Did you say bacon trapeze??

Hi all! I know it has been a while, but I've been busy, ok? By way of update, my clinical trial in Chicago didn't prove successful, so I moved back to Detroit in June. I tried another cocktail when I returned (of the chemo, not gin variety), but that wasn't the winner either. Last week I started my fourth chemo regimen and have all of my fingers and toes crossed. I'm pretty pukey these days, but you know what they say...I'm only one stomach flu away from my goal weight.

That being said, just because I don't live in a fantastic pad off Michigan Ave, I still have a lot to say about noshing in Chi-town. Before I saw the windy city in my rearview mirror, I hit dozens more restaurants that you'll want to know about. I'll do my best to keep you in the loop (no pun intended) from my couch in Novi.

Knowing my penchant for spending too much on dinner, many of you have asked my thoughts on the space that is widely considered the crowned-jewel in the treasure trove that is the Chicago foodie scene. Opened in 2005 by cult-followed Grant Achatz, Alinea is the hardest table to get in town, and the back story on this place make the experience interesting and tasty.

Achatz is a Michigan kid who studied at the Culinary Institute of America before working at French Laundry (in my humble opinion, the best restaurant in the world) under Thomas Keller. A few years back, Grant was diagnosed with a rare tongue cancer. Doctors told him they would have to remove his tongue, and essentially end his career. After seeking high and low, he found doctors at the University of Chicago who agreed to take a different approach...saving his life and those gold-plated taste buds. Take a look at http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2008/05/12/080512fa_fact_max.

This fierce young chef has gotten accolades from every source, and his rockstar status has allowed him a lot of creative freedom. Diners can choose to sell their firstborn for either a twelve course or twenty-four course tasting menu, paired with wines if you want the bill to look blurry. Each course is a bite designed to be a sensory experience. For example, in a nod to lemon curd and earl grey tea, a sweet bite is served on a pillow filled with tea-scented air, which slowly dissipates as you eat. Really? If I have ever "bought" a "dining experience", it was here.

After waiting five weeks for a reservation, I left my inhibitions and my credit card at the door and sat down with my cousin Krisy and her sweet husband Sid. Krisy has been wanting to try this place for a couple of years, and Sid acquiesced. Only when we arrived did Sid mention that he didn't really like truffle, roe, foie gras or chocolate. Pretty much the "fancy" food groups. What a good sport.

We sat down to our four-hour meal and I was pleasantly surprised by the quirky staff. Despite a hipster sommelier who was trying too hard, the staff really enhanced the meal. Each course was like the presentation of a gift.

Highlights? A vichyssoise served in a wax bowl with a pin you pull to release a "hot" potato and slice of truffle into the sip. Also, a handmade spring roll wrapper made of pressed flowers (displayed as a "flag" on the table before it was incorporated into a course) was filled with pork belly and each dinner could choose to add nearly a dozen different ingredients. Drew described it as the "best burrito ever." He touts it as is his best bite to date. The pinnacle for me? A single ravioli-of-sorts filled with a "truffle explosion". I've never experienced anything like it.

Was this place over the top? Did I mention the candied bacon presented on a trapeze? Enough said. Despite the "bubble gum" shooter finale (Krisy, you're a brave girl), the dishes were delicious and memorable. The presentation was unparalleled. Sid left hungry and went across the street to get a taco. Can't win them all...

Glad to be back kids! More to come.

Schwa-ha-ha-ha

First things first...I just found out yesterday that it looks like my chemo clinical here in Chicago isn't really working for me. That said, I will be headed back to Detroit soon to try another kind of chemo in the next couple of weeks. That's the cancer part. How will that affect my eating plan? Well, I have about 20 tables that I have been lax about writing up. I'll get right on that. Plus, I have at least 10 places that I still want to hit, so I'm hoping to be able to have a small eating frenzy before I head back across state lines. I will likely have to finish writing in Michigan, so keep checking back even after I've left. I'll let you know when I'm out of nonsense to spew. Have I mentioned that I gained 12 pounds since I started this craziness? I blame you.

Back to business. Last weekend I finally got a table at a place I have been losing my mind about since I got to Chicago. Schwa is a 26 seat restaurant on Ashland which is literally across from a tire store. When I arrived, the cab driver said "I think it might be closed." This underground supper club is very hot right now (as it has been for years) and it is impossible to get a reservation. That is for a couple of reasons. First, there is no staff at this place. There are a handful of chefs, who create the meals and serve the food themselves. The chef proprietor is a James Beard Award nominee for Best Chef in 2010, and has been featured extensively in the press, including a huge spread on him and the restaurant in GQ magazine. Check out the VERY interesting article located on this page from the restaurant's website: http://schwarestaurant.com/#press. "Schwa" is a word that these childhood buddies used to describe something very cool and chill.

Diners are offered a 3 course or 9 course prix fixe menu and the place is BYOB (Hallelujah for market-priced liquor). Because of the size, they NEVER return your phone calls. I quite literally called EVERY DAY for 3 months trying to get a table. I'm a stalker. You knew that. The other reason which makes this place reservationally-challenged, in my opinion, is that I think some of these guys might be partaking in some herbal supplements which make them more relaxed than the average restaurant proprietors. Now that I've had my table, smoke 'em if you've got 'em.

The room is very cool (with a patina ceiling, exposed lightbulbs dipped in aluminum (?) which are half art, half function, and very interesting ombre spray painting on the walls. I'll mention, right off the bat, that this place is clearly much cooler than me. One of the "front of the house" guys (the chef-proprietor's kid brother??) sat us and had to ask what kind of water we wanted three times. It was a later reservation, and I'm certain he had found ways to "relax" a number of times throughout the evening before we arrived. Once, he went out front for a few minutes and Dana asked what he was doing out there upon his return. His reply? "Magic." Perfect.

As with many BYOB spots, we had too much vodka and wine (the chefs even joined us in a couple of shots. Yes, I know I am too old for that). Whoops. The mood in the place supported our inebriation. We made friends with nearby diners (Hi Sarah!) and after around 11, the girls at the table behind us started doing cartwheels in the small aisle. The chef noted, "My restaurant has turned into a circus." That vibe was only supported by the loud soundtrack, which included the chefs favorite bands, including Eminem, Beastie Boys, Jill Scott and Atmosphere. Plus, if you had to go to the bathroom, your "waiting room" was in the kitchen, so you could talk up the chef who was preparing your next course. I love that crap.

Now to the food. The nine courses sampled had some highlights and lowlights. Too many of the courses were overseasoned, and the celery panna cotta dessert was just too weird for me. Some of the sauces, however,were truly something to write home about, and the tagliatelle with huckleberry was REALLY special. I must say though that each and every course was creative, thoughtful, artistic, and invented with true culinary skill. The flavor profiles may be above the heads of many diners, but the craft behind their inception cannot be denied.

All that said, this was the most fun I have EVER had at a "fine dining" restaurant, hands down. Many "f-bombs" were dropped. Microgreens were scattered "whimsically". One chef, while describing a dish, offered that they finished the dish by "shaving some truffle on that shit." Good food without pretension cannot be overstated. I LOVED it. Leave your folks at home...not that you'll ever be able to get a reservation...

Hot Diggity Doug

When you think of Chicago, dogs come to mind. And I don't mean my 5 pound attack dog, Rusty. I'm talking about a Vienna beef dog on a steamed poppy seed bun with yellow mustard, bright green relish, a dill pickle, tomatoes, celery salt, chopped onion and sport peppers (small pickled peppers from the cayenne family). I'd never had one before, and I thought the best time to do a hot dog taste test was when my friend Kari finally came to visit. Kari loves meat. Particularly encased meat. She is hot dog crazy.

So on a sunny Monday in April, Kari came in to go to the Cubs opening day game (thanks for the tickets Dick Starmann!! Who gives away their opening day tickets??? True generosity.). After a beer at the Red Ivy, Kari and I headed into Wrigley to glory in our awesome seats. After the first pitch was thrown, however, we headed through the tunnel in search of a dog.

First, we went to the "Chicago Dogs" stand. Apparently a favorite of R.G. Starmann, this dog was a little lackluster to us. They didn't have all of the toppings, and the dog hadn't seen the grill for long enough, in my opinion. After scoping out ALL the other stands in the ballpark, we decided to try a "Footlong Dog" for round two. In fairness, the footlong dogs didn't have the right bun, and offered a number of additional toppings (Jackie loves sauerkraut) that don't a Chicago-dog make. There is no chili involved. Round two was surprisingly delicious. May have been the Old Style.

Now nothing quite compares to a dog in the ballpark, but Kari and I both felt that we hadn't experienced the real thing. After some careful research on good dog joints in Chicago (Wiener Circle and Superdawg also made the top five), we decided to have lunch at Hot Doug's (The self-proclaimed "Sausage Superstore and Encased Meat Emporium") the next day.

Hot Doug's is kind of legendary around these parts. I first heard about the place from my friend Dan, who swears by Doug's dogs. I was told to anticipate an hour's wait, but a great lunch. Kari and I arrived at noon, and found quick parking (this place is in the middle of nowhere!) and a surprisingly short line. We were at the counter in less than 10 minutes.

Doug, who takes everyone's order himself, has about 10 dogs and sausages that are on the menu every day and a dozen more specials. When we got up to the counter (after posing for a pic with Doug) Kari got "The Marty Allen" ... a Thuringer dog (Hello der beef, pork and garlic) with spicy mustard and a dill pickle. I got "The Dog" (A Chicago-style dog with all the trimmings). We also split one of the specials...a Weisswurst with spicy mustard, kraut, and shredded horseradish-cheddar cheese. All were ordered "a little burnt". Mmmm. A side of hand-cut fries rounded out our gluttony.

We sat at a tiny table with our bounty before us. Now I should mention, I usually don't like hot dogs unless they have so much crap on top that you don't even know you're eating a dog. The only dogs I have ever really enjoyed were from Yesterdog in Grand Rapids (get the killer dog...it's not on the menu, but you won't be disappointed. It is literally towering with crap on top. Heaven.)

Doug's dogs won me over. Perfectly grilled so that the skin was toasty, but not split open yet, these dogs were super flavorful. The bun was warm and didn't disintegrate like the ones at the ballpark the day before. The toppings were fresh and added in good proportion. The french fries were double fried and extra crispy. The photo above is Kari's pic of the feast before we dug in (she strangely photographed all our dogs during her visit).

Kari and I even checked out Doug and noted his lack of wedding ring. I think she could really love a man who runs a hot dog empire. This place was so good that I even bought a T-shirt. Really? Yes, I did.

So after 3 hot dogs in 2 days, I finally feel qualified to weigh in on Chicago's most famous namesake food. I'm in. Thank you Doug, and bring on the sport peppers.

I Have a New Favorite...

Kids, we have a new winner. Last night I had my best meal in Chicago. Here goes.

At the risk of sounding amazingly pretentious, I'm kinda sick of tasting menus. Somebody just give me a whole meal of food please? Well, ask and you shall receive. In an adorable brownstone on Ontario sits a quaint little french restaurant called Les Nomades. This place used to be a blueblood private club, and was assumed by the current proprietor (a charming lady named Mary Beth, who greets each guest as they arrive) in the early 1990s. The chef has been updated, but the place has consistently gotten high accolade. Strangely, it sits next to a lackluster Japanese place, a low-end nail salon, and a suspicious piano bar.

When the meal started, I was a bit wary. The waiter, came over with the amuse bouche (a delicious cauliflower soup with white truffle foam and gruyere gougeres...cheese puffs for you and me). He set it down, without any fanfare and said, "Here's some cauliflower soup." Now, I'm kind of particular, but there was clearly more on my plate than soup. For the price of your tip, do me the grand gesture of telling me what you've brought me. Super annoying. So, in typical Jackie fashion, I called the guy back over to the table, and asked if he would tell me more about the dish he had just served me. He pointed to a leaf on the left side of my plate and said, "There are some microgreens." No shit, Sherlock. Don't screw with me. The roll of my eyes finally got his attention, and after that, he did a much better job. Amazing how one lackluster staff member can come close to wrecking a perfectly good meal. So glad that things turned around, because if this phenomenal food had been detracted by a guy with bad hair, I would have been super mad.

Back to the food. I started with a sampling of five house-made pates. Have I mentioned how much I love pate? The squab liver was the best one. Then on to an asparagus salad with a perfectly poached egg, coated in crispy breadcrumbs, topped with jamon serrano and shaved Parmesan cheese. If you've read my earlier posts, you know how I feel about beautifully cooked eggs, not to mention Iberian ham.

But here is where it gets exceptional. The chef went off the menu that night and served me the most delicious Dover sole I have ever had. If there is Dover sole on a menu, I can't NOT order it. This little guy was deboned in the kitchen and served with a lobster cognac sauce and morel mushrooms. It was utterly perfect. I didn't even want to talk to anyone because I wanted to remember the flavors. I could eat it every day. Which, in summary, makes it my best bite in Chicago so far.

I finished the meal with a cheese course (some really interesting artisanal selections), a light and pretty apple tart, and a glass of Madeira. Perfection.

I can't afford to come back to this place (it unexpectedly broke the bank), but I wish I could. Save it for special occasions, and come on Thursdays, when I understand you can BYOB (despite their lengthy wine list...this has to be a mistake, right?). AMAZING food, right in my 'hood. Who knew?

Here's the Beef

Ever since I arrived in Chicago, I've been told to forget the dogs and pizza. While tried and true windy-city favorites, the real star in this town is the Italian Beef. Considering the press these sloppy sandwiches have been getting on the travel channel and Food Network, I'm guessing that was good advice. So after my last round of chemo starvation, I was finally ready to dive into to the thinly-sliced goodness that is Mr. Beef. (A sidenote here. There is a city-wide rivalry between Mr. Beef and Al's Italian Beef for the best sandwiches. My brother told me Mr. Beef was the best. My brother knows sandwiches. So that's that.

For those of you unfamiliar with this novelty, an Italian beef sandwich is very thinly sliced roasted beef, which has been marinating in jus, loaded onto a soft Italian bun. You can order it sweet (sweet bell peppers), hot (hot peppers and "giardiniera"...spicy, pickled, celery-based, root vegetable goodness), and/or wet (quite literally doused in the jus after the sandwich is assembled, but before wrapping it up). Purists, stop here. Others add cheese or other veggies.

On Monday I headed up to the counter. I assumed, as with many cult sandwich shops, that I would be ridiculed for not knowing the proper way to order. The beef gods aligned, however, and the the nice kid behind the counter schooled me in all that is Mr. Beef. Mine was hot and sweet with provolone. No "juicy" for me...not a fan of soggy bread, but I hear that I may have been short sighted. Add in some cheese fries and a tall fountain drink (much needed after my twelve block preemptive workout walk), and you have a little piece of heaven.

FYI, they also sell other stuff here too, but why? When I was in there, I heard a woman order a chicken sandwich with ketchup. You're at Mr. Beef. Why are you here? Go home now.

At around $10 for lunch, this may be the best money I've spent in the city so far. The bread was perfect. The beef, fresh and spicy. The giardiniera was perfectly tangy and not too hot...don't miss this part even if you're scared of the concept. The drink was cold. And the sleeper winner? The most perfectly crispy skinny fries. Real surprise fan favorite. The cheese sauce was of the canned variety, but with all the other hits, I'll take one miss. Word to the wise...don't wear anything you love. I easily went through more than a dozen napkins with this beast.

Judge's ruling? This is worth the hype. Bring cash and an appetite. And someone to help you walk home...you'll need it.

Steamed Pork Buns anyone?

In Chicago there are about 1000 restaurants to love. In Detroit, for many years, there were about 5. One of the top spots on the D's hit parade was a great spot called Tribute. But in true Detroit fashion (despite great food and service), some genius opened this place right next door to an Amaco station in the burbs. Really? Who is the wizard who dreamed that up?

Well, the helm at Tribute was originally run by a talented young chef named Takashi Yagihashi. Born in Japan and French trained, this once James Beard Award winner for "Best Chef - Midwest" stopped in Detroit for a few years to give us a treat. When he tired of the traffic at Orchard Lake and 12 Mile, he came to Chicago to open his namesake restaurant. He has since opened another outpost at the Wynn in Las Vegas. Fancy.

Takashi is located in a charming old house in Bucktown, which seems contradictory to the trendy neighborhood surrounding it (the house was once home to Chicago Top Chef winner Stephanie Izard's former restaurant Scylla). With only a handful of seats, this place screams 'cozy". Ask for the corner table upstairs if you go...adorable.

I could give you a list of what I ate for dinner, but that is unnecessary. There is one thing you MUST eat if you go there. Steamed Pork Buns. Un. Freaking. Real. As I previously mentioned, pork belly is on every menu in Chicago right now (who can blame?) but these morsels were, hands-down, the best pig I've had in a decade. I mean it. The delicate buns were the perfect texture, the pork belly sweet and flavorful, and the lovely little sandwiches were served with the most amazing spicy japanese mustard. I could have eaten 15 of them. No, really.

Then I found out that I COULD eat 15 of them, should I choose. On Sunday afternoons, Takashi opens his kitchen for a "noodle" lunch. Not only does he offer a bevy of homemade japanese noodle dishes, he also serves up small plates of other treats, like the pork buns, for something ridiculous like $5. Go. Now.

Not only is this place quaint, but the food is good, the bartender is inventive, and Takashi prides himself on being in the kitchen all the time. If you want a first class meal, head to Bucktown. And bring me back some of that mustard. Wow.

Back to Bayless

Now let's return to the infamous Rick Bayless again for a moment. This guys is everywhere in Chicago, and now has 3 restaurants all in a row on Clark Street...high end (Topolobampo) mid-range (Frontera Grill) and walk-up (the aforementioned Xoco). I'm still trying to get in at Frontera, which (mostly) doesn't accept reservations, but is supposed to have some mean guacamole. One of my first challenges in Chicago, however, was to try and get a coveted reservation at Topolobampo. Notoriously difficult to snag, I was able to secure a table for a late Friday evening in Lent.

I mention my Catholic traditions because when I arrived, I found that there were two tasting menus available (which, you'll have noticed, I dig) but both were designed for carnivores. All you who know me, of course, can confirm that I don't let a menu limit me, particularly when there is a Top Chef Master in the house. I pleasantly asked my kind waiter if there was any chance of subbing out the meat dishes for something a good Catholic girl could nosh on during a Friday in March. I was promptly denied.

Much to me delight, the waiter returned a few moments later and asked, "Are you a friend of Rick's?" My reply, "No, but I would like to be...is he in the kitchen tonight?" Affirmative. Hot.

Not only had my waiter inquired with Mr. Bayleyss if he would consider a substitute, he offered to create a meatless tasting menu just for me. This also meant that I could cross off a goal on my life list...have a meal prepared personally by a world class chef.

The five course menu presented was fine fare. For those unfamiliar with Bayless, he is a traditional Mexican cuisine purist. No tacos here, kids. I'm talking achiote, mole, masa, and the like. Each course was flavorful, authentic, and interesting. And for abouot $70, not unfairly priced. To accompany the meal, there were interesting margaritas, and a selection of homemade fruit waters to refresh the palate...a big plus for my liver.

Now, you all know that I couldn't possibly leave this place without wiggling my way over to meet Mr. Bayless. On a shameless stalk (under the guise of a powder room jaunt) I found Rick at a table in the back of the restaurant and thanked him for a memorable meal. Maybe next time he'll ask me to sit down and give him my feedback on the spread...or maybe he'll just check out the blog...

Gaga over Lula

When I asked my friend Elizabeth, who has been in Chi-town for about 10 years, what her favorite restaurant was, she told me about Lula Cafe in Logan Square.

Now Elizabeth is way cooler than me, in a Wicker Park-hipster kind of way. As I looked into Lula (which is oft referred to as Cafe Lula, Lulu Cafe, etc.) I thought I really might not be beatnik enough to get served here. So with Elizabeth in tow for some street cred, we went for lunch on a weekday afternoon.

A word about timing. We walked right in and were promptly seated only because we arrived at 2pm on a Tuesday. On a weekend at the bewitching brunch hour, expect a wait of an hour plus, and a receptionist who will look at you in a way that will let you know what she thinks about you. That drawback aside, the crowd is here for a reason. The food is amazing.

Lula has a few different option for the menu. There is a brunch menu (Tom Colicchio of Top Chef fame said it was the best brunch he's ever had...apparently he ordered the stuffed french toast...I knew you would wonder), a cafe menu served all day, and a separate dinner menu. There is also a special Farm Dinner on Monday nights when the chef puts together a tasting of what is the freshest at the moment. The menus change seasonally depending what's available locally. Many (most?) of the ingredients come from independent farms. Liz and I decided to share a couple of dishes so I could see what this joint was really all about.

Other than the icy hostess (experienced on a later visit) I really don't have anything bad to say about this place. The waitstaff was attentive and friendly... particularly because we sat there for about three hours chatting over mugs of coffee, which they gladly refilled about every 3 minutes. The room was interesting. The ever-changing menu piqued my curiosity. And the food. Oh, the food.

We had a beet bruschetta with goat cheese that brought a tear to my eye. We followed it up with a slow-cooked pork breakfast burrito (off the brunch menu) and risotto with a 60-minute egg (which was beautifully cooked and had the consistently of custard. Yum.) There were PERFECT pea shoots on the risotto, and when I mentioned how much I loved them to the waiter, he told me that one of the sous chefs grew them in his garden. Shut. Up. (Footnote, this was a little "commune-y" to me, but yet crazy delicious.) For dessert, we tried a shockingly fresh-tasting apple sorbet and and a stupid-good carrot cake. For all the food we ordered, the bill was very reasonable.

Walk...no RUN... to Kedzie Blvd. and check this place out. You really won't be disappointed.

Hello Blackbird

Ok...here's another big dog. Last night I hit Blackbird, which is on just about everyone's "Top 5 of Chicago" list. Chef and James Beard Award Winner Paul Kahan, along with three partners, opened this trendy spot about 10 years ago, and people have been talking about it ever since. The place has been so successful, that sister restaurants Avec, The Publican, and Big Star have popped up in its wake and are all getting acclaim.

Joining me last night were friends Colby and Mike. Colby is never one to shy away from a challenge, so he suggested we do the tasting menu as a table. At $100/pp, this is one of the less expensive ten course tastings in the city (ouch). Here is the good and the bad...

First, the good. Service was attentive and unpretentious. Everyone who works here seemed (to the bystander) to genuinely enjoy each other and not hate their jobs. The cocktail menu was really inventive (more on that later) and we never felt rushed (dinner took 4 hours). And one big thing...the waitstaff waited until everyone at the table was done with each course before removing any plates. This should be common practice, but you wouldn't believe how many waiters have no idea that it is completely rude to take one diner's finished plate while their tablemate is still enjoying their food. Nice job Blackbird staff. Also, they get a check-plus for not raising eyebrows or noses when we ordered a really modestly priced bottle of wine. On a hilarious note, there is an orange curtain hanging in the ladies room. If you push the curtain aside, there is a larger than life black and white photo of a scantily clad man. I love places that don't take themselves too seriously.

Generally, the food was pretty good. I try not to refer back to a tasting menu when doing a write-up because I think that if I don't remember it, it must not have been that awesome. Memorable bites include the honey parfait with passion fruit (served with a coconut "sponge")...my favorite thing all night, the peking duck, served with a DELICIOUS cabbage, and the baby octopus with black garbanzo beans (which I got to taste because I couldn't eat the ahi...or any raw food right now...boo).

Now for the less-than-good. Some of the bites on the tasting menu were underwhelming. The king crab was really rubbery, as was the lamb. The cream cheese gelato was just plain weird (although Colby loved it. Colby's kind of weird though too). Some of the protien was underseasoned in my opinion. Many of the sauces seemed to be more motivated by creativity than by flavor. The room is really trendy (all white), cramped, and not very comfortable. At the risk of sounding 100 years old, it was really loud, although the room was nowhere near full (I think the accoustics were really poorly designed). My (amazing) citrus-y gin cocktail had fragrant lavender floating on top, which by the end of the glass looked like there were bugs in my drink. Creepy.

This is probably a good time to note that I realize my opinions (as all opinions) are completely subjective. That being said, I'm pretty sure Mike hated everything at dinner last night. The only thing he consistently thought was good were the plates on which the food was served. He thought they were really nice-looking. As a meat-and-potatoes man, I'm pretty sure he went home hungry. If you don't really dig fancy food, this is probably not the spot for you. Sorry Mike...hope you got a burrito on the way home.

At the end of the day though, I thought this place lived up to most of the hype. On a return visit, I would probably just stick with a couple of strong dishes off the regular dinner menu. Or maybe I'll just get three courses of the honey parfait, and a delicious martini, hold the bugs.

Sunda-licious

At the behest of my dear brother (hereinafter, "The Ric"), I'll fill you in on one of the best new hotspots in town. Well, maybe not so new (it opened in March 2009), but Sunda is hot for sure. With a bustling cocktail scene, you may just have an "Us Weekly" moment (Julianna & Bill and Jillian & Ed have both been spotted here). Now that I have your attention, they have good food too.

Sunda was designed by the Rockit Bar guys to be a complete Asian fusion restaurant. With dishes from Thailand, Japan, and even Cambodia, it covers the spectrum of Asian dining. The chef, known as the Food Buddah (because of his belly, not his spirituality), has recently gained acclaim. He even had a pretty painful spot on the Today Show last week demonstrating the restaurant's signature tempura rock shrimp(which I recommend, btw). His tv personality may not lead him to be the Next Iron Chef, but it'd be fine with me if he just kept that belly of his in the kitchen in Chicago.

Now on to the highlights. I tried this place with The Ric and my SIL Jenny, who happened to know a terrific member of the waitstaff. Have I mentioned I love free stuff?? Not only did we get a great table in the "sushi kitchen", but we were given tastes of some of the best things the menu has to offer, and more good recommendations than room in our tummies. Try the duck hash salad and crispy pata pork shank.

Where this place really shined for me was the sushi. Sometimes traditional, sometimes avant garde, the rolls here are worth your time. Some might look at the Lobster and Waygu roll (lobster, scallions, jalapeno, kobe sashimi, truffles and foie gras) and think "weird". I think, "get in my mouth". Is it possible that the Food Buddah managed to cram all of my favorite things into a single bite that I could eat with chopsticks? Um, yes.

I'll be back, FOod Buddah...I'll be back.

Trot Right Past (a.k.a. "That cost how much??")

Those who know me are well aware that I am willing to drop some serious dough for a memorable meal. But if I'm going to part with a piece of my shoe fund (when you have a big ass, you buy designer shoes, not designer pants), the meal needs to be very creative or very delicious. Preferably both. I'm afraid Charlie Trotter's was neither.

I should start by saying that my dinner companions were the best part of this meal. On a quiet Tuesday evening, Starmann and Jonni (who both made my extended stay in Chicago, therefore this chemo treatment, even possible) joined me in Lincoln Park at Charlie Trotter's. My expectations were high after reading that this was one of the top tables in Chicago.

I could waste your time by giving you the details of this 8 course prix fixe, but even I would be bored reading that...and I'll read anything about food. I think there was some average duck. If I can't tell you what I ate 3 days later, the meal wasn't worth the larger-than-life price tag. Plus, they nickel and dime you like crazy. A gratuity is included regardless of the size of your party...what, did you think I would stiff you? Tacky. Did I mention that we were charged $8 per person for "water service"? TAP "water service".

And another thing...I feel pretty certain that one of our three waiters was drunk. Not that I have a problem with someone getting loaded, but I draw the line at doing it at work. Every time he opened a bottle of wine to pour a glass for a table he gave himself a healthy "taste" to make sure the bottle was good. He was slurring. I should note that I wasn't allowed to drink that night because of this chemo -- I think we found the source of my bitterness.

In a nutshell, the room was outdated, the service stodgy and snooty (except, of course, for the dude who was canned, who actually still managed to be snooty (snotty?)) and the product that came out of the kitchen was nothing to write home about. So I'll stop. You could eat at Chipotle for a year for this bill (and we all know how I ADORE Chipotle). Starmann and Jonni, I apologize...

This One's My (Current) Favorite

Tucked into a tiny hole-in-the-wall on Walton (one block south of tony Oak Street) is a little respite from the Chicago wind. I first walked through the doors of Pane Caldo a few years ago on the arm of a friend (shout out Starmann!!) who has shown me some of the finer things that this city has to offer. Pane Caldo is a bowling alley-shaped restaurant (there is only one really private table and it is on a pedestal in the front window...watch and be watched, so wear your nicest shoes) serving delicious Italian fare using the most simple, beautiful ingredients.

For me, Italian food has to be pretty special to be memorable (like the best lasagna I've ever eaten in Little Italy in Cleveland, of all places, but that's a different blog). Not only is the food great at this place, but the service is terrific too. The first time I was there, the sommelier offered us tastings of a few different wines, and brought us a taste of mostaco d'asti (a very sweet Italian sparkling wine...which as many of you know has been my favorite way to finish a meal) with dessert. Jackie loves free crap. Maybe this place bought its way into my heart with gratis liquor. Wouldn't be the first time.

I've been back many times since, most recently with my fab mom, who has an impeccable palate. Sadly, she tried something pretty inventive on the menu, and hated it. Again, to the credit of the staff, they noticed that she wasn't touching her entree (some weird pumpkin ravioli with veal or something) and brought her the lightest gnocchi in America as a replacement.

For a lingering dinner, check this place out. Just don't ask for the table in the window...I've already reserved it...

This Little Piggy

Pork. I get it. Pig is hot right now. I'm not sure there is a single menu in the city that doesn's have some sort of pork belly on it today. But The Purple Pig has taken pork in a fun new direction...pig tapas. Mmmm.

After hearing about this place from a waiter at another restaurant, I checked it out for lunch the other day. At first I was wary, because it was right on Michigan Avenue at Nordstrom, so I thought they might be going for the tourist crowd. This place had character though!

The menu is small plates, and includes everything from olives to pork shoulder. The charcuterie choices are vast, including more than a dozen cheeses and meats from all over the world (have I mentioned that I could eat my weight in jamon serrano?). There's a really interesting wine selection (full of stuff you've never heard of, but our waiter was really knowledgeable about the choices) but not many beers from which to choose.

The best thing I ate? Pork pate. At $5, it was a real steal too. A delicious bowl of pate served with thick, warm grilled bread brushed with olive oil. You'll need extra bread...ask for it immediately. Honorable mentions? The crispy pig ear with egg (trust me. try it.) and the Sicilian Iris dessert (a fried brioche pastry filled with chocolate chips and ricotta cheese. Completely. Amazing.).

Honestly, there wasn't much about this place I didn't like. They have communal seating, which can be questionable at times, but also have private tables if you prefer. I prefer. The grilled octopus (usually a fav of mine) was tender, but under seasoned. The olive oil ice cream (with an olive oil drizzle and a sprinkle of sea salt) was weird, but at least interesting. Biggest disappointment? The fried devilled egg is only served at night because they are so labor-intensive and sell out so quickly. You had me at devilled egg.

I think this relatively new spot is really going to take off, so get there before pig becomes passe. And invite me!

Tru-ly Something

I have been a Food Network Freakshow pretty much since the channel's inception. As such, I have been a lover of all things Gale Gand for more than a decade. Tru (which is the brainchild of Rick Tramanto and Gale Gand...he cooks and she bakes) has been a mainstay on the Chicago food scene for a long time. That being said, you need to save a month's salary to eat there, so it took me a while to convince myself that the reservation was worth it (read, "it took me about 2 minutes to decide that the reservation was worth it").

I am generally a fan of tasting menus. I figure that it gives a chef his or her best shot at impressing me. However, after a memorable experience at French Laundry(I booted after the most expensive meal of my life because my tum-tum just couldn't handle 16 courses which incorporated 7 pounds of butter all at once...ahh regret), I try to reign it in a bit. At Tru, you can choose between 2 tasting menus or a three-course prix fixe. I went for the latter and added in some fun tastes in between.

As you should expect, the service was terrific. The portions were not overwhelming, and the presentation was memorable. But the best thing about this place...wait for it...the chicken. Did she just say chicken? Who goes to a five star french restaurant and orders chicken? Well let me tell you, it was the most delcious thing about this place, inlcuding the bites of heaven sent out by Ms. Gand. I asked the waiter what he recommended (in addition to the beef tartare and foie gras that I can never pass up) and he said "chicken". Well, this slow-cooked jidori chicken with black truffle, celery root and black trumpet mushrooms made me swoon. Picture the juciest chicken breast you've ever tasted COVERED in layers of sliced black truffle. I mean covered, like shingles on a roof. Um, yes please.

There were, of course, some downsides (A glass of vodka should not cost $17. A single bite of langostine does not an appetizer make). That said, the room was interesting and pretty (but a little stuffy?) and the staff took good care of each guest. Will I shell out another month's mortgage for dinner there, probably not. I already bought my dining experience and wasn't so over the moon that I want to make it my regular Tuesday place. But for a special occassion, it was pretty special. Tru-ly.

Ahh, Rick Bayless

There is one thing that everyone in Chicago seems to agree upon...the genius of Rick Bayless. I'll write more about the first winner of "Top Chef Masters" in later posts, but know that I dig this guy more than I anticipated.

After my lackluster experience tonight at Unos, I stopped by the new Bayless joint Xoco for a cup of joe and bite of something sweet on my way home. Located right next door to the other Bayleyss mainstays, Topolobampo and Frontera Grill, this new spot is going to get really popular really quickly. Or maybe it is already. I'm new.

At Xoco, you wait in line, order off a chalkboard, and then can get your order to go or wait for a table. Sounds like typical fast-ish food. It is anything but.

Looking at the menu, it seems like you can get some pretty authentic Bayless food at a really decent price. THe open kitchen showed me just how good the fare looked, and I will surely be back for something savory. If so, I'll let you know how it goes.

Tonight, I got an order of takeout churros and a cafe con leche. My total was $7, but after tasting the still-warm churros, I would have paid twice that much.

If you're waiting in the inevitably long line at Frontera, I suggest heading next door instead for some fab food at a fab price.

P.S. I know I'm not supposed to eat sugar and fat when I have cancer...get off my back...I'm working on it.

Chicago "I'm Gonna Be in it Deep" Dish

Over the next few weeks, I'll try and summarize the spots I've hit so far, one by one. I've got some catching up to do. But while I'm still thinking about it, I have to comment about a super lack luster dinner this evening.

I hate to start a blog about Chicago food by dogging on Chicago-style deep dish, but sometimes you've got to do what you've got to do.

Tonight I had my first slice of stuffed pie. And I have to say...ehhh? Totally not impressed. I'm a Jersey girl (for those of you who didn't know), so maybe my east coast thin-crust roots are showing. I did not understand this gigantic pizza though.

First, the experience was poor. I checked in at Pizzeria Uno tonight (apparently the original deep dish in the city, per the Food Network). The wait was 30 minutes (which is nothing at this place), but you have to order your pie in advance of being seated because it takes an hour to bake. Well, the 30 minute wait turned out to be 75 minutes, and then I still waited another 30 minutes at my table for the pizza to come. In the meantime, I had some salad, which was essentially lettuce with red wine vinegar on it...exactly what I expected. By the time the 'za arrived (after asking about my elusive dinner maybe 7 times?), I could have put some parm on my shoe and it would have done the trick. Check minus on experience.

As my friend Charlie told me to expect, this pizza is closer to lasagna than anything else. The crust was plentiful, but strangely crumbly. Huh? The sauce was chunky, and needed seasoning. When I have to put salt on pizza, something has gone terribly wrong. In fairness, today was a Friday in Lent (and I'm a good Catholic girl) so there was no traditional sausage or pepperoni to add much-needed flavor. Probably not my best call. I ordered it stuffed with mushrooms, spinach and broccoli (a special on the menu), and the toppings were all pretty good. The mozz was delish and fresh.

At the end of the day, I didn't even want to take the leftovers home. And I NEVER leave food. Clearly, Chicago pizza is a matter of personal preference. I don't think it will matter which joint I choose or the toppings du jour... I just don't think this pie is for me...

First of all, welcome...

Ok kids, here goes nothing...

My name is Jackie, and I have a big ass. Not to mention, I have cancer. How do those to things interact, you ask? Well, I was diagnosed with stage IV ovarian cancer at age 31 last year. I went through 9 rounds of chemo in Detroit. In December, I was diagnosed with a recurrence. Needing a more "creative" treatment, at the suggestion of many oncologists, I signed up for a clinical trial combining chemo and a new drug being conducted at the University of Chicago. That's the cancer part.

So when I moved to Chicago a few weeks ago, I needed to find something to fill my time when I felt well enough to get out of bed. What does Jackie love to do? Eat. Just about anything. That's the big ass part.

While I'm living in Chicago for the next handful of months, I've decided to hit as many of the fab restaurants that the city has to offer as I can. I have a long list of places I'm dying to try and I'll try to cross them all off before I leave. At the suggestion of friends, I've decided to blog about my restaurant tour of Chicago.

That being said, I think blogs are amazingly egotistical. I entertain no delusion that anyone will give a shit about my opinions on these spots. My mom is probably the only person who will read this. In any event, I will memorialize my time here in hopes that someone (anyone?) will benefit from the time, dollars, and calories I expend in search of the perfect bite. Did you just hear that? It was the sound of my ass expanding...