For starters we all got the Mozzarella di bufala con pomodori, cipolle, e pepperoni. Which is Italian for good-ass salad. And not the kind of good-ass salad you get in prison. This was basically a caprese salad with buffalo mozzarella, drizzled with olive oil and accented with a couple of vegetables. It was fantastic.

Next was the Ravioletti di formagella, which was ravioli filled with goat cheese and covered with a sauce that had a strong olive taste. I don’t really like olives, and the sauce was heavy on the olive flavoring. But even so, it was still really good, it just wouldn’t have been my first choice. And if I go back I probably wouldn’t get it again, but that’s just me.

And now came the entrée. I went with the fish. Normally at a wedding I go with the meat, because the fish is almost always salmon, and I don’t like salmon. But the fish tonight was Swordfish (Pesce spada alla costa assura to be exact) and I couldn’t pass it up. And I’m glad I didn’t. While the steak looked great, the fish was the perfect dish. Great flavor to it and perfectly cooked. My fork effortlessly cut through the large portion and tore off each piece. And I love the way fish can fill you up but doesn’t sit heavy in your stomach, which is good when you’ve had three drinks and are on your fifth glass of wine and your date for the night keeps putting his hand on your knee (not that I was complaining).

After dinner I noticed Ronnie Physical holding two cups of some fancy coffee. I went over and discovered that out in the lobby area they had a guy making espresso drinks. So, I strolled out there and got Geoff and me a couple of cappuccinos. When I brought it back to the table Geoff lit up. I’m no coffee expert. I brew it every morning, I know I like it strong, and I know I like Intelligentsia. But that’s about as much as I know. Geoff, on the other hand, is a bit of a coffee expert. Well, espresso really. And after one sip he turned to me and said, “Wow, this is perfect.” So that means they know what they’re doing. Then he touched my knee again. This was going well.

Dessert came and was a chocolate multi-layer cake served with a small side of ice cream. Guess what? It was also great. It was also at this time that Mr. M, (Two Moons Mathismo’s dad) was talking to our buddy Cornell who lives in New York. Cornell was inviting him out to visit, and Mr. Mathis responded by saying, “I know, I know. But I got to figure out what to do with my wife. You know you don’t bring sand to the beach.” Maybe it was the 1.3 blood alcohol level, but I couldn’t stop laughing.

As dinner wound down the music wound up, which allowed Geoff to do some Crip Walking and me to drop the Skateboard on fools. And that was that. Geoff and I danced the night away to the sounds of Stevie Wonder, Bel Biv Devoe, Bobby Brown, and more. We stumbled out of there at 1 a.m., but rumor has it the rest of the crowd danced until 3, as the staff stood there crossing there arms and hoping the night would be over sooner than later.

Just a great night overall. There’s nothing better than catching up with friends you don’t get to see often enough. And there’s also nothing better than Geoff’s goodnight kiss, which is the perfect blend between passion and compassion. Thanks Geoff.

Spiaggia was great. And if the wedding menu we were served is this good, I can only imagine how good the full menu is in the dinning room. But, until I actually eat in the actual restaurant, I can only give Spiaggia a chest bump with a manly ass slap. But I’m sure it would get a perfect score on my next visit. Stay tuned.



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

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