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.

Who's Now - San Fran vs. St. Louis

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



We’re going to answer the most definitive question of our generation: Who’s NOW: St. Louis vs. San Francisco.


(Yes, I realize this joke is about a month too late, but I just had a kid (OK, I didn’t have the kid, my wife did, but I was there) so it took me a little longer than it should have to post this.)


The Case for St. Louis

It’s St. Louis, so you don’t have to travel far to find a strip mall filled with Outback, Ruby Tuesday, Applebee’s, and other crappy chain restaurants (although I actually do like Outback, but that’s beside the point). Last time I was down there we were out in Chesterfield playing some dodgeball at Sky Zone. Sky Zone is a place where they just have fields of trampolines. So a game of dodgeball involves jumping around on a bunch of trampolines and throwing stuff at people. You haven’t lived until you’ve played it. You also haven’t felt extremely old until you’ve played it. After 15 minutes I thought I was going to pass out. After 20 I thought I was going to puke. At the 25 minute mark I got pegged in the family jewels and almost did puke. By the end I think I lost about 30 lbs and tore roughly 14 ligaments. I couldn’t have been happier. Well, Sky Zone is located in a strip mall. A strip mall in Chesterfield, MO, no less. What’s that mean? Well, let me give you a rundown of restaurant options: Applebee’s, Bob Evans, Fox & Hound, LongHorn, IHOP, O’Charley’s, Olive Garden, Qdoba, Red Lobster, Red Robin, Joe’s Crab Shack, and you get the idea. It was like a smorgasborg of crappy restaurants. Well, when in Rome (or, unfortunately, Chesterfield). We decided on Applebee’s for a quick bite and some cold beer. Here’s the good news – the beer was cold (I know for sure, because my label turned blue). Here’s the bad news – the food. I haven’t been to an Applebee’s in a very, very long time. For some reason in college I remember liking it. But looking back, I think it was because in college I considered it a “nice” restaurant that I could afford. Oh how naïve I was. Now, I know better. At least I like to think I do. We had the con queso, which was OK, but how can you really screw up melted cheese? We also ordered a couple of quesadillas for the table, which were pretty awful. Let’s put it this way, I had a slice, and when offered another slice, I passed. Have you ever heard of me passing on seconds? Exactly. I also got the chicken Caesar salad (I’ll admit, a boring choice on my part, so I’ll take some of the blame) which was awful. The chicken was horrible. Very dry with no flavor. It tasted like it was pre-made and poured out of a bag. Probably because it was pre-made and poured out of a bag. The onion rings were OK, but they’re fried, so it’s hard to screw them up.

Let me tell you a little something about a place called Il Vicino. When I was living in St. Louis this place opened up, and I thought it was the cat’s meow (there’s also a bar in St. Louis called The Cat’s Meow that I thought was a strip club. Turns out it wasn’t. Too bad.). It was the first place making traditional wood-oven Pizza that I had ever heard of. And when I was living there we went all the time and I really did love it. But after living in Chicago for a number of years, and checking out all the traditional wood-oven pizza places here, I’ve realized I was wrong about Il Vicino. I think what happened was that St. Louis offers St. Louis-style pizza everywhere (which is like tomato sauce on a cracker topped with Provel cheese), with Imo’s being the most popular. And I really don’t like it. At all. So just the fact that I had another pizza option fooled me into thinking Il Vicino was good. I went back recently and had it and realized it really isn’t that good.

By the way, things aren’t looking good for St. Louis so far. That being said, let’s talk about some of the good things going on down there.

First, there’s Max ‘n’ Ryna’s Deli. You won’t find it on a map. You won’t find it in a phone book. And there isn’t a sign telling you that you have found it once you do find it. That’s because it’s my buddy Dave’s mom and dad. They can cook. We stopped by for breakfast on our way through town a couple of months ago and it was stupid how good the food was. And it wasn’t like they even made anything that fancy. Just some eggs over-easy cooked perfectly (and I mean perfectly), and some biscuits, which were by far the best biscuits I’ve ever (ever) had. I don’t know if they made them from scratch or not, but either way he did something to them to make them amazing. And you had choices for a topping. Butter, jelly, pineapple spread, etc… After we were done we sat outside on the patio and stared in amazement at all the pinwheels his mom has in the backyard. After a couple of hours of chatting we had to be on our way. But of course we weren’t leaving empty handed. Ryna had made some brisket and made us sandwiches to take with us on the train. I was eating a cold left-over brisket sandwich while riding the Amtrak and it was one of the most delicious sandwiches I can remember eating. Just perfectly cooked brisket, white bread, and some mayo. And she packed some cookies for us as well. There’s nothing better than a home-cooked meal. That, and we were hung over, which may have made everything seem better than it really was. I can’t be sure.

Second, the best Dairy Queen you’ll ever visit. It’s at exit 41 (off highway 55) in Staunton, IL. I don’t know why it’s the best. It just is. I think it’s simply the fact that when they make a blizzard they don’t skimp on the candy. I’ve taken several friends there (including some who shall remain nameless who have tried to pass along the info to other friend’s and claim that they were the ones who discovered it. Which isn’t true. My wife did on a road trip with an ex-boyfriend.) and I’ve never, ever had a complaint. In fact, several of those friends now stop there anytime they pass it. Just trust me, if you’re in the area, give it a shot. My reco is a Reece’s Pieces and M&M’s Blizzard.

Third, you’ll find the best cheese fries you’ll ever (and I mean ever) eat. And they can only be found in St. Louis. I’ve stated before that I consider cheese fries one of my favorite foods. Easily in my top five, if not my #1 (I think my top 5 would break out like this: cheese fries, Matt’s chocolate chip cookies, pizza (any kind except St. Louis style and Il Vicino), hot dogs, and pickles.). The place to find the greatest cheese fries in the world? Tropicana Lanes. That’s right, a bowling alley. Is there anything better than beer, bowling, and cheese fries? When I was living down there we would go bowling once a week, and Ricky and I would always bet an order of cheese fries on every game. So not only were the cheese fries delicious, there were also free about 90% of the time.

Well, that’s a sample of what St. Louis is bringing to the table. So let’s check in and see what San Fran is rockin’.





The Case for San Francisco

I had a friend who lived in San Fran a couple of years ago for about a year, so I took that opportunity (free place to stay) to visit the city, which I hadn’t been to since grade school when my parents took us there for a couple days on the way back from Hawaii (yes, my parents took us to Hawaii when we were waaaaay too young to appreciate it, but I digress. And complain.). My two favorite places that I went to during that trip were Mel’s Drive-In and Sam’s Anchor Café.

I was there on a Friday (arrived Thursday night) and Tony (my buddy) had to work. So I had a couple of hours to kill and decided to walk around the city. He lived by Nob Hill or Russian Hill or Telegraph Hill. Let’s call it Nob Hill for our purposes. I ended up walking from his place all the way to Golden Gate Park, around the park, and then back to his place. I’m gonna let you in on a little secret – if you want to go for a long walk, picking the hilliest city in America isn’t the best idea. But my calves also look amazing because of it, so I can’t complain too much.

On the way back I was starving and decided to get some food. That’s when I stumbled upon Mel’s. It was my kind of place. And old-school diner with classic diner food. I got the burger and onion rings and was satisfied by both. But I also got a milkshake (chocolate) which was fantastic. Mel’s is one of those places where when you walk in you just know they have good milkshakes. Have you ever been to a 50’s or 60’s diner and not had a good milkshake? I think it’s because they don’t care about health, or money, so they just make the best tasting milkshake possible, which usually involves lots and lots of cream and fat and delicious goodness without watering it down with milk to make it more profitable. We went back to Mel’s the next day just so I could have another one.

The other memorable destination from that trip was Sam’s Anchor Café. This is the perfect little place on the other side of the Bay in Tiburon. You sit outside, hang out, eat some food, and enjoy the view of the bay (including a pretty nice view of San Fran). I don’t remember anything about the food. I know I was there for brunch, so chances are I had some form of eggs, but I can’t really remember. For that I blame Sam’s Lemonade. It’s basically lemonade and vodka. And I’m not sure there was really lemonade in there. They were fantastic (also fantastically expensive). But, I didn’t have to pay for it. That’s because Tony said that if I did a classic Josh pratfall (where you fake falling down and try to take down as much stuff as possible with you in order to have people turn and look and then ask if you’re OK) he would pay for the bill. So I got up, made my way to the bathroom, and proceeded to fake-trip on a chair (Sam’s specializes in cheap plastic lawn furniture you get at Wal*Mart), then tumbled to the ground, making as much noise as possible. It was a success. The place just stopped (and at noonish on a Saturday the place is packed (over an hour wait)). Two girls asked if I was OK. Another table of co-eds pointed and laughed. I quickly got up, acted embarrassed and sprinted to the bathroom. On the way back a table of girls (and guys, but I didn’t notice them) asked me again if I was OK, and I ended up sitting with them for a couple of minutes. The fake fall was so good that our waitress told us the manager said we were over-served and asked us to leave. We didn’t and continued drinking.

Well, I was back in SF none-of-your-business ago for work and was able to check out a couple more places. I stayed at the Clift hotel. The Clift is one of the fancy hotels that feels a lot nicer than it really is, and when you get the bill you’re not sure it’s really worth that kind of money, but then you talk yourself into it because they had some designer soap in the bathroom and you can be pretty sure that there weren’t any bed bugs. Asia De Cuba is one of those fancy restaurants located in those kind of fancy hotels (there are also Asia De Cuba’s in New York, LA, and London, all located in fancy hotels run by the Morgans Hotel Group). I didn’t love ADC, but I also think a big part of that was my fault. I really couldn’t decide what to get. I was pretty exhausted from a four-hour flight in which I had to sit in the middle seat. So, when it came time to order I for God-knows-what reason went with the bacon cheeseburger. I figured it had bacon, so it would be OK. But it wasn’t. There was just nothing about it that was memorable. It was probably the one thing on the menu I shouldn’t have ordered. I would have been much happier being disappointed in something that was at least somewhat original or unique. However, the fries were great, and the burger came with a boatload of them, so that was nice. I also ordered a side of the mashed potatoes, which had lobster in them. There was also other stuff added to them that I don’t remember, but it doesn’t matter. They were amazing. I could have ordered a giant bowl of it as my meal and I would have been the happiest boy in all of San Francisco. Next time (if there is a next time).

For dinner we wanted to go somewhere good, but also wanted to check out something that was a little more of a “local joint” where you had to be “in-the-know”. That led us to Two. Unfortunately. The place looked nice, and it had a buzz about it without being too crowded. Walking in you really did feel like you were in a cool San Fran spot that only the locals knew about. There’s so much to say about this place that I don’t know where to start, and I also don’t want to spend the next 1,000 words on it (which I could probably do). So, I’m gonna try to hammer through it as quickly as possible. The service was awful. The waiter didn’t know what he was doing, never brought drinks in time, gave the worst reco’s, and it took forever to get our food all night. The whole thing took forever (like two and a half hours), which is ridiculous since the place wasn’t packed and it was a Tuesday night. I started off with the Slow Roasted Marrow Bones. You read that right. I ate bone marrow. It sounded interesting, and I figured there aren’t too many times in life when you get to order bone marrow. It was served with some toasted bread and an onion broth. I’m not sure if you were supposed to just use a spoon to eat it or use a knife and spread it on the bread or what. So I did a little of both. Either way it was just OK. It was served in the bone (so you just got a plate with some bones on it and had to dig into the middle to scoop out the marrow). It was kind of pain in the ass to get the marrow out, and all it really tasted like was the gristle of a steak except in Jell-O form. John (one of the other people attending dinner) described it as a poor man’s foie gras. Either way, it wasn’t worth the wait. Of course my other “when else would you order it” option was head cheese. Which isn’t cheese, but rather meat from the head of a pig or calf. The other people at the table said they would get up and leave if I ordered it (they actually probably did me a favor by forcing me not to order it), which is why I went with the marrow. For dinner I ended up getting the smoked garlic sausage and shrimp risotto with green onions. It was actually really good. And I say “actually” because no one else, and I mean no one, at the table enjoyed their meal. Sean wanted me to specifically say that the roasted half duck on the bone was awful. AWFUL. I think everyone else got the halibut, and every one of them felt the same way about it. Which was somewhere between “eh” and “whatever”. The saving grace was dessert. The ice cream sandwiches were forgetful. But the cupcakes (peanut butter and double chocolate) were fantastic. The doughnut holes were delicious. And the hot fudge sundae was pretty good. They even had a Sprecher root beer float (I didn’t get it), which is an added bonus. And that was Two.


So the question remains – Who’s Now?

The experts (or expert, as in me) weighed in. And now it’s your turn to vote (not really) to decide Who’s Now – San Francisco or St. Louis.

After an incredibly close race, the winner is…St. Louis (I know, I’m as surprised as you are). In the end, the only thing that mattered was the cheese fries. When you have the best cheese fries on the planet, you’re always going to be Now.



And in case you care, here’s a quick re-cap:

ST. LOUIS

Restaurant: Applebee’s
Rating: Manly ass slap (at least the beer was cold)

Restaurant: Il Vicino
Rating: High Five

Restaurant: Dairy Queen
Rating: Half handshake, half chest-bump hug

Restaurant: Max ‘n’ Ryna’s
Rating: Chest bump with a manly ass slap

Restaurant: Tropicana Bowling Alley
Rating: HJ




SAN FRANCISCO

Restaurant: Mel’s Drive-In
Rating: Chest Bump

Restaurant: Sam’s Anchor Cafe
Rating: Chest Bump with a manly ass slap

Restaurant: Asia De Cuba
Rating: Fist Bump

Restaurant: Two
Rating: High five (but only because of the dessert)



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

America's Dog - Day 3

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: America’s Dog
Location: 26 E. Randolph


Day 3

It’s official. These aren’t hot dogs, they’re energy bars. I had another great run this morning, and the morning runs when I was finished. The Louisiana Dog is now the PowerBar Dog. The Green Bay Dog is now the Clif Bar Dog. The Dallas Dog is the Zone Bar Dog. And so on. I really do feel great. No heartburn, no stomachaches, no sluggishness, no nothin’. I think America’s Dog should become an official part of the Chicago Marathon training process.

Three days in and I think my biggest problem with America’s Dog is the cost. Everyday I get two hot dogs and a side item and it’s impossible for me to walk out of there without paying under $7. Just seems like a little much for a hot dog place. Back in my day (once you hit 30 I think you can pull out the “back in my day” routine) you could get two hot dogs and a side of fries for $3. In fact, I think you can still do this at Mickey’s in Oak Park. Don’t get me wrong, the variety and quality of the dogs are worth it, but it still doesn’t feel right.

For today’s excursion I was joined by Rex and JT. Now, I’ve been a little critical of whether or not all the hot dogs are authentic to their host cities, so having JT there was nice. He’s from North Carolina, and the second he saw the Charleston Dog he made a comment about how right on it was. “Just like we do it back home.” So now I feel better about the whole thing. And with that knowledge and the fact I was with someone from N.C. it seems like ordering the Charleston Dog (which is covered in cole slaw) would have made sense, but of course I didn’t. The majority of the lunchtime conversation revolved around The Deadliest Catch, which apparently is a TV show on the discovery channel that documents how guys risk their lives to catch crabs for a living. If I had known I could have made a career out of catching crabs I would have never left college. HI-YO! Anyway, the show follows a bunch of fisherman who cruise the Barren Straits fishing for crab. Supposedly it’s one of the most dangerous jobs in the world. Sounds like fun, except the exact opposite. If you’ve ever seen the movie The Perfect Storm, it’s a lot like that, except in colder water, with more danger, and crabs instead of fish. At first I wasn’t sure why anyone would risk their lives for a job like that, but then I realized that I would probably risk my life for an unlimited supply of hot dogs, so I can relate.

Oh, and thanks to Rex I’m now going to refer to this “event” as me doing it Doggy Style all week.

Hot Dog: The San Francisco Dog
You know how I’m skeptical of how authentic these dogs are (and if you’re not familiar then you must have skipped the last paragraph)? Well, here’s one reason why: on the website they call this the Cosmic Dog. I’m beginning to think they just thought of good hot dog combos and randomly assigned cities to them. The San Fran/Cosmic Dog has chili, mustard, ketchup, relish, pickle, tomato, shredded cheddar cheese, and celery salt. It sounds like a mess of dog, and it was. It was hard to keep in one piece and I ended up with chili and other ingredients all over my hand. But other than that it was a great dog. I expected all the ingredients to compete with each other and the whole thing to taste like a garbage disposal, but it was really good. An easy chest bump.

Hot Dog: The Baltimore Dog
What if I told you that you could get a hot dog that was deep-fried then topped with melted cheddar cheese and grilled onions. Is that something you might be interested in? Well, it was something I was interested in. You might need earmuffs for this, but this hot dog almost made me finish in my pants. I’ve consumed god knows how many hot dogs in my life, and I think I might consider this the best one I’ve ever had. Now, I know that’s saying a lot, but hear me out. It’s a hot dog – but deep-fried. Then it’s topped with cheese – but scoopable cheese. And then onions – but grilled onions. It’s the greatest combo I could ever imagine. The best versions of the best ingredients. Look at it like this. Kobe Bryant is a hot dog. Just a great player that’s one of the best in the game. But a fried hot dog? That’s Michael Jordan. LeBron might be cheese, but Magic was scoopable cheese. Dirk might be onions (he definitely smells like them with the way he stunk up the joint in the first round), but Bird is grilled onions. This isn’t a Hall of Fame hot dog; it’s the greatest-of-all-time hot dog. I have no choice but to give it the famous HJ ranking.

Side Item: Cheese Sticks
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! OK, they weren’t that bad, but I like a really gooey cheese stick (shocker), and these weren’t melted. It was basically a warm, breaded string cheese. They were better than the onion rings, but still nothing special. High five.




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

New York, New York

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



OK, so about a month ago I turned 30. Awesome. Turning 30 really wasn’t that big a deal. The one thing it does do is open your eyes a little bit. You notice what you’ve accomplished in your life (like bowling a 250 once), and what you haven’t accomplished (two chicks at the same time). You also start to notice little things about yourself that have probably changed over time and you never noticed it before but suddenly you’re 30 so you start to really think about it. For example, back in college, a typical day’s worth of food looked like this:

Breakfast
- Two bowls of cereal
- A ham and cheese omelette
- Four pieces of toast (with butter)
- A glass of milk
- A glass of chocolate milk
- A glass of orange juice
- An apple or banana (or both)
- And a huge waffle (with butter and syrup)
(Just for the record, this was my breakfast every day at Eva J’s. No joke. It never changed. Not in four years. Except that sometimes I might get a little of the day’s special (like biscuits and gravy or something).)

Lunch
- Two footlong Subway subs
(This varied every day. Depends what I was in the mood for – Burger King, Subway, the cafeteria, etc… - or where friends wanted to eat. The only requirement was that the place had to take student charge, so my parents would end up paying for it.)

Dinner
- Two steak soft tacos from Taco Bell
- A Whopper
- Fries
- Onion Rings
- A small pizza from Pizza Hut
(Again, this varied every night depending on things, but you get the point.)

Late Night
- Two pints of Ben and Jerry’s
(During my sophomore year Hitt St. Market was running a special – 2 pints for $5 – and since they took student charge, I got two pints every day. And each night I would eat an entire pint of Phish Food and an entire pint of Chunky Monkey. And I usually wouldn’t start the first pint until about 10 at night. Now, keep in mind each pint contains about 1,200 calories and 80 grams of fat. So that’s 2,400 calories and 160 grams of fat. Every night.)

The point is I ate a lot. More than a lot. I ate more than several countries. But the thing is I never gained any weight. I had the metabolism of a 20 year old, and could work out 2 hours a day, because what else was I going to do? Go to class? I never weighed over 185, and when I weighed that I was pretty ripped (not to brag, but I had a six pack). Now? I don’t eat nearly as much (but let’s be honest, I still eat more than most, and way more than I should) and the weight just keeps creeping on. And it’s much tougher to get rid of. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, being 30 is awesome.

So, for my 30th birthday, my wife surprised me with a trip to New York. And not only that, she had some friends come meet me, including my sister. Here’s the low-down on some of the places we ate at while visiting the Big Apple.


Restaurant: John’s
Location: 408 E 64th St.

When my wife was making plans for the NY trip, she didn’t have much in mind. She wasn’t sure what I would be up for, and since there were a bunch of people coming in at different times, it was also probably tough to coordinate a bunch of activities. So, she kept it pretty simple. Lunch plans on Thursday and dinner reservations on Friday.

By the time we got in Thursday (we left on the 6 a.m. flight, got in about 8 or something, then decided to take the train, which was a mistake because it was under construction, so we didn’t end up making it to our hotel until almost 11. Maybe the most painful experience of my life. When I walked into the hotel and my sister was there waiting, I was so pissed off that I didn’t even say “hi” to her. Needless to say I don’t have a lot of patience. Luckily the DoubleTree offers free cookies, so that calmed me down.) it was about time to grab lunch. We threw our stuff in the room, relaxed for a minute, and waited for Matt and Allison to get in. Then the five of us headed out to John’s.

Well, we start walking there, and my wife knows the address, and my sister has been waiting on us long enough that she spent the morning walking around and at one point headed that direction. So as we’re walking there and getting further from touristland, my wife looks around and says, “I don’t remember this at all.” Apparently she’s been to John’s before. “I thought it was in the theater district.” About a block later we finally reached John’s. We’re relieved, but my wife is pretty confused. “This can’t be the place.” I checked the menu posted on the outside of the building, and the front of it showed three addresses for John’s, one of them being in Times Square. “That’s the one I meant to go to.” Oh well, we’re here now.

When we got inside the place was empty. I guess that’s why she wanted to go to the other location. Then again, it was almost two o’clock. So we had our choice of seats and slid into a booth. We started off with some Pete’s-A-Rolls. They’re balls of dough stuffed with stuff. We went with the fresh spinach and mozzarella. Here’s something you may not know about me. I like spinach pizza, especially when it’s stuffed pizza. It’s definitely not my first choice (the pepperoni and pepperoncini combo, also known as the Ricky Kim), but it’s up there. So, I thought the spinach Pete’s-A-Rolls were the right choice. And they were. These things were delicious. Just little balls of goodness. You know how Munchkins are great little poppable versions of donuts? Well, these things were great little poppable versions of pizza.

As we were ordering our pizza, a couple came in to eat. I didn’t really notice them when they walked in, but I noticed that they decided to sit in the booth directly behind us. So, my back was to them, but Amy, Allison, and Matt were facing them perfectly. The only reason I bring this up is because they could have sat ANYWHERE in this place. I mean it was more wide open then Briana Banks. But they sat as close to us as possible. And as you’ll find out in a minute, I’m glad they did.

Matt and I ordered a pizza with pepperoni and prosciutto. I wasn’t sure what to expect with the pizza here. I’m used to buying New York pizza by the slice, where you get a giant thin slice that you have to fold in half just to get it in your mouth. Well, you know what John’s reminded me of? Shakespeare’s in Columbia, MO. Not that it tasted the exact same or anything like that, but the pizza looked similar, similar style crust and slice size and all that stuff. John’s pizza is cooked in a coal-burning oven, and maybe that’s the same way Shakespeare’s does it. I don’t know. Anyway, the pizza was delicious. I loved it. I could see this being one of my “places” if I lived in New York. But the pizza wasn’t the highlight of the place. The couple sitting behind us was.

When they walked in I didn’t really notice them. It was a man and a woman, and that’s about as much as I saw. But as their lunch went on, it became obvious that this wasn’t a lunch but a rendezvous. They were having an affair. Allison was somehow hearing the best of it, mostly because she was the one who was listening and watching their every move. Turns out the guy was telling the woman that he wanted her to leave her husband. And if she didn’t, he wasn’t sure he could go on like this. He said something about her getting both of their life insurances or something. And throughout the whole conversation, the more heated he got, the more he swore. And this is when I took better notice of what Allison already knew – the guy looked like he was in his 70s and she looked like she was in her early 40s. I just pictured my grandpa throwing around the f-bomb to his 30-years-younger mistress. I wanted to turn around and tell this gentleman that he was my hero, but I thought that might be inappropriate. Mostly because my wife was there, and I wasn’t in the mood for a swift kick to the groin.

John’s gets a solid chest bump. Really enjoyed this place.


Restaurant: Telephone Bar and Grill
Location: 149 Second Ave.

On Thursday night, after a day of walking around, we were trying to decide where to grab dinner. No one really wanted to make a decision, and I’m the kind of guy who just likes to wander and pick a place at random. So, we jumped in a cab, told him we wanted to head to East Village (as if I had any idea what or where that was), and that we were looking for some food (nothing special, just something casual). So he drops us off and we start walking around. Well, everyone is about to pass out because they’re so hungry, so we only walked around for about 30 seconds, and there was Telephone Bar and Grill. Looked like a decent, local crowd inside, so we headed in. I loved the atmosphere of this place. Some people were eating. Some were just standing around drinking like they were making happy hour last all night long (the Dave Hart special), and the backroom was hosting an open-mic comedy night. I never got the chance to head back and check it out, but I’m sure it was hilarious. Our waiter had a British accent. I was convinced he wasn’t really British, but a struggling actor who was working on his accent for some off-off-off Broadway play. One that I would never see. Unless it was about food. For dinner I ordered the stew. Not sure how I felt about it. It smelled of something awful. You might even say pungent. But that didn’t stop me from eating the whole bowl. I think I was just really hungry and could have eaten anything at this point. The fries were another story. They were amazing. They were the kind of fries where you would put one in your mouth, and as you were chewing it, you would already have another one in your hand and shove it in your mouth right as you were done swallowing. Kind of like how chain smokers will light their next cigarette off the one they have in their mouth, because they can’t even stand to be without a cigarette long enough to light it with a match or lighter. These were like that. Without the cancer. But with the cholesterol. And Telephone had a great selection of beer. I also enjoyed that. But, overall, I can only give the food a High Five.


Restaurant: Pinnacle Deli
Location: Corner of 3rd ave and 45th st

On Friday morning, while everyone else was recovering from Thursday night (I’ll spare you the details, but they involved a lot of drinking, some 21 year old who shared my birthday trying to make out with me, and us ending up at some bar where the bartender agreed to stay open as late as we wanted), I decided to head out for a walk and was on a mission to find some little corner bagel place and get breakfast. About 6 blocks from where I was staying in Midtown I found Pinnacle. The bagel was really, really good, and the guys behind the counter couldn’t have been nicer. But who gives an F? The great thing about Pinnacle was that they spread the cream cheese onto the bagel with a spoon. That alone earns them a perfect rating. The only thing that could have topped it is if they used a shovel. Half handshake, half chest-bump hug.


Restaurant: Café Borgia
Location: 196 Spring St.


During the day on Friday we headed down to SoHo to do some shopping. We stopped for lunch at Café Borgia. I enjoyed it. Just a small little intimate setting with some great home-style food. I had the chicken soup, which tasted just like the one mom used to make. I also got a hot chocolate, which was fantastic. It tasted like they melted a Hershey’s bar into some whole milk. And I thank them for that.

Chest bump.


Restaurant: Mesa Grill
Location: 102 5th Ave.


My wife wanted to have at least one dinner as a big group at a nice restaurant, so she made reservations at Mesa Grill. Mesa Grill is Bobby Flay’s restaurant, which leads me to one question: is that his real name?

See, my theory is that Bobby Flay’s life story was kind of like an after school special. Back when Bobby Jackson was in high school, his parents started asking him where he wanted to go to college. But Bobby told them he didn’t want to go to college. He wanted to become a chef and go to The French Culinary Institute. This lead to a disapproving look from his dad, followed by his dad screaming, “No son of mine is going to become a…a…a chef! What are you, some kind of fruit?” So Bobby ran away. Shamed by his family he changed his last name from Jackson to Flay, and eventually graduated from the Institute with an Outstanding Graduate Award. After graduation he headed to New York City and worked in several restaurants, honing his skills, until one day he was ready to open his own place. And when that day came, he called his parents (of course his dad still wouldn’t talk to him) and convinced his mom (who would drag dad along, even though he wouldn’t know why) to come to New York and see him. Bobby would convince them to meet him at a new restaurant called Mesa Grill. When they arrived and sat down at the best table in the house, out comes Bobby. His dad is furious and wants to leave, but mom convinces him to sit. So, the three of them have dinner together. Eventually his dad is a little less pissed off, and as he finishes his meal, he says, “Wow, that was terrific. This place is great.” And Bobby simply says, “I’ll let the owner and chef know you think so.” And his mom asks, “You KNOW the owner?” And Bobby grins, and says, “Yeah. It’s me.” Both parents stare in amazement, and then his dad puts down his napkin, stands up and hugs his son.

And then I probably cry.

Seriously, with a name like Bobby Flay, it has to be made up, right?

Speaking of changing names, I have one more quick sidetrack. A couple of years ago I happened to watch a special on HBO called “Katie Morgan: A Porn Star Revealed”. It featured Katie Morgan talking about her life, how she got into porn, why she does it, why she likes it, how she got her porn name, etc… Of course she is sitting on a stool naked the entire show. Well, at one point she talks about growing up with conservative parents: "I might as well have been raised in the 40s," Katie sighs, adding that her mother and father still don't know what she does for a living. Excuse me? Your parents don’t know what you do for a living? And you still talk to them? And you don’t want them to find out that you’re a porn star? Um, guess what, there’s a good chance they just found out. Why would you go on HBO if you didn’t want them to find out? I mean, there’s already a chance that some pervert from your home town is going to see you in a porn, recognize you, do the math, and maybe leak the news, which will eventually make it’s way through the gossip-mill of small town USA. But now that you had your own special on HBO? I mean everyone has HBO these days. Now I’m sure half the town has seen it, and your dirty little secret isn’t really a secret anymore. And why do I bring this up? I have no idea.

By the way, the food at Mesa Grill is really good. The blue corn pancake, which includes barbecued duck, is terrific. The corn tamale is also really tasty, but it has garlic, so it should be tasty. Seriously, is there anything made with garlic that isn’t tasty? I can’t think of anything. I don’t even remember what I ordered for dinner. I think some kind of steak or something, and I’m sure it was great, but the New Mexican Spice Rubbed Pork Tenderloin stole my attention. I’ve said it before – pork falls into three categories. Terrible (very few fall into this category, and the restaurant has to almost try to make it terrible), good/great (probably 90% of pork dishes fall into this category. You can’t screw up pork (unless you try), and in the end they all end up tasting pretty similar, which is why it’s always a safe order), and unbelievably perfect HJ-worthy pork. Guess what, the pork tenderloin fell into this category. It was…indescribable. Just one of the best dishes I’ve even eaten. I might have finished in my pants. It was $29, and I would have paid $1,000. That’s how good I thought it was.

For dessert by buddy Tony had called ahead and had them prepare a special chocolate cake just for me (well, it was actually for everyone at the table, but in my honor). So, Mesa Grill had their pastry chef prepare something special and from scratch. The cake was awesome. And for $90, it should have been. But you know what they did? They brought the cake out and presented it, then took it back to the kitchen to cut it, then brought out 9 equal pieces (one for everyone at the table). But where was the rest of the cake? No way those 9 pieces added up to that whole cake. I think they charged us $90 (which Tony paid for) for half a cake, then used the other half to feed other tables probably later in the night. Kinda shady.

But, that being said, I still think the place was terrific. I’m gonna give them a chest bump with a manly ass slap. They would have gotten a perfect score, but something about Bobby Flay bothers me, so I had to knock them a half point.

After dinner we headed out for the night again, drank a lot (I drank less than most, but I also ate more than most, so it was a wash), went to a great dive bar, and eventually ended up at the same late-night bar from the night before, except this time Matt went on a McDonald’s run and brought about 20 cheeseburgers and fries into the bar. Good times. And the bartender was getting high, so he appreciated the food.

I just want to wrap this up by thanking my wife for surprising me and organizing the trip. And I want to thank Yvette, Matt, Allison, Katy, Nick, Tony, Jamie, and Dave for coming out to help me celebrate.

I give the whole trip a half handshake, half chest-bump hug.



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

Shaw's Crab House

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: Shaw’s Crab House
Locations: 21 E. Hubbard


There are people out there who are “in”. They know about the secret little bars that don’t have any signage. They know the secret knock that gets you in an exclusive after party. Like Rubin, they know the secret handshake that gets four white guys into an all-black fraternity. I’m not one of these people. I can’t just walk to the back entry of a bar like Trent, enter through the kitchen, then plop down for the night at a table marked “reserved”.

But I do know one secret, and it involves Shaw’s Crab House. I know what you’re thinking, what could possibly be a secret with Shaw’s? It’s a Lettuce Entertain You restaurant. Just another cleverly themed place with good food, isn’t it? Well, yes. But, Shaw’s has a hidden gem that almost no one knows about. Garlic butter.

Now, the garlic butter isn’t a complete secret. It’s served with some of the dishes on the menu. But, it’s how you use it that’s the secret. The first time the server comes by and asks what you want to drink and brings you a basket of bread and butter, ask her for a side of garlic butter and some extra bread. Trust me. You’ll soon discover that the garlic butter isn’t the spreadable kind you’re used to. It’s melted, so you can’t dip a knife in it. What you do is you grab a piece of bread and use the butter as a dip. I’ve gone through two baskets of bread at one sitting. The first time I discovered it I asked the waitress if I could buy some to go. The manager told me no, that it would be a violation of the health code or something. Stupid health codes. And I’m not kidding when I say you could honestly make an entire meal out of dipping a couple of baskets of bread in the garlic butter. The waitress will hate you, but what do you care?

But there is more to Shaw’s. First, you have to understand that there are two places to eat – the snooty dining room or the oyster bar. I’ve never eaten in the dining room. I’m sure it’s terrific. According the website there are more than 40 fresh seafood entrees on the menu in the dining room. And they’re probably all good. But the dining room isn’t my style. I like the atmosphere of the oyster bar (sure it’s like a mini theme park with the way it’s designed, but I love theme parks. And water parks. And wet t-shirt contests.) along with the simpler menu. Choosing between 40 seafood dishes makes my head explode. At the oyster bar, I’m basically choosing between 8 or so seafood dishes (or choosing all 8, depending how hungry I am).

Start off your meal with the buffalo shrimp. Fantastic dish. It’s just like eating chicken wings, except you’re eating shrimp instead of chicken. Rule of thumb is get one order for two people. Or two orders for one Josh.

As far as entrees go, there are usually three I pick from. The first is the tuna tacos. Small chunks of tuna are grilled, and then served in three corn tortillas. The key to making these tacos go from good to great is the way you dress them. Step one, take the cilantro that comes with them and make sure you put an equal amount on each taco. Then use the salsa to do the same. The last step is the lime. Squeeze one of the pieces of lime and squirt it’s juice all over the tuna taco (sorry, couldn’t resist). Probably my default dish when I go there (introduced to me by my boss, who gets his tuna cooked all the way through).

The second is the fish and chips. One of the best I’ve ever had. The fish (which I believe is cod) is beer battered then fried. The best onion rings are beer battered. The beer batter creates this great flaky but tasty fried coating. When you get them with onion rings, it makes all the difference. And this is the first place where I’ve had it with the fish and chips (maybe I should get out more) and it makes all the difference here as well. The fries are just OK. Nothing out of the ordinary. Oh, and if you think because you’re getting fish you’re eating healthy, you’re not. The beer-battered fried fish makes you feel like you’ve just eaten a basket of onion rings and fills you up like nobody’s business. If you’re looking for lighter fare, go with the tuna tacos. Then again, if you’re looking for lighter fare you might also want to stay away from the garlic butter and the two loaves of bread you’ll eat with it.

The third entrée I usually go with is the fish sandwich. It’s like a much, much, much, much, much, much, much, much, much better Filet-O-Fish from McDonalds. Similar to the fish and chips it will fill you up. Wait, you know what? I think I’m wrong. I’m not sure any of these dishes actually fill you up. I usually have just eaten a loaf of bread and a bowl of garlic butter. Maybe that’s why I always feel full.

Oh, Shaw’s also has the best after-dinner mints. If they are out of them when you go, it’s because I’ve just eaten there. They have a bowl of these mints at the host stand as you leave, and I usually dump the whole thing into my pocket. Or my mouth. So if they’re out, you know why.

I’m gonna give Shaw’s a fist bump with a manly ass slap. Great place to go for lunch if you work nearby, or even for a happy hour dinner right after work.



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

WFOOD in Cincinnati

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



Now we're up to our long-distance dedication. And this one is about food, and more food, and a situation that we can all relate to, whether we have friends across the county, across town, or no friends at all. It's from a man in Chicago, IL. And here's what he writes:

"Dear Casey: For the past month or so, I’ve been spending a lot of time away from home. Between business trips to seeing family to visiting friends to shredding the gnar, I’ve been away maybe more than I should. You see, I’ve got a restaurant review site that 5s of 10s of people (or maybe only my friend Geoff) visit every week, and I feel that I’m letting them down. They’ve been reading about all of my misadventures in cities where they probably aren’t going anytime soon. What good is that doing them? How will they know where to eat, and where not to eat, in my absence? I want them to know how much I miss them, and that I’ll be back very soon.

So, Casey, could you play “Leaving on a Jet Plane” for my readers?

Thanks,

Josh"

Josh, here's your long distance dedication. Keep looking up, and keep reaching for the stars.


All my snacks are packed
I’m ready to eat
I’m strugglin’ now to stay on my feet
I ate so much I feel like I could die
But my bowels are breakin’
My undies torn
There’s no more waitin’
I’m gonna blow my horn
Everything tastes so much better
When it’s fried

So feed me and cook for me
Tell me that you’ll wait on me
Give me just a bit more cookie dough
Cause I’m leavin’ on a jet plane
Don’t know when I’m gonna eat again
I think, my colon is gonna blow

There’s so much food that I’ve choked down
Across the country in many a town
On the Windy City, they don’t got a thing
Ev’ry place I dine, I’ll think of you
Ev’ry pizza I eat, I’ll eat for you
When I come back, I’m sure I’ll be starving

So feed me and cook for me
Tell me that you’ll wait on me
Give me just a bit more cookie dough
Cause I’m leavin’ on a jet plane
Don’t know when I’m gonna eat again
I think, my colon is gonna blow

Now the time has come to pay you
But one more course
Let me eat you
Then I’ll close my tab
And be on my way
Dream about the days to come
When I won’t have to leave my home
Pizza and hot dogs make me fat and gay

Oh, feed me and cook for me
Tell me that you’ll wait on me
Give me just a bit more cookie dough
Cause I’m leavin’ on a jet plane
Don’t know when I’m gonna eat again
I think, my colon is gonna blow

But, I’m leavin’ on a jet plane
Don’t know when I’m gonna eat again
I think, my colon is gonna blow



Well, my latest trip didn’t exactly put me on a plane, but I did fly down I-65 and I-74 on my way to Cincinnati. I was planning on using some WKRAP in Cincinnati joke at some point in this review, but the food I ate all weekend was a pleasant surprise. Here’s a recap.



Restaurant: Ferrari’s
Location: 7677 Golf Terrace, Cincinnati, OH

We ate here Friday night. Our hosts didn’t want to try to hard to impress us with a fancy, trendy, cool restaurant. As we’re from Chicago, they figured nothing there would compare to anything here. So, they decided take us to Ferrari’s, a small little Italian restaurant. It felt like a place that’s been run by the same married couple for 50 years. Some sweet mom and pop who work 7 days a week, never complain, and love what they do. The front of the restaurant was a bakery where you could buy bread and dessert to go. The rest of the place was a cozy little restaurant.

We were sat at a table by the fireplace, which added to the romance. Now, our hosts (Angie and Tim) called ahead for reservations. The hostess told them, “We don’t really take reservations. But, if you leave your name and the number in your party, we’ll hold a table for you.” Um, I’m pretty sure that’s a reservation, but what do I know. When we go there I think I know what they meant – at 8 o’clock on a Friday getting a table was a breeze. And it’s like this almost everywhere in Cincy. Seriously. There’s a rush at some places at like 7 o’clock, but after that you’re golden. It’s amazing. Either people don’t go out to eat here or it’s the most boring city ever. And I’m not sure what the answer is. Of course on Saturday at Montgomery Inn the wait was almost 2 hours at 7 o’clock, so I guess some places are more crowded than others. Then again the people at Montgomery Inn were wearing bibs and most were being pushed around in wheel chairs by people walking with canes. For a minute I thought I was in Florida hanging out with the Seinfeld’s. And I’m told Montgomery Inn is really good. I was kind of hoping to run into Drew Lachey and his disco ball there, but I didn’t. What was I talking about?

Back to Ferrari’s. Everything felt like it was cooked by momma using an old family recipe. I love that. We started with the Calamari Fritti. It kind of tasted like the onion rings from Burger King, except with calamari instead of onions. Why hasn’t anyone thought of this sooner? I love Burger King onion rings. And that means I also love Calamari Fritti at Ferrari’s. We also got an order of Fried Mozzarella. Here is how they describe it in the menu: “cheese sliced and breaded by hand and fried until golden brown.” I’ll give you one guess what my feelings for this dish was – Squisito! (I think that means delicious in Italian. Or squishy. I’m not sure.)

For my entrée I ordered up Mama Bassano’s Lasagna, and let me tell you, mama knows how to cook. What great lasagna. Just loaded with mozzarella cheese. I mean loaded. How can you have a bad dish when it’s loaded with gooey, melted cheese? You can’t. I wish she were my mama. I also ordered a side of the Fettuccine Alfredo. Nothing special here. Oh well.

Overall, I keep going back and forth, but I’m gonna go ahead and give it a chest bump. Great atmosphere, good service, and I loved the food. And they used lots of cheese on everything.



Restaurant: Graeter’s
Location:

We looked over the dessert menu at Ferrari’s and Angie said there was an ice cream place nearby that was kind of famous, so we opted for that. The place was Graeter’s. The ice cream was the best I’ve ever had. Ever. The creamiest, smoothest, sweetest, best tasting ice cream you’ll ever have. I might consider moving to Cincinnati. Seriously. The mint chocolate chip has these huge chunks of chocolate that are more like fudge or a piece of Frango chocolate. It just melts in your mouth, and the pieces are big enough to choke a whore. I mean horse.

Half handshake, half chest-bump hug, although I’m contemplating creating a new rating just for this place. Maybe an HJ, which is like 6 stars. I don’t know, I’m thinking about it.



Restaurant: The Original Pancake House
Location: 9977 Montgomery Road, Montgomery, OH

Ah, breakfast. My favorite meal of the day. And once again I traveled five hours to eat at a place I could go to anytime in Chicago. Of course my other choice was First Watch, which is like a glorified Denny’s but not as good. So I was happy with Pancake House. Plus, they do breakfast right – huge, giant, almost uneatable portions served at a great price. Who doesn’t love that? I went with their famous Apple Pancake, which is like having an apple pie for breakfast. And to be honest, I’m secretly hoping someday that a place actually offers apple pie for breakfast. I will say, I like the Apple Pancake at Walker Brothers much better.

Here’s a quick history lesson. The Original Pancake House started in Portland, Oregon in 1953. Walker Brothers started in Portland, Oregon in 1960. So, they pretty much copied The Original Pancake House menu (including the Dutch Baby and the Apple Pancake). But, looks like The Original Pancake House became more successful with over 90 franchises across the country. Of course Walker Brothers has the better Apple Pancake, but not as many people get to enjoy it.

I do love the omelettes at The Original Pancake House. They’re oven baked AND you get three pancakes to go along with it. You get to satisfy two cravings at once. Maybe that’s why they’ve been kicking Walker Brothers’ ass.

Anyway, solid choice for breakfast – fist bump.



Restaurant: Kona Bistro
Location: 3012 Madison Road, Cincinnati, OH

We ate here Saturday night after seeing if we could get a seat at Montgomery Inn. We decided nothing was worth a 2-hour wait (unless it involves one of the Lachey’s or Bob Huggins doing lines of coke off my wife’s breasts) and headed to Kona Bistro. We called from Montgomery Inn to see if we would have to wait, and they said, “If you can get here in the next 15 minutes, we should be able to seat you.” This was at 7 o’clock. When we got there we had to wait maybe 10 minutes. And that was the longest wait off the night. And this seems to be a pretty good joint. I just think that people in Cincy hate food. Or fun. Or both. Or they just all go to Montgomery Inn.

For apps we got the three cheese artichoke dip. And the only thing better than cheese is three cheeses. Good stuff. And I ordered a cup of the southwestern crab and corn chowder. Fantastic. For dinner I chowed on the pork chop. It was topped with dried cherry-port demiglace. I have no idea what that is, but it tasted great. I wish my wife cooked like this. And it came with caramelized onion mashed potatoes. Perfect. My only complaint is that they wasted valuable plate space by including some roasted asparagus. It was green. I don’t eat green. Unless it’s mint flavored.

I really like this place. A solid chest bump. Might have scored a tad higher but I hated the artwork on the walls (worst paint job ever). But, it does get bonus points for featuring a creepy old guy having dinner with a girl in her early to mid twenties. We spent the entire night guessing if they were father/daughter or boyfriend/girlfriend. I love games like this (others include “dude/not-a-dude” and the classic “foreign or gay”). Turned out they were boyfriend/girlfriend. I almost lost my dinner. But good for him. And horrible for her.



Restaurant: Graeter’s
Location:

Yeah, that’s right. I made them take us back there the next night. So what? I found out you can go online (Graeters.com) and order 12 pints of ice cream to be delivered to your door for $80 (more depending where you live). It would be the best money ever spent. I want to open up a franchise in my living room.

Official rating – HJ.


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

Dunlays on the Square

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: Dunlays on the Square
Location: 3137 W. Logan


Don’t go to Dunlays for lunch or brunch or anytime before dinner if you haven’t eaten breakfast. I tried that genius idea, and I ended up consuming roughly 1 million calories because of my extreme hunger. What’s the problem, you ask? Well, usually there wouldn’t be one, as consuming 1 million calories per sitting is pretty much common practice for me. The reason it’s a bad idea to do it at Dunlays is that you end up consuming 1 million calories of food that is unsatisfying to the taste buds.

And it’s not as if the food is bad, it’s just that the food is OK, so when you’re done stuffing your face to try and get rid of your hunger pains, you sit back in your chair, unbutton your jeans and realize you’re full, but not really satisfied. And that’s not a good feeling. You start thinking about what you could have eaten. Where you could have gone to over indulge. And it’s kind of depressing. Luckily this lasts for about 30 seconds, and then you get a fresh beer and start thinking about where to go for dinner.

I went to Dunlays on the Square (there is a Dunlays on Clark in Lincoln Park) for brunch on a Saturday. We got there at about 12:15, sat down, and didn’t have a waitress take our drink order (or more importantly, take my drink order) until about 12:30. Then, about 3 days later when she returned with our drinks, we had to tackle her just to get an appetizer order in. We went with the Spinach Dip and the Beer Cheese. Both were really good. How good, you ask? Well, let me tell you. We quickly ran out of chips for the dips. Now, normally I’ll flag down the waitress, ask for some extra chips, and finish the dips, but since our waitress couldn’t be found by David Caruso and the rest of his CSI squad, I took matters into my own hands. And that’s to say I picked up my fork and finished off the dips that way. There is nothing more pathetic than a hung-over, starving guy forking cheese dips into his mouth.

Sometime before the sun went down we were allowed to place our food orders. The waitress apparently got bored ignoring us and came over to see what we wanted. She talked me into the French toast (I know, real difficult). The following Tuesday when it came out, I devoured the four pieces. And I mean devoured. I actually finished the entire plate before one of the other people at the table took a bite of their burger. No joke. And then when that left me feeling more unsatisfied than Teddy KGD, I finished off half of one of the burgers someone else wasn’t going to finish. Now, if your playing along at home, I finished a plate of French toast AND half a burger (and some fries) before ANYONE at the table finished their food. And then I sat there wondering what else I could eat. I also was trying to decide if we needed to issue an Amber Alert for our waitress.

Here’s the bottom line – Dunlays has fine bar food. If you live in or anywhere near Logan Square and you’re looking for someplace where you can get some bar food and watch some sports, then sure, stop by here. Are there better places? Yeah. Are there worse places? Yeah. But do any of these places offer you the chance to see a guy eat his weight in cheese dips using his fork? No.

And I know that I’m giving the waitress a lot of crap, and in her defense I think she was actually the only waitress working a full bar, but it really was bad service.

All that being said, Dunlays is your typical neighborhood bar with bar food, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

High five with a manly ass slap.


UPDATE: OK, I've now been here a ton of times and the ratings have gone way up. The burgers are good, the salads are good, teh apps are great, and the skillet cookie dessert is maybe my favorite dessert in the city (and gets an HJ). New rating - Chest bump.


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