B. Titcomb back in this!  After popping out 7 kids, Moms finally decided to get that hysterectomy on, so I had to play nurse while her pussy healed… Fuck all that nonsense, lets talk gluttony.

Have your lips been blessed with the honor of sliding over this creamy duck goodness?  Did you crack the duck egg yoke and let is ooze on the crispy seasoned fries?  Did you mix the leftovers into your bathwater?

Fries topped with duck fat gravy, homemade cheese curds, and duck fried egg.  Shiiiit.  I fittin to get DUCK BUCK.  Thanks for posting this one up, cliffetters’.  Remember to VOTE GLUTTONS so we can collectively stick a dagger into 312DiningDiva’s fake titties.

Culinary Centerfolds, Dinner, You Have to Fucking Try This CG Flickr Group, Chicago Gluttons, duck confit poutine, Nightwood, TOC Eat Out Awards 2010

Palmer House?  The fuck?  No, this post aint about the Twentieth Annual Meeting of the Society for Text & Discourse or that time your boss told you she’d pick up a couple AWDs (after work dranks) at the Lobby Bar, then cut out early, leaving you with a healthy tab.  Nah, fam, this post is about a gotdamn sandwich and the food scientry going on at Lockwood.  Not familiar with Philip Foss?  Wrong Answer.

Skip that $5 footlong college bullshit and head straight for the pros.

Pictured above, we have the Shortrib sandwich served along truffled potato chips, courtesy of KidItamae and the CG Flickr Group.  This flick honestly had us on some L.L. Cool J shit, licking lips every 20-30 seconds.  Be sure to peep Foss’ blog, The Pickled Tongue to see dood fulfilling his slave master duties, steadily cracking whip on the backs of the downtown culinary scene.

Culinary Centerfolds, Lunch, Things We've Eaten, You Have to Fucking Try This Chicago, Chicago Gluttons, Chicago Gluttons Flickr Group, lockwood, palmer house, philip foss

It’s December in Chicago, which means temperatures are dipping lower than Patrick Swayze’s white blood cell count. Time to get out your soups spoons, gluttons. Roy already pushed matzo ball. I’m gonna talk tom yum koong. Specifically, the tom yum at Opart Thai on Western, where they make soup so good I’d eat it if they served it out of Moises Alou’s cupped hands.

The soup, served in a sterno-heated, donut-shaped cauldron, is a drool-inducing flavor bomb. Snappy shrimp and big ass straw mushrooms float with lemon grass, cilantro, and thai peppers in a broth that’s more addictive than black tar heroin. Slightly oily, slightly gingery, freshly spicy, a bit of citrus acid, this broth is a combination on par with the great French sauces of the culinary world. All other Thai joints are rendered useless once this soup is consumed. Put this soup in a lineup with the city’s other tom yums and it’ll look like a Smurf farted on an Ansel Adams photo. Opart’s tom yum is the Crayola 64 Pack w/ sharpener. Everyone else’s is hand-me-down colored pencils.  I’ve never met a soup I liked better.

Tom yum koong--you better ask somebody!

Opart does not fuck around. Order this soup extra spicy and expect to shit your pants the next day. Chicago Gluttons has proof of this. One of ours asked the waiter to “bring the pain,” an order which the kitchen gladly obliged. The soup, typically a beautiful yellow-orange hue, came out looking like Satan washed his hands in it. Shit was deeeep red. To avoid being overly graphic, let’s just say that someone jettisoned a pair of underpants the next day. It was a very spicy soup.

Next time someone orders the tom yum this way, I want to see this ticket hanging in the kitchen.

Things We've Eaten, You Have to Fucking Try This

Holy shit it’s getting cold outside. It’s weather like this that makes you wonder who had the nards to settle in Chicago in the first place. I mean before gas furnaces, snuggies, and dog snuggies, how was this survivable?

Step one would probably be cutting your way into a obese tauntaun for warmth, Skywalker style.

Step two: DRINK SOUP! Some of you might be skwakin’ about “The Soup Box” others are going to call out Clam Chowder at Glenn’s. While both are great choices, I’m about to unleash the punch yourself in the face, motherload of winter busting soups. You need this and you didn’t even know it yet. Once you taste it, you’ll regret the lost time you could’ve had with it.

Matzo Ball Soup @ The Bagel . . .

Kadang:

It’s more delicious than it looks . .

The chicken broth tastes like The Colonel’s bathwater (that’s a good thing.) Perfectly salty and with a strong chicken flavor. But the Matzo Ball itself is one of the wonders of the world.
Matzo the Size of Oprah's Fist.

Neither liquid nor solid, this Matzo Ball is made of a space age material that has no mass, yet still occupies space. When stroking it with a spoon, it ribbons like high quality iced cream. If you shake it, it will tell you your fortune.

Oh yeah, did I mention that it comes with unlimited pickles? Try to imagine that (you can’t.)

How can one fit an infinite amount of pickles in a finite amount of space?

The texture is impossbly soft, like eating one of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man’s testicles (also a good thing.)

Eyes up here buddy.

Now go get a bowl of this delicious soup, or people might start thinking that you’re anti-semitic. Happy Hannukah!

You Have to Fucking Try This best matzo ball, matzo ball soup, unlimited pickles

Pregunta: What the eff is huarache, joe?

Respuesta: Masa as fresh as Rappers Delight, stuck into a grimy ass tortilla press, all jammed together by frijoles fritos, cousin.

You could easily throw some chimichurri on this flatbread fucker and call it nap time, but go head and select from the dozen+ items that Dona Chio throws your way.  I suggest the tinga (spicy marinated chicken), chorizo con papas (yall best know what the fuck is up) and rajas (grilled vegetables).  Authenticity bukkake.

Wanna Reading Rainbow my ass?  Dona Chio.  Google map them shits out, Waldo’s World.  Your depressing and disheartened Albert Derrion and 2016 Olympic bid (Eat A Dick, Oprah!) office convi will fade out like Brian Austin Green.

You Have to Fucking Try This Chicago Gluttons, dona chio chicago, flavorfuckery, huaraches chicago

When I moved here, I stayed with my Aunt Lucinda who has a spot in La Grange Park.  On Sunday afternoons, after 6 hours of sweaty Baptist church service, we’d hop on the 20 north bound, up in the Cut, with a propensity for consumption (Aunt Lucinda puts food DOWN, yall) headed straight for Priscilla’s Ultimate Soul Food.

Someone cue my fucking soul claps and high hat.  Grab a tray and some orange drink.  Its time to revive the cafeteria dining experience.

Even though Ive moved into the grid, with food at my fingertips, I can honestly say that I miss these Sunday road trips.  The clientele was old and it smelled like moth balls, but if you’re eating soul food, these should be prerequisites. 

Appreciation to Defiant Conviction for bringing southern style gluttony back to the front page.

You Have to Fucking Try This Chicago Gluttons Flickr Group, Defiant Conviction, Priscilla's Ultimate Soul Food Chicago