The Restaurant Right Below Me
This is my last post as a resident of Chicago. As I write this, I am on a train with all of the clothes I own (and some of Empanada Boy’s) to New York City. I’ll arrive in time for the orientation for the M.A. program at Columbia University’s Graduate School of Journalism. EB will join me in a couple weeks. We have spent the past week or so trying to say goodbye to our friends and relatives in Chicago. We’ve even said goodbye to some of our favorite restaurants, like Tanoshii, the sushi place where we had our first date (which I didn’t know was a date). But I decided my last post in Chicago would be devoted to a restaurant that EB and I had never visited until last weekend. Though we had never eaten there, we were intimately familiar with it. We know this restaurant almost as well as we know our own kitchen because we live above it. And after two years of smelling the sausage frying every morning, we decided to stop in for breakfast at Ravenswood Restaurant. My friend Berry Jamb, who lives in the neighborhood and couldn’t believe we hadn’t tried it, came along.
You may be wondering why it took us so long to try a restaurant that was just sitting there below us. There are a number of reasons. First, it isn’t open very late for dinner, so we usually turn to Erick’s Tacos across the street. Secondly, I almost always prefer to make food in my house if I’m not going out for a special meal. We never order in, and when we do pick up food nearby, we almost always bring it home. Finally, I always assumed that Ravenswood Restaurant was a dive-y diner, serving greasy home fries and mediocre omelets, which is how it looks from the outside. In fact, Ravenswood Restaurant probably does have these items on its rather encyclopedic diner menu. What I didn’t know is that it also has a fantastic section devoted to Mexican and Latin American breakfast specialties, obviously the foods the cooks and servers actually eat at home. Needless to say, we ordered from that section.
Berry Jamb had raved about the Guatemalan breakfast (second picture from the top), which he ordered again and let us sample. It comes with scrambled eggs, black beans, fried plantains, chorizo or longaniza links and warm corn tortillas. The longaniza that Berry ordered was definitely the highlight of the dish— full of spice and juicy flavor. EB struck gold with the Guatemalan chilaquiles (pictured on top). These were thin layers of fried corn tortillas spread with a smoky chili-infused sauce and stretchy cheese. Rice and refried beans came with it. My dish— Huevos Mexicanos— was eggs scrambled with tomato and green pepper with sides of beans, rice and corn tortillas. It was a little less enlightening than my compatriots’ meals, but it could beat a standard diner breakfast any day.
Perhaps the most delightful part of the meal was the two homemade salsas served alongside the food. The red was hot and dusty from smoked peppers. The green one was even hotter, burning our mouths and making our eyes water. Our waitress came by to ask about our meals: “Is the salsa too hot for you?” “No way,” we replied. And she smiled. It’s the little things, like the extra heat in the salsa that let you know you’re eating something approaching authentic. And to think, it was waiting just two floors below us all along.
Ravenswood Restaurant
1968 W. Lawrence Ave.
Chicago, IL 60640
773.561.9010
There is a strange little space right down the street from my house. It has a small ground level space cut down the middle with stairs that lead up through a pseudo-mudejar archway meant to evoke Arabian palaces. It used to house a Moroccan cafe called Marrakesh Expresso, which had hookah and low cushioned chairs around tables in the windows, but which never seemed to have any customers. Empanada Boy and I used to talk about going there sometime, but we never got around to it. Sadly, I don’t think there’s anything we could have done to save the place. We weren’t surprised to see a “for lease” sign hanging in the window a few months ago.
The restaurant is BYOB, so EB and I started things off with some Sapporo left over from our last sushi outing. EB was feeling in the mood for something substantial, so he ordered the Unagi Don (pictured above). It came in a lacquered box filled with pickled ginger-flecked rice, topped with strips of grilled eel (unagi). The unagi was coated in the sweet, teriyaki-like sauce, traditionally used with eel. The dish looked beautiful, but the fish served a little too cold, and even the rice was lukewarm. This made me wonder whether the dish had just been prepared or if the pieces had been sitting around in the kitchen for a while. My nigiri sushi, shown here, was fine but definitely not amazing. I had a piece of yellowtail and a piece of red snapper. The quality of the fish was decent, although not as thick or firm as I thought the $2.50 and $2 a piece price tag merited. The rice could have also been a tad bit warmer.
Grand Katachi’s maki menu seemed to be mostly made up of cooked fish. Only a few of the pricier rolls had super white tuna and other notable fish additions. Not feeling like springing for an extra $5, I went with the spider maki. These were made with deep fried soft shell crab, avocado, scallion and a spicy Japanese mayo. I like this roll because it’s crunchy on the inside and softer on the outside. This particular version, while tasty, wasn’t innovative or inspiring. The ingredients were good, but there was no flavor that stood out and carried the dish beyond the average. 
As you may or may not know, Empanada Boy is in the process of converting to Judaism. We’re taking a class together where we study the basic principles and practices of the religion. While we were gone for Thanksgiving we missed a class where a panel of converts spoke about the actual stages of conversion. Feeling this was important, EB and I decided to try to meet with one of the panelists to discuss the issues one-on-one. How does this relate to food, you ask? Here’s how: we met with Ice Creamista (who, incidentally, used to manage the Sweet Occasions near our house) at the fabulous 
Located just East of the Montrose Brown Line station, Glenn’s Diner claims to serve “the best food in the world.” While it’s tough for me to go out on a limb at age 25 and assert the truth of that claim, I can definitely get behind it’s spirit. Glenn’s serves fantastic, simple food, made with excellent ingredients. And the casual cafe atmosphere makes it all the more enjoyable. The place was packed on the snowy Tuesday night we visited. Glenn’s is open for breakfast (served all day), lunch and dinner. But it is most notably a fish and seafood house. A chalkboard menu adorns both side walls listing the numerous fish specials of the day. Glenn’s also offers all-you-can-eat Alaskan King Crab legs and baby back ribs on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, respectively. That’s in addition to a lenthy menu of burgers, sandwiches, meats and chowders. Glenn’s First Catch Special— 1/b fresh fish, roasted red potatoes, salad and soup is a steal at $11.95. 
EB and Ice Creamista wanted to try more pricey items, but I kept things inexpensive by ordering the Lake Perch Po’ Boy. Made with small, battered and fried lake perch filets and house made tartar sauce, this sandwich on a crusty bun really hit the spot. Fittingly, as it was the first night of Hannukah, the sandwich came with the option of a side of potato pancake. EB continued the theme when he ordered the potato pancake encrusted whitefish pictured here. The crispy potato shell gave way to succulent, tender fish. Apple sauce and sour cream came on the side. (Is Glenn a Jew too, we wondered?) Ice Creamista tried the grilled barramundi, which came with a roasted red potatoes and a pretty little clump of green beans.
I have long been wanting to review an ice cream shop on this blog. I’ve written about frozen custard, and it was almost a year ago now that I first featured the great gelato shops of Rome. It’s about time I brought some good old fashioned ice cream into the mix. You may think my timing is off. You might ask: “Isn’t ice cream more of a summer food? Why introduce it just as the leaves are falling from the trees and nighttime temperatures are dropping below freezing?” Well, the truth is that there is no bad time for ice cream. I like to eat it all year long and as often as possible. Anyone who disagrees is just crazy. It’s the best way to treat yourself in the depths of cold winter or when you’re just not feeling good about things. For these reasons, and because I am always looking for an excuse to eat ice cream, I bring you 
Sweet Occasions sells candy, cakes and elaborate pastries. It also sells delicious looking savory food like sandwiches, meatloaf, quiche and salads. (I say deliciously looking because I’ve never tried these.) But when Empanada Boy and I think about Sweet Occasions, we think of ice cream. The ice cream is made by Wisconsin’s Chocolate Shoppe, which makes EB even more partial to it. EB’s favorite flavor is black licorice. It’s actually more of a deep, dusty purple color and tastes better than it sounds. It has a twist of spice and is a little less sweet than other flavors. Sweet Occasions considers licorice a standard flavor, but we seem to find it more often during the colder months. EB gets very excited when it appears in the case again in the fall. I am also a fan of the seasonal flavors. When we went there last month I got a scoop of Snap-O-Lantern. It’s a spiced pumpkin flavored ice cream with bits of gingersnaps mixed in. 
EB is in Madison this weekend, so I went in to get myself a scoop last night. Snap-o-Lantern was gone with Halloween, but in it’s place was another of my favorites: Zanzibar chocolate. A blend of dark chocolates from around the world, including cocoa from Zanzibar, this is no ordinary chocolate. For one thing, it’s much darker in color than the typical chocolate ice cream. It’s also very rich and concentrated in its chocolate flavor, making it worthy of special distinction beyond regular chocolate. I got the sizable scoop you see here for a mere $2. A trip to an inferior location like Cold Stone Creamery could set you back $5 and give you a stomachache to boot.
Each day on our way to and from the train stop near our apartment, Empanada Boy and I have passed the same places. There’s a Chinese joint, a liquor store, a bar, an antique shop and a chiropractor’s office. Then comes a bold yellow sign decorated with old-fashioned circus-style writing and a picture of a giant hot dog. It’s 
Budacki’s and other places like it are known for their hot dogs. The Chicago-style dog is more than a genre— it’s a religion. Like everywhere else in the city, these are all-beef numbers, locally-made by the Vienna Beef company. The ones at Budacki’s come all dressed up with mustard, pickle spears, tomatoes, relish and onions. The freshness of these accompaniments accentuates the pure, beefy flavor of these tasty dogs. Empanada Boy tried the double hot dog meal during our last visit. (Actually, I should say mylast visit since EB’s been back since.) Thin, crispy french fries come with the all of the meals. Budacki’s somewhat ridiculously advertises these as “pomme frites” on a sign outside.
But EB’s favorite is the Italian beef: thinly sliced layers of beef cooked in a broth with oregano and other spices. It’s served in a crusty roll, which is often soaked in the broth used to reheat the meat. The meat is usually topped with a spicy hot pepper relish called giardinera. Italian beef is a signature Chicago dish and is apparently difficult to find outside the Chicagoland area. According to 
The early signs of a new restaurant opening the neighborhood are always enough to fill me with curiosity and excitement. But when Empanada Boy and I learned that a new restaurant moving in down the street from us would have over 50 beers on tap, we were itching for it to open. Finally we would have a nearby pub— besides the overly crowded, but wonderful, 
The beer lived up to our self-created hype, but the food could still use some work. I requested my strip steak sandwich medium rare, but it arrived much closer to well done. The meat tasted too dried out, and the flavored mayonnaise spread on the bun didn’t make up for that. Roasted vegetables improved things a bit, but the bun itself was also too dry. The accompanying French fries brought back memories of the deli at Portland’s Jewish Community Center, which is not necessarily a good thing. These were too limp and bland. Thick cut steak fries can be good— they just need to be cooked more crisply!
EB took it upon himself to test the burger. It looked nice and juicy and came with a choice of cheese and grilled onions. The burger was closer to medium than medium-rare, but more significantly, the quality of the meat just didn’t seem up to snuff. A more fatty and juicy selection would have made all the difference. But even if better meat weren’t available, a little garlic and some salt and pepper would have gone a long way toward helping this rather bland sandwich along. As with the steak sandwich, a fresher bun would have also been nice.
After living in Chicago for about a year and a half, I have gained an appreciation for the city’s traditional deep dish and stuffed pizzas. These are rich, filling, pizzas that truly merit the follower “pie.” But when I envision my pizza ideal, it is much closer to the chewy, slightly charred Neapolitan-style pizza served at 
When we did sit down, we ordered this delightfully fresh and flavorful caprese salad made with imported mozzarella di bufula and a moscardini salad— grilled baby octopus atop arugula, with a flavorful olive oil dressing. (Note: I foolishly forgot to bring my camera to dinner, so these rather grainy shots are the best we could do with EB’s new phone.) 
Our pizzas arrived soon afterward. The margherita (pictured above) was the picture of delicate simplicity. It came with a thin layer of lively, fresh tomato sauce spotted with melt-in-your mouth blotches of fior di latte mozzarella and scattered with fresh basil The pizza’s crust was wonderfully airy and infused with the deep flavors of olive oil and crackly char. We also tried the capricciosa, which was similar to the 
When Empanada Boy and I first moved to Ravenswood, I was excited to try 
As could be expected, the menu is also quite eggy. Sir Cheesealot and I ordered the Damen Avenue Omelet with portobellos, spinach and goat cheese from the Sunday brunch menu. These came with potatoes and toast. The omelets were something of a letdown because they didn’t contain enough mushroom or goat cheese and also because they were listed at a steep $10 apiece. These omelets were worth about $7-$8 tops, and I could make a better one for $3 or less. It crossed my mind that perhaps the fire insurance and rebuilding costs were trickling down to us.
The same $10 price tag overshadowed EB’s tiramisu French toast. This dish sounded a little too decadent for my taste, but delicious, nontheless. It was indeed tasty— made with two slices of thick Texas Toast and filled with almond-infused mascarpone. There was no liquor detectable, as in a normal tiramisu, but some diners probably can’t take their liquor for breakfast. Still, no matter how delicious the dish was, it was not worth $10. EB called it “underwhelming.”
Short Stack lived up to her newly endowed name and ordered “Emily’s Dream,” two pancakes filled with blackberries and topped with dots of whipped cream a ball of orange butter. The citrus in the butter made a nice complement for the sweeter berries. The pancakes were also tasty, and at a more reasonable price of $8, I might consider ordering them again.
Empanada Boy and I live in Ravenswood, a neighborhood that is heavily populated by immigrants from Mexico, so we are lucky enough to have some of the best restaurants and grocery stores in the city just steps from our doorstep. 
We ended up eating at a place called 
A little stand selling ribs, just a few blocks away from La Hacienda in Nogales served as another interesting point of comparison. The owner had a small tent with tables set up behind his open air grill, which faced the sidewalk. Huge beef ribs were cooking away, along with beautiful, fresh green and white onions. 
EB, Croque Monsieur and I would have happily advocated sitting down at one of the tables and eating our fill of ribs for lunch, but EB’s parents, Tofutti Cutie and Popover, weren’t quite up for the adventure.
Upon finding we had next to nothing in our refrigerator yesterday morning, Empanada Boy and I weighed our options and decided to try the 
In short, the reason you come to the Golden Nugget is the pancakes. We ordered a short stack— a pair of immense pancakes, which were remarkably light and fluffy. My normal experience with pancakes is eating about one and a half and then feeling too full of breadiness to continue. These were airy enough to polish off, although EB and I shared them. Bacon came on the side.