For Mother's Day, we made a SUPERDEEDUPER quick trip through Chicago. One of these days we'll have to get up there for a more extended visit, but this time work got in the way and it was not to be.
We celebrated Mother's Day at the Parthenon in Greektown, which has been the site of lots of family gatherings since before I was born.
Before Greektown, though, DJ, CB, Logan and I went out for Puerto Rican food. The plan had actually been to go to Hot Doug's, which had just announced that they'd be closing in the fall. This announcement, combined with a gorgeous May day, meant that the line was close to three hours long to get in. We waited an hour and then decided to pack it in and hunt down a jibarito.
Jibaritos are a Chicago thing, created by the Puerto Rican community. I'd been wondering why I hadn't heard of these, despite growing up in Chicago, but the Wikipedia page tells me they weren't created until the late '90s. Jibaritos are sandwiches where the bread is replaced by a fried plantain!
Borinquen was the original home of the jibarito, but they've unfortunately closed.
So we went to La Bomba.
We started with lots of fried and steamed appetizers, from banana dumplings to tamales, and washed them down with a variety of Caribbean sodas.
After that, we split an order of mofongo with fried pork. Mofongo is made from starchy green plantains, studded with meat, melded into a ball and... fried. Whoever was working the fryer in the back knows exactly what they're doing.
And then, two jibaritos! The first, with stewed pork, was extremely rich.
I preferred the steak and onion version. The steak had been pounded thin and fried, and the texture was pleasant with the slight crunch and starchy chew of the plantain.
This meal was a lot of fun (though seriously heavy!) and it was a kick getting to try something completely new to us. If you find yourself in Chicago, I'd definitely recommend hunting one of these down. I've added this to my growing list of things I miss about Chicago.
La Bomba is in Humboldt Park at 3221 W. Armitage. (773) 394-0106.
Anyway, on from a fairly undiscovered Detroit pupusa joint to a rather throroughly found Chicago mexican sandwich and soup place owned by a celebrity chef. Don't let it be said we don't cover all the bases!
We were in Chicago for a quick weekend visit after the movie Logan was working on in Michigan wrapped up, and we totally dragged my brother to Xoco for a giant late lunch.
Lucky thing we got there late, too, because even then the line to get in and taste of the sandwiches was formidable.
And the line doesn't just magically end when you get inside. No, there you have to watch others sucessfully ordering and eating their food while you wait to get up to the counter.
At least while you're waiting in this line there's lots to look at. You can ogle the aguas frescas on jewel-toned display in their clear cylinders.
You can watch people quickly and competently assembling a large array of ridiculously delicious-looking food, too, which makes deciding on a final order all the more difficult.
Oh yeah, there's also dessert to eyeball as well, though I'd tell you the thing to get is churros, lots and lots of them. There's a churro-frying station you can see from outside.
And then, suddenly, it's your turn to order and the heat and the pressure is ON. Which is probably how we ended up getting an appetizer, three sandwiches, a giant bowl of soup, and a dessert for three people.
After we placed our order, a very nice and very busy lady led us to a tall counter where we'd be eating. The system seems to work fairly well, in that by the time you're ready to eat in you will most likely have a table, but the system was also seen to break down on a couple of occasions. Maybe they need to take a recon trip up the road to Hot Doug's for a lesson on how to work the line so tables always open up at the right time.
The boys were fortunate that our order of slap-fresh avocado-rich guacamole and two piquant salsas arrived at the table quickly, since true hanger (see: hunger & anger) was beginning to settle in at my spot on the counter.
Quick aside: I love warm chips. It's like warm bread, you know? Just seems fresher and more welcoming.
My beer arrived nice and fast, too.
And then, suddenly our table was covered with food.
A torta ahogada, rich with fatty but not at all greasy pork carnitas, a spread of black beans, and pickled onions. This deliciousness was sitting attentively, upright in a pool of surprisingly spicy tomato broth. Fancy, yet totally down-home. And did I mention tasty?
Caldo verde, the daily soup special, with perfectly cooked local chicken for savoriness, roasted poblanos for a bit of heat, mushrooms for earthiness, chayote for texture, chochoyotes (masa dumplings) for toothiness and starch, and greens for bite. This was a damn fine soup, if I may say so.
The torta milanesa was just a perfectly put together example of a fried sandwich, one I've had in several places in Austin that serve it with varying degrees of success and sogginess. Xoco's was a satisfying mix of textures; crispy chicken, soft beans, melty cheese - and a goot hit of spice from their tomatillo-avocado salsa and pickled jalapenos. The picture we got isn't at a very good angle, so you'll just have to trust me on this one.
The last sandwich was the pepito, with slow-cooked shortribs, caramelized onions and Jack cheese. It was I'm sure an awesome example of its type, but I preferred the other sandwiches. Perhaps I wasn't in a shortrib mood, which is not to dis the pepito torta. You should still order it. If you like shortribs, I mean. And maybe haven't ordered half the menu already.
And then, ha ha ahem, we ordered a dessert. They were frying the churros right in front of us and had a menu blurb detailing how their chocolate beans were ground in house! How could we resist that?! And, I mean, if we were ordering the churros, it was only fair to get a soft-serve vanilla ice cream to dip them in. Right? And shouldn't we try a full cup of chocolate, I mean to give it a fair tasting without limiting ourselves to just the little churro dipping cup?
What else could we possibly have done, I ask you?!
I'm going to suggest you also do this if you go to Xoco. That chocolate is super-rich, though - I don't think there was any possible way I could have finished a cup on my own. As it was, the three of us left a good inch or so of the beverage in the bottom of the mug. Don't get mad, we felt really badly about it.
So, yeah, dammit, the empire of Rick Bayless lives up to the hype. These sandwiches were worth every minute of our wait in line on a cool Chicago winter day (meaning it was 30 outside intead of -5). And I'd wait in that line again in a heartbeat.
Kisses and thanks, Rick!
Xoco is at 449 N. Clark in Chicago. No reservations, closed Sunday and Monday.
First, everyone, thank you! Thank you so much to all of you who got in touch with us, for your comments and emails and encouragement and tips. I'm so lucky to have awesomely supportive people who drop by to see what we're up to.
May I tempt you and show my gratitude with a quickie post about Hot Doug's in Chicago? We were there in October.
Hot Doug's is an encased meat emporium, otherwise known as a hot dog shop, on Chicago's northwestish side. Doug is famous nationwide for not only putting together freaking delicious combinations of sausages, sauces, cheeses and toppings, but also for flouting Chicago's short-lived ban on foie gras - and for serving fries fried in duck fat. Unfortunately, that last is only available Fridays and Saturdays, so we missed out.
They're also famed for their long, long lines.
I have to say I wondered, before we showed up, how a place with this kind of relentless pressure and popularity could possibly maintain its standards. I was simultaneously cherishing high hopes and trying to ignore expectations of disappointment (especially because I'd been saddened by our local fancy sausage place, Frank).
Part of the secret appears to be that Doug his very self is there every day the restaurant is open. The man cares deeply about this business, which after all does bear his name.
He was ridiculously friendly to us, patiently walking us through all the different hot dogs on his extensive menu, answering questions, and offering advice on how best to have each dog prepared (If I'm remembering this correctly, you can choose from grilled, fried, or steamed dogs). Specials rotate often, mostly daily, and can be seen on Hot Doug's website. There's always something new to try.
Of course we had to get the Celebrity Sausage, named after Dale Mortensen. He's an economist from Northwestern University who'd just won the Nobel Prize in Economics. Name me another hot dog joint that does an homage to a Nobel prize-winning economist. I dare you.
Pics of the sausages after the jump. Oh yes, and more descriptions.
I write mostly about food, and some about travel, and some about people, but pretty much all about things that make me happy. Which is why, when things are sad, I need to remember to get off my ass, splash some water on my face, and slap some pretty pictures up on the blog.
And the pictures we got at the Publican are super-pretty - and not just because we took them and all the pictures we take are pretty. (ahem.)
Way the eff back in June we went to Chicago for a long weekend, for a memorial for my Grandpa Tormey who died in January (it's been a truly sucky year for my family, thanks). In true Boots fashion, we took some time to slip in a bit of eating with my brother and his girlfriend on Sunday before we drove back to Michigan.
In the mood for meat, more specifically pork, pork, pork and shellfish? Do you like beer? The Publican just might be the place for you.
If you're lucky enough to get a booth, you will oddly find yourself latched into it. Perhaps to make you feel more connected with the food, they give you a true stabling experience. I suppose this is in case you go into a cholesterol-fueled mania and have the overwhelming desire to jump up and run around naked connecting primally (awkwardly?) with other diners. Who has the presence of mind to fiddle with a latch at a time like that?
We very quickly ordered caffeine. This a very fine cup of coffee roasted by Intelligentsia. The bar towely napkins were a nice touch.
Actually, pretty much everything there was a nice touch, rendering the term immediately overused. Seriously, look at the creamer and sugar. I take my coffee with a knob of butter, I don't know about you.
Also, because we need to have an array of different-sized glassware in front of us at all times, we ordered drinks. The fact that these Bloody Marys came with itty-bitty beer backs (the first time we'd seen this, though Courtney told us it's fairly common in Montana) played right into our glassware-coveting hands.
Plus, the drinks were good. And the beer was good. And they went together... goodly.
When you're thinking about grabbing a drink in a new city, and you run a possible establishment past Bill Norris, always listen to his advice. If he sounds lukewarm and says "I know the owner there, but he moved to New York a while back," well, heed that implicit warning and hie you elsewhere. And if Bill gently steers you towards another bar, saying "... but Charles Joly at the Drawing Room is the best bartender I've ever met," well then, don't be stupid. Go there first.
We'd read hundreds of positive reviews on Yelp (yeah, I know, I know!) and the drinks menu looked enticing, so we decided to check them out regardless. And try to meet someone there, which anyone who has ever been to the Violet Hour on a Saturday would tell you is a Very Bad Idea.
After finding the door, which is purposely hidden to make trixies feel in the know, we stood cheek to jowl in a tiny vestibule with about ten other people. It was not clear what one was supposed to do at this point. I hissed at Logan to please push aside the giant curtain separating us from the bar so we could figure out what was going on, and there he found a doorman who said that what we should do is wait. We'd be called in the order in which we arrived. To enter, one must have a seat - no standing allowed. And no meeting friends"without prior arrangement." (It was also implied strongly that "prior arrangement" does not really exist.) So friendly!
(More Violet Hour and we move on to the much more friendly Drawing Room, below.)
