Gluttons will be in Peru for the next two weeks. Now would be a good time to rob our homes.

It’s been a love fest at Gluttons lately. Not a single pan this summer. We’ve got more thumbs-up on this site than an orgy at Tom Cruise’s house. More propers than a finishing school. More shine than a speakeasy.

And the love doesn’t stop with this post. Not when we gorged ourselves on the tasting menu at Terragusto Tuesday night. Not when, at the end of the night, when our sup had been taken, our meat-sweat-soaked brows cast a bedazzling glow that wrapped our gluttonous crew in what can only be described as The Rapture But With More Butter And The Slightest Hint of Nausea From Overeating. No, sir. It’s official: Gluttons wants to break off a piece of Terragusto.

Now, Terragusto gets press for its homemade pasta and emphasis on local and organic ingredients, and this is as it should be–their shit is fresh as hell here. Usually, though, when restaurants do the local/organic thing they don’t encouraging overeating. Moderation typically rules the day in these places. But not at Terragusto. You best turn your hypothalamus off, because these mu’fuckers are gonna serve you a bargeload of food.

I suppose if you just order an entrée off the regular menu this may not be true. But there’s no reason to do this. Either opt for the Italian meal, which gets you a salad, an appetizer, and a shared portion of meat, or choose the Chef’s Tasting Menu, as we did. I ate so much food my esophagus looked like a losing game of Tetris.  I was coughing up L-shaped pieces of pasta well into the next day.

Here’s what we ate. Let’s start from the top, shall we?

First off, a double dip of crostini, both top-notch. One with super-fresh tasting mozzarella and pesto, the other with a creamy smoked trout spread, drizzled with olive oil. Both on bread that crunched but did not crack. Both phenomenal. The mozzarella I’d eat by the handful on like a cruise ship or some white pants event; the trout’d keep me at a Sunday football buffet well into the second half.

Next up, salads. One was mostly dark greens with prosciutto and parmesan, while the other was dark greens, shaved zucchini, and more parmesan. There were other things in this salad but I can’t recall them right now. I think I remember tasting fennel in one of them. A more careful reviewer would probably keep notes on this sort of thing.  But then again, a more careful reviewer wouldn’t have split $23 worth of Taco Bell with a fellow glutton at 2 AM last night either, so there. They were really good, though, the salads. I’ve been putting parmesan on all my salads since.

The next round featured super-rich polenta with buffalo mozzarella, basil, and tomato. Oh my god is this polenta amazing. Dry polenta is barely worth looking at, but when it’s like this, like a butter/corn/something cake, I wanna take some home and try planting it in the ground. Someone needs to organize a prizefight between this polenta and these tamales. A corn-product battle royale. I’d put my money on the polenta. (No offense, humble but delicious tamale.)

Also in this round, a four-cheese ravioli with walnuts and sage. The walnuts saved this dish, which otherwise would have been slightly dry. Good, but next to the polenta, well, it didn’t stand a chance.

At this point, belts were already beginning to strain. The check engine light wasn’t on yet, but times was getting tough. And then our waiter (who was fantastic, btw) dropped off two of the densest bowls of pasta I’ve ever eaten. And like the little goldfish we are, we lapped it up.

One was a black ribbon pasta cooked with squid ink (actually cuttlefish, the sous chef told us later) and shrimp. Ahem, skrimps. I’m still getting dogged for worriedly scarfing the shrimp straight from the bowl so they didn’t go to waste at the end of the night. But those is skrimps, joe: they ain’t gonna eat theyselves!

And then a white sauce beef dish that I believe was tagliatelle bolognese but I can’t be sure. My eyes were barely open at this point. Whatever we’re calling it, though, it was fist-pumping awesome. Very rich–hamburger helper on crack, someone called it–and creamy. This is the food item I’d serve someone before a swim if I was trying to drown them. The iridium of the food world.

Okay, so here’s the point where the guilt started to kick in.  We’d already eaten far more than our fair share of food, and then we get hit with the topper: roast lamb and beef steak. Our waiter may as well have told us, “I know you’ve just wolfed down enough cream and butter to put ancient Rome to shame, but you know what, here’s two huge plates of straight-up meat, a little fuck you to starving people everywhere.” But guilt is for Catholics and Germans, so fuck it, we ran that shit.

Oh, and it was delightful! The lamb was a beautiful, fat-laden slab of meat that shredded at the mere shadow of a fork. It tasted like my grandma’s pot roasts back in the day, salty, juicy goodness with crispy edges and skin you fight over.

The steak tasted like movie theater popcorn, no shit. One bite in, I was like Alright, alright. Two bites in, I was like Damn, this tastes like movie theater popcorn, but in steak form. Three bites in, I was like  No, seriously, what the fuck is this and why am I only now eating this for the first time? I like my steak done rare or medium-rare, depending on the cut. This steak was nowhere near either of those and still I couldn’t get enough of it. The secret’s got to be the butter.

Things We've Eaten local ingredients, organic restaurant chicago, parmesan, polenta, terragusto chicago

I need to start this post off with an apology.  Gluttons readers, I’m sorry, I’ve been holding out on you.

I’ve eaten at San Soo Gap San three times a week, for the last six months.  I’ve spent over five grand on Korean bbq in 2008.  I am not joking.  But guess what mf’s?   I regret nothing.  If anything, I want it even more.  That’s the severity of mouth boner that I have for San Soo Gap San.  Let it be known that I’m a streaky eater.  I once ate the Qdoba Poblano-Pesto Chicken Burrito 3 times a week for 4 months straight and loved every minute of it (ignoring my friend’s pleas to stop.)  But this, my friends,  is something else entirely.

Let’s start off with this litte introductory video to set the pace and give perspective.   (if you have 3d glasses, put them on now)

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Welcome back!  So as you can see, this place doesn’t fuck around.  And yes, you saw it correctly, each table is equipped with its own ultra-hot wood burning grill.  I am not sure what type of wood this is, or what type of delicious-ass forest it grows in, or what scrumptious log cabin it might have been scavenged from . . . but christ all, I freakin’ love that wood . . . nay . . . i need that wood.  (I’m confident enough with my sexuality where I can write things like that.)

Anyhoo, the way that shit works at San Soo Gap San is slightly different than at other restaurants.  For example, at a Mexican restaurant, after you order your entrée, you are often rewarded with a basket of chips and salsa to help pass the time.  At San Soo, the free chips and salsa looks like this:

This is the part of the meal where the more sheltered diners start to panic.  The average American will most likely only recognize 1 of the 25 complimentary side dishes.  (potato salad) . .and honestly after eating these items dozens of times, I still have no idea what they are called and have only the slightest guess what they are made of.  My advice to you is to taste the things identified in the image above first and then venture into no-mans land.   As for items to avoid: anything that is translucent or reminds you of Predator’s active camouflage, imo is pretty gag nasty. . . so steer clear unless you’ve lost a bet.  Please remember, this is all a dick tease.  The reason for the season is coming up next. (sorry jesus)

Lets talk about MEAT (cue the death metal):

What you should order the first time you visit (in order of importance):

Appetizer:
- Chop Chae (gummy beefy noodle dish) - *warning - this seems easy to choke on, but it is worth the risk.
- Pajun (seafood filled pancakelike disc)

Main Course:
- Large ribeye (dip in the oil)
- Kalbi (marinated short ribs, dip in the brown goo)
- Dak Kalbi (spicy chicken, dip in the brown goo)

In conclusion, San Soo Gap San is the greatest restaurant in the world.  All other restaurants are bullshit in comparison.  I love it so much.  I am gay for it.  I would marry it.

Things We've Eaten best korean chicago, best restaurant ever, chicago korean bbq, korean bbq chicago, san soo gap san

When I was in college, I rarely told people that I grew up in Indianapolis. Then my fam moved to NOVA, and I was quick to rep a city that had Go-Go and crack far above a city that featured the Indy 500. But alas, things change. People change. After my pseudo-exodus from Indy, a southern mom-and-pop joint opened up two locations in downtown Indianapolis called Yats; transforming the “Capitol of Conventions” into a neo-Bourbon street. Soon after, I made the pilgrimage back to Nap-Town. I tasted Yats and yucked it up like some fat mom jokes.

But hey, hold that gas money or Megabus fare playa, because a few weeks ago, the cajun crazies appeared in the West Loop.

Don’t let the location fool you…this is a restaurant built for the common man who likes to throw some chilies into the bowl called life every now and again. Half orders are $4.50, full plates are $5.50, and its $6.50 for any combination. There are no printed menus because the shit changes up everyday.

I didn’t catch Joe Vuskovich-the New Orleans owner/restauranteer-up in the fray, but he has effectively infused classic Southern hospitality with Midwestern corn values. A kat called Nate greeted me promptly as I finished pouring my Country Time Lemonade via fountain, showing me love for rollin thru. Wall decor was plentiful but the room still felt bare. It musta been a lack of sweat filled groans of pleasure that I am used to experiencing at the Indy locations. Soon come dough.

Enough non-food talk, peepith:

Above, we have the round robin shot by my boy drooo (a Nap-Town transplant who co-signs on the goodness). The plates-of-Yat clockwise: B&B, White Chili w/ Cheese (sour cream added), Pazole Stew, Curry Mushroom Ettoufee, Ropa Vieja (behind the Sriracha), Chicken Maque Choux, and Chili Cheese Ettoufee w/ crawfish.

It ain’t no muhfuckin fire drill at Yats; these kids slang flavors like Sysco Foods slangs frozen buffalo wings. Every flavor in the dish is clean, not muddled. Cajun spices are balanced by layering at various stages during creation of the dish which yields a flow of flavors. Taking a bite of a Yats dish is much like slamming the last bowl from a box of Count Chocula. You get the marshmallows AND the toy. Any haters out there that think its not possible to have that cake and eat it too? Well, its time for you to step the fuck off.

And now we gon get all up in Yats’ personal:

I call this my “Trio of Glory Laced in Styrofoam.” I ripped through the containers like it was Christmas ‘83, trying to get at what was lofting behind the wrap. The Chicken Maque Choux ended up taking gold. Listen, I don’t eat corn. I consider it a waist of time for my bicuspids to chew something that is going to come out with the same identity that it went in with. But these little yellow biddies were on some wow-me-now shit. The ettoufee was a perfect balance of sweet and spicy dankness which mentally transported me back to Indy and reminded me that there is more than corn in Indiana (and it is not at Indiana Beach).

Word is bond, this restaurant is going to blow like Mount St. Helens. Yes, it is BYO, and I am also told that delivery into Loop will begin shortly so you fools can get your corporate cajun on.

We’re going bless Yats with our gold placard of Solid Food Goldness, but unfortunately doesn’t exist yet, so hold tight Joe. Utmost props for creating a product and making that shit fucking correct. Lastly, a welcome to the fine city of Chicago. We can’t wait for January when you will electric blanket our cold souls.

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As you may have guessed, Chicago Gluttons primarily reps people of various colors. Take heed dough; we aint no puh ass, pigeon feeding fools. Be it hot dogs or foie gras, we only fuck wit the best. So, yea shunn, last week we transported the krew to Japonais to get all Kristy Yamaguchi with it. Pops was right…you get what cha pay fuh.

Don’t mind ole boy in the pleated $29.99 Dockers. He was in town from Jersey City.

Five of us ate $415.00 deep into the menu. It was like culinary rape; tearing through dishes like the Father, Son and Holy Ghost ordained it. The menu became our Koran…and we read thoroughly. That said, I’m not going to feature everything here…this is just some highlights to get your mouth yearning for compensatory time.

Out the gate, the Ahi Tuna Ceviche and “The Sushi Bar Special” (both pictured above) got full bars. Both dishes were extremely fresh and light; a perfect compliment to a duckbutter filled, dishrag Sunday. The tempura shallots and english peas showed prowess and guile by the dueling kitchens (Japonais has two different kitchens; two different chefs).

When the lab-with-knives brought out the Kani Kani, we were B. Gumped. IQ’s reduced exponentially; drool ran profusely. The crab claws were wrapped in skrimps and crab mousse, then stacked for aesthetic presence. A tru delicatessen not for the light hearted. Think seafood lambchop and you’re pretty close.

Oh no, you are not seeing things…the plate featured two baby crabs fried hard n’ shit.

Mains featured the Salmon Japonais and Chilean Seabass Cartoccio. That oil-like substance you’re viewing is “curry oil” which the USDA will soon be marketing as our next sustainable fuel source. The salmon rested on two sticks of melted butter and whole cream. Our hearts made valiant attempts to avoid the cholesterol surge and the hypertension which would soon ensue. A few chest pounds treated our palpitations to a potent laxative.

I’m not even going to say anything bout the “Le Quack Japonais.” My fellow Gluttons will let cha ya know what I’m taumbout:

Rary- “You heard the duck was good? Good? I lived that shit last weekend brah. . good is a huge understatement, this shit is the motherfuckin’ white knight. Lets put this shit in SAT format so you can understand:
Michael Jordan is to basketball as Japonais is to Duck. Wooh . . I just got goosebumps. I gotta take a shower now.”

Rin Rin- “I don’t know what they did to that duck, but when Punchy and I went I wanted slap him in the face with a piece of that poultry because it was so dank!”

By the time dessert arrived, the Glutton krew was weak but not skurred in the slightest. We chop down gluttony like ya boy Paul Bunyan (No axes. CGs savage uncharted territories and plant pork in developing nations). You know how we do before the shop closes: sugar coated, chocolate filled doughnuts complimented by fresh green tea ice cream.

Japonais did us correct. I might consider a second visit if I can avert taking out a second mortgage.

Dinner, Lunch, Things We've Eaten