(What do you mean I am damn boring?!?)
Correction: since I have been dating Mr. Quite Unsure. He might say what he wants, food is always in the realm of certainty for him. He might take some time to decide on what to eat, but the eating in itself is never questioned.
Not that it should. One needs to eat to live, right? But during the last five years I have to admit that we fell, more often than not, on the dangerous other side of the Molière's line. Live to eat, that is (just in case you are a little slow today and need to have things plainly spelled out for you. You are here to relax not work your brain)
Yes....I am ashamed to admit it....it only happens sometimes, only once in a while, well...
Oh boy.
But here I beg to stand up for myself. See, it's not entirely my fault. I might be a glutton, fine. (Really I am a gourmande, we have establish that a while ago but if you really want to insist...). I am surrounded by people who are only too happy to oblige my vice. Some are even worse than me. Yes, it's possible.
And living in Chicago doesn't make anything easier.
Back at home the image of the US gastronomy-wise is rather...how could I put it? - tarnished.
Between burgers, hot dogs, ice cream and donuts
French people (the villains at least, with big noses, twisted smiles, warts and an evil laugh, Disney style) think that Size XXXL Uncle Sam has nothing to chew on.
Brothers, forgive them because they know not what they say. Or do. Or even think.
Sigh.
Nothing could be further from the truth. I am no expert, no culinary critic and the only kitchen I have control on is my own (and even that is highly debatable. I can do things in the kitchen, but have control??!?! Hmmmm...not sure. I only leave disaster and consternation on my path, and occasionally a few happy tummies. But the kitchen itself?!? Yes, it's a m-e-s-s. ). Still I can say without any doubt that the best food I have ever had in my life was on that side of the pond, way west of the Icelandic ash cloud.
Eating my way through Chicago, Yelp in my pocket, Yelpers by my side (or not) I tasted the world better than in any other place. I chowed down my share of burgers (Kuma's + Aurore = AESD, amour éternel sans divorce like we used to (cynically) write in our grade school notebooks... quite revealing of the generation we were belonging to, right?), a few dawgs here and there, and I have a thing for Dunkin Donut's coffee (medium, cream only. Beats Starbucks BY LARGE, lemme tell ya.)
But there is so much more.
New American cuisine?? Even if I am not sure about the concept (or its name) I surely enjoy the end results. When it's well-done (I am looking at you Naha, Sepia, Blackbird and onesixty blue among others) it's inventive, creative, fresh and darn delicious.
Mexican birria? Go to Maxwell Street Market on a Sunday morning. Don't take care of anything else but the Mexican food stands. If it smells good, go for it. Goat soup is the best. Or better yet, trek all the way to Birrieria Zaragoza. DIVINE.
Japanese tonkatsu? For the neophytes: it consists of a breaded, deep-fried pork cutlet one to two centimeters thick and sliced into bite-sized pieces, generally served with shredded cabbage the meat is usually salted, peppered, dredged lightly in flour, dipped into beaten egg and then coated with panko (breadcrumbs) before being deep fried. Served over sticky rice.....boy. Check out Sunshine Cafe or Itto Sushi for a taste of it.
And for udon - nabayaki udon - the best of the best is to be found in the 'burbs: Sushi House.
Ethiopian injera? yeast-risen flat bread traditionally made out of teff flour? My fave is at Ethiopian Diamond. But that - you can find in Paris. For some reason. Who knows.
Jamaican goat curry? Go no further than Jamaican Jerk, which is far enough since it's right by the city limits. But it's delicious and spicy enough to make a Sinhalese sweat. True story.
Costa Rican platanos maduros? or 'ripe plantains' en Inglés. Irazu is for you.
Swedish pancakes? Ann Sather is an institution, but more specialized in cinnamon buns. Elephant buns. Svea and Tre Kronor are more likely to satisfy you. Don't forget your lingonberries, and your trip to Ikea.
Venezuelian arepas?
Vietnamese pho?
Thai tom yum?
Korean kimchee?
Polish smorgasbord?
I travel endlessly, leaving a (food) love(r) in every port of the city, North, South, West and beyond. Nothing is out of my reach. And it's a true and always renewed pleasure to jump in the car, filled with the anticipation of yet another meal to come.
Paris would never offer such a diversity, and/or such quality. Parisian dinners and restaurateurs alike are more focused on their bellybutton than their stomach per se. A real culinary adventure is incredibly hard to come by. It is slowly changing, sure but we are still many years behind and always hesitant to embark on the last trend of the eating world. Latino food is still hard to come by, and finding a good, authentic Mexican restaurant is mission impossible. But - sadly enough - we hopped on the fast-food train with enthusiasm. Mc Donald's French market is the second of the empire, and the French CEO is so highly regarded for his aggressive marketing techniques that he might well become the company CEO.
Isn't it ironic?!?
Meanwhile I savor the planet one bite at a time.
I love Chicago, its 215 neighborhoods, and its thousands of restaurants oh so much. Pounds be damned.
Correction: since I have been dating Mr. Quite Unsure. He might say what he wants, food is always in the realm of certainty for him. He might take some time to decide on what to eat, but the eating in itself is never questioned.
Not that it should. One needs to eat to live, right? But during the last five years I have to admit that we fell, more often than not, on the dangerous other side of the Molière's line. Live to eat, that is (just in case you are a little slow today and need to have things plainly spelled out for you. You are here to relax not work your brain)
Yes....I am ashamed to admit it....it only happens sometimes, only once in a while, well...
Oh boy.
But here I beg to stand up for myself. See, it's not entirely my fault. I might be a glutton, fine. (Really I am a gourmande, we have establish that a while ago but if you really want to insist...). I am surrounded by people who are only too happy to oblige my vice. Some are even worse than me. Yes, it's possible.
And living in Chicago doesn't make anything easier.
Back at home the image of the US gastronomy-wise is rather...how could I put it? - tarnished.
Between burgers, hot dogs, ice cream and donuts
French people (the villains at least, with big noses, twisted smiles, warts and an evil laugh, Disney style) think that Size XXXL Uncle Sam has nothing to chew on.Brothers, forgive them because they know not what they say. Or do. Or even think.
Sigh.
Nothing could be further from the truth. I am no expert, no culinary critic and the only kitchen I have control on is my own (and even that is highly debatable. I can do things in the kitchen, but have control??!?! Hmmmm...not sure. I only leave disaster and consternation on my path, and occasionally a few happy tummies. But the kitchen itself?!? Yes, it's a m-e-s-s. ). Still I can say without any doubt that the best food I have ever had in my life was on that side of the pond, way west of the Icelandic ash cloud.
Eating my way through Chicago, Yelp in my pocket, Yelpers by my side (or not) I tasted the world better than in any other place. I chowed down my share of burgers (Kuma's + Aurore = AESD, amour éternel sans divorce like we used to (cynically) write in our grade school notebooks... quite revealing of the generation we were belonging to, right?), a few dawgs here and there, and I have a thing for Dunkin Donut's coffee (medium, cream only. Beats Starbucks BY LARGE, lemme tell ya.)
But there is so much more.
New American cuisine?? Even if I am not sure about the concept (or its name) I surely enjoy the end results. When it's well-done (I am looking at you Naha, Sepia, Blackbird and onesixty blue among others) it's inventive, creative, fresh and darn delicious.
Mexican birria? Go to Maxwell Street Market on a Sunday morning. Don't take care of anything else but the Mexican food stands. If it smells good, go for it. Goat soup is the best. Or better yet, trek all the way to Birrieria Zaragoza. DIVINE.
Japanese tonkatsu? For the neophytes: it consists of a breaded, deep-fried pork cutlet one to two centimeters thick and sliced into bite-sized pieces, generally served with shredded cabbage the meat is usually salted, peppered, dredged lightly in flour, dipped into beaten egg and then coated with panko (breadcrumbs) before being deep fried. Served over sticky rice.....boy. Check out Sunshine Cafe or Itto Sushi for a taste of it.
And for udon - nabayaki udon - the best of the best is to be found in the 'burbs: Sushi House.Ethiopian injera? yeast-risen flat bread traditionally made out of teff flour? My fave is at Ethiopian Diamond. But that - you can find in Paris. For some reason. Who knows.
Jamaican goat curry? Go no further than Jamaican Jerk, which is far enough since it's right by the city limits. But it's delicious and spicy enough to make a Sinhalese sweat. True story.
Costa Rican platanos maduros? or 'ripe plantains' en Inglés. Irazu is for you.
Swedish pancakes? Ann Sather is an institution, but more specialized in cinnamon buns. Elephant buns. Svea and Tre Kronor are more likely to satisfy you. Don't forget your lingonberries, and your trip to Ikea.Venezuelian arepas?
Vietnamese pho?
Thai tom yum?
Korean kimchee?
Polish smorgasbord?
I travel endlessly, leaving a (food) love(r) in every port of the city, North, South, West and beyond. Nothing is out of my reach. And it's a true and always renewed pleasure to jump in the car, filled with the anticipation of yet another meal to come.
Paris would never offer such a diversity, and/or such quality. Parisian dinners and restaurateurs alike are more focused on their bellybutton than their stomach per se. A real culinary adventure is incredibly hard to come by. It is slowly changing, sure but we are still many years behind and always hesitant to embark on the last trend of the eating world. Latino food is still hard to come by, and finding a good, authentic Mexican restaurant is mission impossible. But - sadly enough - we hopped on the fast-food train with enthusiasm. Mc Donald's French market is the second of the empire, and the French CEO is so highly regarded for his aggressive marketing techniques that he might well become the company CEO.
Isn't it ironic?!?
Meanwhile I savor the planet one bite at a time.
I love Chicago, its 215 neighborhoods, and its thousands of restaurants oh so much. Pounds be damned.
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