Chicago Gluttons - Chicago Restaurant Review & Obsession

Well, my Pops was right…you just can’t win them all.  Last night, lil’ Mari and I lost big at La Fonda Latino Grill: a fugazy (i.e. fake, flossed) spot that boasts fine Colombian cuisine.

You would think that odds were on our side due to the fact that we walked in to the joint with a $25 off coupon from a TimeOut Chicago survey I completed a few weeks back.  In the end, the players got played.  I’ll get to that later.

The restaurant sits at the border of Edgewater/Uptown, so of course we were greeted by some drunk, sitting alone, schwillin down tequila on the rocks (pictured above).  “Why don’t y’all come inside and talk about it?”  He slurred/spat, along with some lime remnants,  “…and I got their first round!!!” 

But there was no first round to be had from our inebriated friend.  So, we started off with a bottle of Terrazas Cabernet Sauvignon which would be the only smart choice we made all evening.  We order:

We start with a plate of Arepa de Choclo Con Camerones which was a sweet corn cake with mozzarella cheese, topped by two shrimp wrapped in bacon and covered in red pepper aioli.  On the real, it was a decent dish.  The flavor profiles were there, but c’mon now, ANYTHING tastes good wrapped in bacon shunn! 

And don’t try to claim fine dining when you bring out the entrees before we are done with the appetizer.  So tacky.

Main course:

Mari went with the tilapia wrapped in plantain leaf, topped with some creamy white sauce.  It was aight.  But, I kinda feel like I could make this at home and not spend $16.50.  And I have certainly eaten banquet fish which tasted better.  Any fool who has no imagination falls back on “creamy white wine sauces.”  Also, please notice what I call, “ramekin red rice” and the frozen veggies which resemble french fries at Superdawg.

I was feeling some steak, but I was indecisive, so I asked our server if he preferred the Bistec (beef loin) or the Sobrebarriga (flank steak).  Big mistake on my part, cuz ole boy had no clue…if he had been serving me doonkies on a plate, he probably would have had been better at describing what it would taste like.  Oh, the salad was from a bag and had no dressing…at least give a brotha a splash of extra virgin!  Nevertheless, the plantains were good and the steak was decent.  But, I definitely could have made this dish at home; drunk and high off barbiturates.  I also would have saved $14.95.

And for dessert:

Oh, why no picture, you might ask.  Well, we had to spend $50 on food (no alcohol included in total price) in order to us the $25 coupon.  So, to put us at the $50 mark, we decided on the Colombian Cheesecake Special con helado.  We wanted to take the dish home to avert Thursday Tango Night.  Unfortunately, after finishing our wine, we said goodbyes to our server and the owner and walked right out-sans dessert.  Yes, it was a stoner move on our part, but the wait staff should be on that shit right?…a fitting ending to a horrific evening which started off with drunken greetings from Edgewaters Finest.

• Name: La Fonda Latino Grille
• Where: 5350 N Broadway St Chicago, IL 60640
•  Phone Number: (773) 271-3935

Last night I went to Chicago Kalbi with my current boyfriend who I am currently dating and my token Asian friend, Chin Beard. We initially prowled the streets of Chi-zilla with a taste for sushi on the mind and found ourselves carelessly wandering the streets of Koreatown, subsequently stumbling upon the scrumptiousness that is Chicago Kalbi. We were pleasantly surprised to find this restaurant proudly showcasing its obsession for male Asian baseball players with decorum consisting of collector’s baseballs and framed posters. I mistakenly thought there was a yellow fever issue at this place but was fortunate enough to be taught by my companions that “slope diving” is only applicable towards Asian women. Anyhow, I digress…the real issue I’d like to tackle is the food.

We began our culinary adventure with an order of pajun

and something in the form of beef tartar known as yuk-hwe.

The pajun is easily the best I’ve had in all my years of consuming Korean products–it was thick with a crunchy outside and a soft inside. And the order was huge. Had my boyfriend allowed, I would have slapped him across the face with it and then proceeded to eat the entire dish with my bare hands. I’m almost certain that this pajun is so good, I could perform the Wonder Bread test which employs the task of smashing everything together into one dense ball which can then be popped into my mouth like a Now n’ Later. Seriously delicious! The beef tartar was something new for me. The owner came by and told us that we had to mix the provided egg yolk and slices of Asian pear into the tartar. This dish had just the right amount of sesame flavor with a texture of the most succulent sushi-style tuna.

Our entree was a combination platter of thinly sliced free-range chicken breasts and cuts of two different types of marinated beef bulgoi and kalbi.

The sizzling of the meats on the grill was calling out to me and admittedly, I had the slowest reflexes last night because the meats that were done were immediately gobbled up by my compadres. Needless to say, I shot them dirty looks while they slowly chewed and smacked their lips in hip hop-like rhythm. While waiting for the next round of meats I nibbled on the side dishes of kim chee, potato salad, daikon, and bean paste. As my current boyfriend always says, I showed them how they do it National Geographic when the next round of meats was finished cooking—RAWR.

Our meal was completed with a round of green tea ice cream, stabbed by a wafer cookie that tasted like Crunch Berries. Mmmmmmm.

The moral of this story is, go to Chicago Kalbi. It’s appropriate for veteran kalbi lovers AND a good starter place for whities who want to try ethnic food.

• Name: Chicago Kalbi Japanese BBQ
• Where: 3752 W Lawrence Ave Chicago, IL 60625
•  Phone Number: (773) 604-8183

My time has come. The end is near. I fear that I don’t have much time left so I will be sure to use these words wisely. As I write this, a river of piping hot mozzerella cheese is oozing from my ruptured stomach and enveloping my failing organs. I used to think that eating yourself to death was only possible at gun point, so please learn from my story and don’t repeat my mortal mistakes. (btw, if anyone I know personally is reading this I want The Baby Elephant Walk played at at my funeral. Make this happen or I’m coming back and sliming nurgaz.) It’s going to happen any minute now . . .

Oh sweet lord, accept me into thy open arms. But how did this happen you ask?

Today I went to Gulliver’s Pizza on Howard st. and totally lost control. I wasn’t even hungry, I had no business being there. I was to just enjoy “a few drinks” and the beautiful patio area. You know, this is what responsible adults do for leisure. As always a few drinks turned into several, and several drinks turned into me accidentally ordering an extra large 16 inch pan pizza topped with pepperoni, jalepenos all for myself. This is about a 10 pound (4.54 kilogram) pizza.

It arrived wearing a tin foil burka:

Don’t be shy! You don’t have to hide under there . . . you are free here and I think you are beautiful . . .

No its ok to show off a little . . If this is wrong, why does it feel so right?

What happened next is difficult to explain. Have you ever experienced road hypnosis? Like when you are driving on the highway and all of a sudden you’ve traveled 50 miles from your last memory? Imagine that happening while eating pizza. Shortly after taking this photo I entered my first and final state of deadly food hypnosis. What appropriate and beautiful death.

When I came to the pizza was 50% complete. Small chunks of jalepeno & pizza crust peppered my lap and shirt & my wrist watch was missing.

• enclosure: http://www.chicagogluttons.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/09/baby-elephant-walk.mp3 1830570 audio/mpeg
• Name: Gullivers Pizzeria
• Where: 2727 W Howard St Chicago, IL 60645
•  Phone Number: (773) 338-2166

So many Huts, so little time.

Yes, I am African-American and I loves me some chicken…get out my personal!

I can’t comprehend how the Vegans, Veg Heads, Pescatarians and over-aged Hippiecrites can’t get down with the mass grilling sessions poppin off at Chicken Hut. Hate, hate and mo hate. As far as I’m concerned, this is one of the last solid joints left in slutty ass East Lakeview. Actually, word around the campfire is that this spot has been on the corner of Broadway/Belmont for over 50 years. Even if a bum was cooking this stuff with a hibachi in front of the Walgreens, I’d be sold.

But it’s not mayne; there’s a Hut over the heads of my Salvadorian bruddas. As I walk in, Juan Pedro quickly asked me to relinquish my chicken fantasies while Hector DeJesus manned the phones. I select the Half Bird Special D.M. (dark meat only) and Juan grabbed the tongs and began disintegrating breasts, legs, wings and thighs. The sides were family picknick style: cole slaw, potato salad, corn, rice, or mashed potatoes and gravy. Chicken has to have bread right? Maybe whitebread, cornbread or hushpuppies…But pita bread? Damn. Talk about a global village.

Not wanting to look all crazy devouring this shit in the street-side windows, I ran home ready to pounce on Chik-A-Hut’s finest. I opened my unenvironmental friendly styrofoam and witnessed true beauty.

Of course I got the mashed potatoes clown, I’m from North Carolina!

The roasted chicken was succulent. Seasonings dripped out alongside the grease which was locked into the meat by using proper searing techniques. This is what chicken was meant to be…fuck the dumb shit. All you dippers and dunkers out there, prepare to attach your Kool-Aid smiles.

The salsa is clearly what puts this delicatessen ova the top. You know I had to ask for two ramekins of this stuff. The cilantro and fresh tomato medley is what Colonel Sanders was missing when he concocted his 11 herbs and spices. Jewel Rotisserie step aside, some brothas from the REAL South are uppin the game up a notch.

(useless information that you need to know: The Colonel is really from Henryville, Indiana)

• Name: Chicken Hut
• Where: 3200 N Broadway St Chicago, IL 60657
•  Phone Number: (773) 868-1755