An Anniversary Toast to MK

We celebrated our four-year anniversary this week at MK, what I've always heard of as an "institution to Chicago dining." Brian's been there a bunch of times, and pretty much everyone in our little foodie group has too. Because of it, it's never at the top of our list;when you live in a city with new -- good! - restaurants popping up every time Tom Skilling says "lake effect," the oldies but goodies take a back seat.

I don't know what it was like when it opened 10 years ago and don't have multiple visits to compare to. But I will say it's worthy of its reputation. I love MK, and here's why:

• The food's just as innovative as some of the new folks' in town, which says a lot for a 10-year-old restaurant. Sure, there are a couple dishes that have been on the menu since the beginning (I hear the MOST AMAZING EVER (!) truffled frittes are one of 'em) but this place has changed with the times.
•  The staff were awesome and had a sense of humor, which really can make or break your meal, no mattter how great the food is. The staff at L20 last year were about as stuffy and stiff as you could get, and while Nomi's crew, for example, were extremely nice and knowledgeable, they were quite reserved. On the flipside, two cocktails, and glass full white and red wine later, we invited our MK servers to our wedding. It's completely ridiculous and not going to happen, but in the moment, it was a brilliant idea. When you laugh and joke with people all night long, it makes the meal all the sweeter.
• And the decor is awesome. It's warm yet contemporary. Wood beam ceilings, exposed brick but then contemporary tables and colors and whatnot. Really cool and comfortable. Yet ..
• There's brilliance in dressing up for dinner yet still being comfortable -- making a special meal an affair, a cause for celebration. They say all this on their home page. I love it, as these days, all we seem to do is dress down more and more. That's great, but it doesn't mean dressing up can't have it's place too.

Whenever people ask me for recs, I'm tempted to name the hottest spot or a relatively hot spot. This will be top of mind from now on.

Why You'll Like Longman & Eagle

Everyone's talking about Longman & Eagle.

"You like bourbon? Go for the bourbon!" our catering manager (just booked!) told us a month ago.

"It has a Michelin star!" my colleague said.

And like all things in Chicago, if you hear of 3.5 hour waits at 8:30 p.m. on a Saturday, it must be good, right?

I'm happy to report it is really, really, good. And here's why: Instead of in-your-face offal whose purpose is to shock (Want beef tongue? Here's a slice in the shape of the tongue! tease the chefs behind Publican) or weighs you down so much come course No. 2 you don't want to eat anymore (hello, Incanto), L&E balances everything really well.

Braised oxtail combines to make the perfect bite with scallops and tiny gnocchi; a pot au feu of short rib, tenderloin, foie gras, and horseradish marrow is actually really light and cleanly presented, not to mention well balanced with a consomme and vegetables.Brian had cod with some typically heartier accompaniments, but we didn't roll out feeling greasy and gross. The intention of the cod was maintained, gosh darnit.

Sure, wild boar's on the menu. But it's in the form of sloppy joe. That's fun.

We went on a Saturday night just before 6 and waited a half hour. I'd add it to your List of must-tries.

Girl & The Goat's Good!

I haven't told you about Girl & The Goat: It's good!

Earlier I wrote about being a little nervous that the restaurant would be "too much girl and not enough goat," my response to Stephanie Izard's face's being plastered all over the Web site -- clearly capitalizing on her "Top Chef" win. Would the highlight be the food, or the fact we're eating at a TV personality's (albeit a very likable one's) restaurant?

But I was wrong. Her seafood and vegetable dishes offer refreshing surprises; I'd compare her meat selections to that of other quality offal-loving chefs, such as Paul Kahan's at Publican.

Take this surprise as an example: light and fluffy chickpea fritters without a hint of grease, set atop cherry-size heirloom tomatoes and mozzarella -- what ended up being my favorite dish. A close second: the spicy, grilled baby octopus mixed with beans and a lemon-pistachio vinaigrette.

We also really liked the veal, goat and something-else sugo -- homemade thick pasta with meat that had a pulled-pork consistency -- and the pig face, which is like you'd guess, kinda like pork belly.

My least favorite dish ended up being a dessert Brian loved: a goat-cheese cheesecake with blueberries. I could barely swallow it; Brian nearly licked the tourine.

The atmosphere is sophisticated-casual as most gastropubs are these days, but unfortunately it's loud; get ready to yell your way through the meal. Still, we were seated promptly at our reservation time despite the full-house, and the service was great. When so many things are right, it's hard to pick a fight over the noise.

So Stephanie Izard's food really is as good as it looks on TV, and watching her expedite, she seems just as calm as she appeared. Good for her!

We'll be back.

Too Much "Top Chef?"

I just made reservations to Stephanie Izard's Girl and the Goat for Brian's birthday in August. We liked her food on "Top Chef," which is why we want to go.

Not surprisingly, the menu sounds good, but I gotta admit: all those photos are distracting. They're selling her personality and not the food, which is the part I really care about, even if I really did think she seemed cool personally.

Which makes me wonder about the eatery: Too much girl and not enough goat?

Now I get it: The Rick Bayless craze

I've heard Rick Bayless' name associated with the word genius for a while now, but I've never tasted his food until this week when we went to Frontera Grill. Honestly, I wondered not if his food is over-hyped but by how much.

I get it now.

Those were my words after my first bite into the first appetizer that came out, goat enchiladas, aka Enchiladas de Barbacoa de Chivo. The dish features a "Mexican-style chile sauce," and I wish I knew spices well enough to name them all. All you need to know is that they were smooth, complex and perfectly balanced, which I wouldn't necessarily expect from any type of Medican chile sauce.

And the goat: I've had goat before in African restaurants, and it always tasted a little gamey and was often a little tough. Of course Bayless' farm-raised goat was perfectly tender and flavorful. I imagine the goat sacrificing itself for the Rick Bayless cause.

We also tried the ceviche trio and for mains ordered the duck breast with Oaxacan mole (on the side: a fantastic helping of sauteed spinach and fritters) and cilantro trout with a guajillo-laced sauce. That was my dish, and it was just what I was in the mood for: something really flavorful that didn't get its punch from a heavy, greasy sauce. The smokey green beans and cheesy garlic mashed potatoes hit the spot, too. (See the menu for more details).

Given my love for food and trying restaurants with Brian, you'd think I would have made a beeline years ago to Frontera or Topolobompo -- especially considering they're couple miles away from where we live. Not only am I not one to rush out to something just because of a name, but until recently I didn't think I liked regional Mexican cuisine that much, mostly because I had had some overpriced moles at a restaurant and didn't like 'em. But I'm coming around -- flash back to my two trips to Mixteco Grill in January -- and having world-class preparation definitely helps.

I may or may not have bounced around in my seat when we potted Bayless in the kitchen. When you eat something that good, how can you not get star struck?

This isn't a groudbreaking discovery in the world of foodies, I know. For me, Frontera was an education -- and a damn good meal.

WE'VE GOT RESERVATIONS AT SCHWA

After one and a half months and one missed call, I finally got us reservations at Scwha. It's the dream we've been chasing -- the dream to return for Brian and I, to experience it for his brother Patrick -- with reservation nightmares.

If you don't know Schwa, take some time to get to know the story of wonder, a nervous breakdown, a hiatus and back to wonder.

It used to be that you'd call and have to book out months in advance. And calling to get a hold of someone to take your reservation was nearly impossible, thanks to the fact that five (I think it's five) people run the entire place. That was Brian's experience a year ago. Now, you have to call and either 1) listen to a repeated "Voicemail Box Full" message day after day or 2) Leave your information for a reservation request for the following month and pray you're around to get the call when it does come -- weeks later.

You'll hear stories about how to talk to someone. "Call between 2 and 3 -- that's when Michael Carlson told me he answers the phone." "Call around noon, when they'll likely clear out the voicemail box." "Try showing up in the afternoon."

Nothing worked. But I did get a call.

I missed that call while I was on a business trip. The message I left detailed my name, phone number, the number of people in the party and the date we'd prefer, along w/ the note that we were totally flexible. The message they left weeks later came from what sounded like either a boy who was 12 or a man who was stoned (maybe both?) and it went like this:

"Hi, this is Schwa returning your call. If there's anything we can do for you, please give us a call back."

What the fuck.

It's maddening, of course. I left another message and eventually stopped trying. Then I came down with the flu and pneumonia and forgot about it entirely.

Lo and behold, Michael Carlson himself called today to tell me -- surprise! -- I was on a wait list for tonight (really?) and could come any time I wanted. Tonight. "Oh  my God!" I said. "We'll be in!" Then I remembered our long-standing Frontera reservations, and the fact I'm still not up for alcohol, and that we'd have to check with Patrick. A lot of ifs. But the pressure! He talked at high speed and was very nice, but he wanted a decision, and he wanted one now.

I found out he was currently eating at Frontera as he returned me call. He promised Schwa would be amazing. I told him I already knew that.

Thankfully it hit me to slow the fuck down and ask questions. Turns out there were two weeknight reservations in March and I ended up getting one on St. Patrick's Day.

We hung up. Then I used my inhaler.

This is way too stressful of an experience. Their system is horrible!Yet they know they can do it because they're that good, and people will call, and they will phone-stalk the place. We liken it to the best dining experience. Ever.

Hopefully the stress is till worth it.

***
Yup, we've got reservations at Frontera Grill tonight -- my first time, Brian's second or third -- for our Tuesday Night.

It feels good to be getting back to normal life, even if it is still in slow motion.

3 Years of a Very Foodie Valentine's Day

It's Valentine's Day, and although I have pneumonia, I'm thrilled to say I can eat. Not the same quantity, of course, but my taste buds are in tact again, which means I can enjoy today's lineup. For brunch: Grecian strained yogurt; Whole Foods-made granola that I can already tell has a hint of vanilla; and blueberries, raspberries and blackberries. Dinner will be our traditional Valentine's Day dinner, takeout Indian. And it's not takeout b/c of my condition, which leaves me enough energy to, say, type this blog post before taking a nap.

For all three Valentine's Brian and I have been together, we've ordered in an assortment of Indian dishes and camped out. By default, we avoid restaurants on V-day because of how chaotic restaurants generally are, but the tradition started when we found ourselves confronted with an in-your-face-about-love holiday just five days into our relationship. Adjusting to our recent change from friends to significant others was a lot, and declaring it full out with all things red and expensive was scary -- and that was for me. He was the guy -- I can only imagine.

I remember I made us have a talk about it before the big day hit. As much as I didn't want to make it a big deal, I didn't want it to be awkward or get disappointed -- ignoring it would be a bummer after 26 years single.

And so we decided on the takeout and makeout strategy. He brought me a red rose, and I bought him the cookbook Booty Food, which we had blushed over earlier in the week while walking around Barnes & Noble together. (I still like to make him blush.) We debated on cuisines and ordered Indian, and the food was good enough.

So I guess this isn't much of a story about foodie food as it is about the foodies who eat it.

It was the perfect. A good meal, a good boyfriend ... what more could a girl ask for?

***

I just wrote about love and Valentine's Day. Like I said, I spent it single 26 years, even if I did have the occasional love interest (Paul, 7th Grade, delivered a carnation candy gram to my lunch table). I didn't always love the day -- who likes being reminded of what you don't have? -- but never hated it. The way I saw it, I had a lot of good friends who made the day fun. Even as an adult I sent V-day cards to my best friend and still send them to my godmother and parents. (If Lorraine were still with us, she'd get one, too.)

Here's wishing you a day full of love -- friend, lover, family and all.

What You Need to Do in Vegas

If you followed me on Facebook, you may or may not have caught a few status updates complaining about feeling exhausted from Las Vegas -- beginning halfway through the trip and ending two days after I got home. I was there for work for the International Builders' Show, which is the most important week of the year for our group of magazines because the amount of people, products and story ideas we have access to. That means days begin at 8 a.m. and work committments wrap up around 10 or 11 p.m. Throw in a couple celebratory drinks -- if I can last that long -- and I end up running on five or six hours of sleep. Good times!

But oh, there were good times! Here're actionable items for you for your next trip:

1) Stay at Encore if you can. Scan for deals, try to negotiate a price, do what you can to experience these rooms: creams and beige fabrics with a balanced amount of nearly black wood made you feel as if you were held in a lap of luxury. Flat screens, a bed I wanted to buy, a view that's elongated by mirrors in the sitting are and a doorbell remind you why Steve Wynn makes the money he does. Just don't examine the "Adult Pleasure Kit" box for longer than 60 seconds if you're curious -- you'll be automatically charged. The restaurants are good (enjoy the truffly oil at Society), and stores like Swim and Taste of Wynn make it too easy to drop a paycheck. (I rationed myself but came away with some good, uh, investments). 

2) Eat at Sage. If you read this blog, you know I'm a fan of Shawn McClaine's restaurants in Chicago. Sage -- which he moved his family to Vegas for -- is more of the same good stuff from him. He carried several of the crowd pleasers (albeit updated versions) over from his restaurants here in Chicago (the octopus from Custom House, the barrumundi and hot chocolate chaser from Spring), and the menu is distinctly him -- no surprises, which makes sense, given it's at Aria. Aris is gross. It's cold, dark and steel-like, and even if that's your thing, I don't see how anyone can deny it's  so incredibly generic in color and design that it won't look outdated next month. Seeing Shawn's work and style thrown into this abomination of generic decor is just weird, consideration the cleaner pallette he generally follows (even Custom House, a hotel restaurant, is better) but the food's wonderful. Order the Tin Rose cocktail (or something like that).

3) Drink at Peppermill. Ah, Peppermill. Everyone loves it! You know what a casino bar is like, you know what a club is like, but do you know what a kitschy Vegas lounge with fruity drinks and a fire pit is like? OK, there are pry a few of 'em out thattaway, but there's only one Peppermill. My friend Cynthia found this place the first time we did Vegas, and I dragged my coworkers there, who all agreed it was one of the highlights of the week. I may or may not have been really drunk already by the time this dreamy-eyed photo was taken. Note the pink plush couches, faux greenery and mirrors in the background. It's not loud, and the couple times I've been there, never crowded. Seriously, folks. Do yourself a favor and have the experience.

4) Do not get in any cabs that approach you unsolicited. I needed a cab and was amazed that this one happened to pull up at the right moment. He was taking a gamble, hoping I was a "party girl," which he asked me about several times. No cab number, company name or badge inside the cab either. Thankfully I made it to the hotel, and before I could turn around to get details off the side of the car, he was speeding off.

Those are the highlights. If you go or have been to any of these places, let me know what you think.

Coming Next: Vegas Update

I'm exhausted -- but that's because it's been a non-stop work-week, including lots of great food-related experiences as well. In my next update:

• My thoughts on Sage at Aria (Sage= winner, Aria = meh)
• The Peppermill! A tacky, kitchsy lounge with pink couches, a fire pit and fruity drinks that got me voted "coolest coworker ever" :)
• Society Cafe at Encore, where a chunk of the items have truffle oil (should be called Heaven at Encore)

Stay tuned!

Food Update! Jam breakfast place, Molly's Cupcakes, and more

Here are a few of the photos that were publishable in terms of quality -- my camera phone only captures well in certain lighting:

The scone of the day at Jam in Ukrainian Village: garlic paprika with whipped butter that was good enough to eat by the spoonful and raspberry jam. Really tasty. I'd been dying to try Jam; it's owned by a bunch of sous chefs at my favorite restaurants in Chicago, and everyone knows it. Consequently, by the time I roll in for brunch on Sunday there's a 1.5 hour wait, no place to really sit and, at least on the first try, they don't even let you put the name of the list unless all people are standing in front of the host. Third time's a charm though -- and showing up at 9:45 was JUST in time to beat the line.

This is Jam's Malted Custard French Toast, which features macerated quince, lime leaf cream and pink peppercorns. The entire dish is lovely -- until you bite into the pink pepercorn. That makes the dish have moxy. And it's great.

Oh, sweet egg sandwich. Jam's features pork cheeks, ricotta and persimmon ketchup. I didn't need the layers of French bolla, but it didn't matter. It's the perfect savory breakfast dish without having a lot of salt, which I like.

Switching gears:

I must recommend Molly's Cupcakes, even if the owner -- my ad class instructor -- ripped my work to shreds and may or may not have asked me, "What will that get you?" after I tossed out a solution to a problem during a brainstorm. Not that I'm bitter or anything (OK, maybe a little). But after a visit with my cupcake-obsessed (in a good way!) friend Cynthia last night, I've softened up: he's got a helluva business.

The country is dotted with cupcake bakeries, many that try to knock your socks off with creations that pair bacon with pears and strawberries with balsamic vinegar. Some of these cupcakes are really good. Others are OK, or tiring; sometimes you just wanna good, no frills dessert. What's great about John's cupcakes are that they play on comforts we all love -- think Boston cream pie or chocolate chip cookie dough -- and work them via filling and toppings into a lovely, cakey delight. The restaurant's concept is a throwback to his elementary school teacher who used to bake cupcakes for birthdays, so it's a playful schoolyard approach -- swings, for example, hang at a bar for seats. Only this schoolyard stays open til midnight, and John was there working himself  even then. Impressive.

Switching gears again:

When my friend Saul visited earlier this month, we ended up at Millenium Park around lunch time, and I immediately thought of Park Grill for burgers. For years I've been reading write ups in the many "Best Burger" issues in Chicago -- seems like everyone's got on -- yet never made my way in. Well folks, it's worth the hype. Pictured on the left is 1/2 of a regular ol' burger and the other half is the angus peppercorn crusted burger, which has gorgonzola, balsamic onions and mustard (although I swear there was bacon, too, but the online menu says otherwise). Guess which one was the best? The regular one, but they were both great. The regular one -- not greasy like its fancy, schmancy rival -- is one of the best burgers I've ever had. I'd go back. Just for the burger.

Vegas Restaurants

I'm due to be in Vegas next week for work, and what that usually means are 17 hour days occaisonally peppered with a great dinner with coworker friends. One in particular, Jay, I see outside of work all the time, and he appreciates a good restaurant. But he's not going this year. Considering I explain pasta with vodka sauce to people at work, I can't expect a hidden foodie to come out of the closet for a pricey meal on the town.

I have a night or two free for dinner so far and am debating meeting up with coworkers for good, fun times, or one night breaking off on my on to do my own foodie thing. Dining alone isn't a problem, but it's not ideal for me. If I'm going to drop a wad of money on a dinner -- at best, I can use my entire $50 food stipend per day on the whole meal -- I'd prefer to share it with someone. But oh well.

Right now I have reservations lined up at Thomas Keller's Bouchon at The Venetian and Shawn McClain's Sage at the new Aria at CityCentre. I just have to figue out which one I'll go to on which night. As tempting as Keller's Bouchon is, my experience is that the Vegas equivalent of notable chef's restaurants are never as good as the original. Todd English's Olives, for example, had humongous portions that were over-salted. My friend thought Craftsteak was OK. And Bouchon isn't getting that great of reviews -- they run the gamut, which says a lot.

Sage though seems promising, if only b/c McClain's new there and I know has had a heavier hand in the restaurant than others might; heck, he left Chicago's Custom House to take this job, so it better be good.

I'll keep you posted.

Another bullet-list roundup: First week of January

So, blog, it's been a while. Since I wrote last, a few things have happened: 

• I battled my sinus infection and recovered just in time to show my friend Saul from Australia around Chicago. His culinary tour -- he's a foodie, so it was my dream tour guide responsiblities -- including Gino's East pizza, Mixteco Grill, Park Grill for hamurgers, Feast for brunch and, rounding out one of the best night's I've had a in a long time, Blackbird for dinner followed by Violet Hour for cocktails, if only b/c we sorta had a hookup (10 min. wait rather than 2 hours, which we just don't do). Every place we visited was a home run. Clearly there are a lot of topics I can write about here, and maybe I will at some point. I don't feel like detailing the food though at the moment, except to say that Blackbird continues to be an all-around amazing dinner and Violet Hour is just too cool. 
• I loved catching up with my Aussie friend. Brian did, too. Saul's a sociologist and, like me, very interested and fascinated in the normal stuff about a culture, so we spent a day visiting very American things like Jewel food stores, Dunkin Donuts and Target. Yes, I'll definitely have to write about that experience, particularly my trying to shield him from seeing an Oscar-Myer cooked bacon product and answering his puzzled question, "Sara, what are pork chitlins?" Ah, good times.
  
• I'm too lazy to plug in links for this post at the moment. Maybe I'll come back to that.
  
• I stopped doing my flip turns in the pool. They just aren't as smooth and fast as the pseudo-turns I have perfected, and I'm not willing to give that up. 
• My calves and core have really strengthened, and I credit that to my gym: there are a lot more hard core people that I can watch and copy  moves from, and the spin classes are more challenging. I've been more sore, but it's a good sore. 
• I can barely get my heart rate up while I'm swimming these days. I mean, it'll elevate, for sure, but nowhere near what it used to be. Is it because of the longer pool distance making it more difficult for me to hold a sprint? Just being too comfortable at a slower-than-normal pace? I noticed I can't really sprint anymore -- it's like my muscles just don't work that way. Maybe it's because when I do sprint, my arms tense up, and my body hates it. I don't know. I have to work it out. 
• I've had a really good streak at work lately.
• I'm on the fourth book of Twilight, "Breaking Dawn." I almost broke up with "Eclipse" in the last book, when Edward basically tries to hold Bella hostage to protect her. Then he apologize, and I came back. It's like an abusive relationship, I wrote on my Facebook status update, but at least I know the difference between a book and reality -- and do not mirror Bella's behavior. 
• I would totally hook up with Edward. I mean, ya know, if he were in real life and I didn't have Brian. :) 
  
• Have read the thousands of pages in the Twilight series, it's becoming clearer to me why I feel so obsessed with it. Some of it I cannot write here. Some of it is as simple as wanting to indulge in a passionate story about two intoxicating characters (or rather, an intoxicating character and his insecure love).
• Barring random circumstances, I will be in Vegas a week from tomorrow for work. I need to find some dining buddies; my coworker friends who I like to catch up with won't be going. Not that I don't like my coworkers that are going, but I see them all the time and like to use this annual trip as a time to try some good restaurants and see coworkers I don't worth with as closely.
  

I promise to get back into topical blogs rather than this mish mash I'm trying to pass off, guiltily typing away so I don't have a month's worth of news to write in one post.

The Week in Bullet Points

I know I've been incommunicado; it's been a busy week. I could write a lot but will update using bullet points:

• Five hours in delays and 1 canceled flight later I'm back from Christmas in Memphis, where Santa still found me; I was welcomed with warm, open arms; and the topic of conversation among Brian's family members rotated between babies and football (it is the South). 
• We ate a lot of cheese. No vegetables or fruit -- just meat 'n' cheese grits, cheese dip, cheesey eggs and more. My healthy diet is now back on track.
  
• I finished reading both "Twilight" and "New Moon" and am going straight after work tomorrow to see "New Moon" in the theater. I am totally obsessed but feel better about reading the books because, as my friend Laura reminded me last night, the subject matter is for adults.
  
• I have a sinus infection. 
• I've heard from my Aussie friends this week and have one visiting this weekend, so I'm thrilled. He's a foodie, so we're doing Gino's East pizza on Friday, Blackbird on Saturday and Mixteco Grill on Sunday.
  
• I am officially committed to an international/Olympic distance triathlon -- registered this week. 
• I'm really looking forward to New Year's. Brian's cooking dinner for a small group of friends, and that's it. Love it. 

Here's wishing you a very happy holidays and happy new year. Let's make 2010 a good one, shall we?

Lula, You're Wonderful, But Cafe You Are Not

Brian and I ventured to Lula Cafe yesterday -- finally! -- for Tuesday Night and were reminded that you can go to a restaurant and have every course and every dish taste great; sit in a spot-on, warm atmosphere with stellar service; and still be surprised with unique twists on familiar and unexpected ingredients alike. It lived up to the hype -- and there has been a lot of it (deservedly it turns out). But that's not what I want to write about.

Lula calls itself a cafe.

To Lula and all the other restaurants that tack on "cafe" to their name, I say: wtf.

A cafe is a little restaurant that serves coffee and maybe sandwiches and other light things. Merriam-Webster agrees! There are nice little tables to sit at and people watch, and you can generally hang out all day if you want. Only have a few bucks? Fear not, you can still get a drink and snack. I think of Paris, romance, traveling, puppies with their owners and all other cafe-type things that make them a great urban escape.

But there's a crop of restaurants posing as cafes, and they're ticking me off. Magnolia Cafe, Lula Cafe, Cafe 36 -- yeah, I'm talkin' to you. You serve pork dishes! You braise meats! And I have to drop a good $60 on a meal for two -- because it's dinner  you serve, not a sandwich and soup with a side of wrought-iron furniture. If I had a dog, there would be no place to tie it up, which is standard cafe service protocol. Again, wtf.

Lula, you wonderful place, you: sadly you're guilty of this misnomer. Your short-rib stuffed rabbit was phenomenal but requires a full kitchen for preparation. Your sketchy locale (OK, Logan Square is *slowly* gentrifying, but it ain't there yet) does not allow for the relaxing people-watching I expect to at any cafe, and you open for dinner. Will you allow me to hang out all day at one of your fancy tables buying only a coffee and sandwich? I think not.

I wish these restaurants would just call themselves what they are and drop the "cafe." Or at least follow Cafe Too's example, which is closer. Stop messing with my expectations, even if you hit home runs on all other counts.

***
Why We Can't Wait to Go Back to Lula:
-- the fact our waiter was Mexican and our water boy was white (sorry, but how often do you see that?)
-- a great beet salad with myer (sp?) lemons and homemade ricotta
-- crispy sweetbreads with figs
-- a homemade pasta and pork dish (with more figs!) that oozes comfort
-- a great meritage for $9 a glass
-- kick-ass short-rib-stuffed quail with winter vegetables and pumpkin puree
-- and the carrot cake. Sure, carrot cake is carrot cake. But do other versions have Lula's frosting recipe? Nope. It's perfectly moist and carroty goodness.

San Soo Gab San Korean Barbecue: Great, Experience; Just Avoid 'The Thing'

I've never done official Korean barbecue, which could have been a bad thing if I were intimidated by dozens of dishes filled with totally unfamiliar foods and tastes, or if I panicked at the sight of a mini barbecue pit sitting inches away from my plate. But if you go to San Soo Gab San in Lincoln Square, everything happens so quickly -- busy Korean women with barely any English plop about two dozen plates on your table within minutes of ordering, and the fire pit is shoved in the center of the table before your eyes can digest the contents of those bowls -- there's no time to panic. You just dive in and taste.

We ordered the Korean marinated pork and beef brisket to grill; all those dishes are automatic for the table. Meats are fatty and tasty as long as you don't think too hard about the women standing near the kitchen cutting up the meat strips with scissors and not wearing hair nets. I liked the pork rib the best. 

This is a great place if you try new things. Just be prepared. If trying a new type of fish is your idea of living dangerously, this is not the place for you. You'll leave the restaurant not knowing much of what you ate. And some of it will taste bad -- not because it's not prepared properly, but because it will be assaultingly different. There's an odd potato salad sample that creeps in, but you'll find some flat-out wierd shit, including this thing:

We don't know what it is, but it's texture is akin to biting in to a rubber eraser with a density closer to Silly Putty. I don't know what the brown sauce is either, but it took everything in my power to not spit it out at the table -- perhaps one of the most difficult gulps of my life. I eat almost anything, but this crossed the line.

That said, it's a dynamic experience: the restaurant is casual and busy, and cooking your own food offers a charm. It's great for groups, even though you're squished into a table whether there's two or six of you.

I didn't start this blog by describing my disgusting experience because I didn't want it to set the tone for the whole restaurant. This is a great place. Just go easy on the rubber eraser plant thing.

My First Trip to Disney

My name is Sara. I'm 29 years old. And I've finally been to Disneyland. (!)

I've been incommunicado the past week mainly because I was traveling four days for business. Unfortunately for me, I had to leave Chicago for warm, sunny Anaheim, where I observed an award judging for work. I left knowing I'd be in a conference room from 7:30 a.m. to 6:30 p.m. at best, with evening activities to boot. I didn't plan on going to the park (and didn't see how I could do it with 3 hours of free time), even though I'd never been, and even though it was walking distance away. I credit my ambivalence with not being a "Disney kid," and therefore not being a Disney adult. My favorite Disney movies were Lady and the Tramp and The Little Mermaid, and I did fancy Snow White and Cinderella. But Bambi scared me, I thought Beauty and the Beast was lame, Fantasia -- my aunt's favorite -- put me to sleep, and I as I grew up, I just didn't follow all things Disney. My parents didn't pump me with Disney memorabilia either. 

So when my plane touched down and I found myself in Anaheim, I was more interested in finding a few moments to walk outside in the sun (didn't happen) than score a few hours in a park that would cost a shitload of money ($72).

But you can't stay at Disneyland -- we were at the outdated but still phenomenally run Paradise Pier -- and not want to load up on Mickey, Minnie and whomever those other animal characters are ("I saw Lylo -- or is it pronounced LeeeLo??"). The toiletries have Mickey Mouse ears on them, and and the room service menu featured the iconic Mickey-Mouse-shaped Waffle. I don't order room service, and I don't order waffles. But by golly, I put Mickey-Mouse-waffles on my to-do list.

That was Day 1. Day 2 I couldn't resist and bought a Twilight Pass for business travelers with a few hours to spare and took off solo. 

I loved Disneyland. You can see it in my face here, on Pirates of the Caribbean Ride:

My 3.5 hours in the park -- at night no less -- were magical. Maybe they were more magical at night -- I'm told you can see how outdated and run-down looking the park looks during the day, and I probably would have nit-picked things. But at night, all you can see are twinkly lights, and all you can hear is old-fashioned music that takes you back to being a kid ("It's a small world" and the like). I think I also liked it because I went mid-week, in the fall, and in the evening, so fewer families were around to get annoying.

I can't say that it was all I thought it would be, because I never really wanted to go. Yet within moments of crossing the front gate, I was struck with a pang of sadness when I realized all I'd missed out on as a kid. There was a year or two when I really wanted to go to Disneyland or Disneyworld, around fourth grade. I had asked about it previously because my friends talked about it, and I remember my mom talking about how expensive it was -- too expensive for us. After all, we took road trips to Michigan and used a friend's house for vacation.

I didn't argue, and didn't feel bad about it. But I did bring it up in fourth grade after my parents received a settlement from a car accident we were in. I remember they got about $3,000, which I realized was nearly enough to pay for a trip for our family to go on the Big Red Boat -- I figured it was better than my mom's having to walk around a theme park, which was another reason we couldn't go (she's disabled). I did all the research and presented my case to my parents, but I was rejected. I can't remember what we did with the money, but everything seemed to go toward bills. I forgot about it and moved on to wanting something else, like New Kids on the Block concert tickets (didn't go either).

So this pang of sadness that hit me: it made me tear up. I didn't feel sorry for myself, I just regretted missing out as a kid. Every kid was soo happy. And the few that started to have a meltdown were easily distracted by the next cool thing that was around the corner.

Of course, it's easy to bribe a kid to be quiet when all you have to do is reach for the magic wand they want to buy or buy some Mickey Mouse ears to keep 'em quiet. I went to Disney because I had the time and the finances -- I even got a discount to boot. I can see why my parents didn't take me; the place sucks you dry. Nothing's cheap. And who goes to Disney and doesn't get a souvenier? I came away with Christmas ornaments and Pirate scopes for Brian's nephews. I can only imagine how much parents have to buy.

I also came away with a greater appreciation for Walt Disney. His parks run seamlessly, and even staying at Paradise Pier I had the staff at my hands. I couldn't get my Mickey Waffle because I had to leave before room service began. But I've been told that that particular hotel even would make it happen. Also impressive: there were healthy food options at every food kiosk I saw -- even vendors devoted to selling fruits and other healthy snacks. It's a small detail that I imagine goes far with concerned parents.

So my trip to Disney really was special. In my 3.5 hours I rode Indiana Jones' adventure, Space Mountain (my favorite), the Alice in Wonderland ride, Haunted Mansion, Pirates of the Caribbean and some London streetcar thing. The hot dog and hamburger I had (can you tell I bypassed the healthy food?) were actually really good. I got a glimpse of Mickey during the Fantasia or Fantasma or whatever it's called show, too, and saw the fireworks. Good times.

I don't hate my parents for not taking me, but I was happy to be able to go. Now I just have to get back.

***
All the food I had -- at the hotel for the business meeting, in the theme parks, and at a formal dinner -- was good. Damn, Disney. You don't disappoint.

In a related note, we had dinner at the Napa Rose restaurant, which I recommend if you're looking for fine dining in Anaheim. I had scallops in a lobsert bisque for an appetizer and pheasant with fall lentils and shmears (don't remember what was in it -- too busy talking to digest the menu!) for my main.The execution was spot on, and the staff really attentive. Someone did order the venison, which they were out of. And how do they tell you this? "The Mouse has spoken, and we're unfortunately out of the venison." I'll have to use that line sometime.

Food We Eat at Home

Here's a recap of some recent favorites we've made from scratch (well, except for the pasta):

BRUSSELS SPROUTS!

I took a very simple recipe for Golden-Crusted Brussels Sprouts from the 101 Cookbooks blog that calls for the sprouts, olive oil and salt and pepper. I used thyme- and rosemary-infused olive oil we keep on hand for extra flavor. Perfection. What I love about this recipe is that it's very simple, and the directions tell you exactly how to deal with brussels sprouts, i.e. don't boil them.

Pasta with Italian-style turkey sausage (sweet), spinach, garlic, onion and olive oil

Notice a trend with us? It's amazing how different some of the same basic ingredients can taste with one alteration -- in this case, the turkey sausage. This dish is soooo simple and tasty, I'm sure we'll make it again. I was trying to duplicate a dish we had at Volare, but we didn't do it: I think at Volare they boil the sausage or cook it in a simple butter, because it didn't have an oily or sauteed feel to it, which I liked. We do a lot of that, and it's time to mix it up. I want to try again.

Did I write about this one already?

Breakfast at Dinner: boiled red new potatoes cut up and sauteed with peppers, onions and tomatoes with cumin. Really good.

Tuesday Night Review ... Time for A Running Coach?

Note: As I'm writing this, I'm eating Zataraine's jambalaya mix. Do I like it? Eh, not so much. The red beans and rice package is good though ...

Here's an update: for Tuesday (Wednesday) night, Brian and I went to a long-standing "English" pub, The Grafton, not to be confused with an Irish pub (no gaelic, less green, etc.). I give it 2 of 5 Zs.

Ouch! I know, I know. Why the low rating? The food really wasn't that good. My burger was blah, and the cole slaw proved that it is possible to have a dish that uses mayonaise and tastes just as bland as ... cold, chopped cabbage. Brian's cajun chicken sandwich seemed to comprise schnitzel-esque chicken (pounded meat). My mashed potatoes were good, but it's pretty hard to screw up mashed potatoes.

Here's where The Grafton wins: The atmosphere. The staff. Both are charming. If I were judging it by a pint and a good time, it'd be 4 of 5 Zs. But if you go there hungry, you might be taking your chances (after all, my experience was one night, right?).

Ideas for next Tuesday (Wednesday): The Fantastic Crepe (so new I couldn't find a Web site) or a Korean place.  Stay tuned.

***

So this running thing, yeah ... I've gotta get into a rhythm, and I'm scared. I'm scared of making my knees worse, and I'm scared of being in pain from the more frequent runs and then having my other workouts suffer. But I don't want to say "I can't," and I do want to continue to build strength and push myself.

That's why Brian is pushing for me to see Bill Leach, a well-known running coach (at least on the Northside) in Chicago who analyzes gait  along with training runners. I'm interested in finding out if how I run is the correct way. Believe it or not, you really can have a messed up stride or technique, and that can aggravate current problems or trigger new ones. Brian, for example, has completed several 1/2 Ironmans and a ton of Olympic distance triathlons to find, after nine months off a lot of pain once he resumed his workouts, that all these years he's been compensating for poor running technique and thus has more knee and leg pain than he should.

I'm also considering returning to PT, but I want to see "Coach Leach" first. I've actually watched him work with people while I took PT at Accelarated in Lincoln Park. He was focused and definitely coach-like. But that's what I need.

Yeah, I'm in pain. It's not a lot and definitelly something I can deal with, but I don't want it to escalate and genuinely want to understand how my body performs -- and what I can do to help it. Some people are natural athletes and can crank out ultramarathons (please excuse the Wikipedia reference there) without woes. I am not one of those people. But that doesn't mean I'll sit on the sidelines.

Tac Quick: 4 of 5 Zs

Here are two amazing sides from Tac Quick, a local Thai restaurant: fermented pork sausage and papaya salad. I've been there three times and love it. It truly is authentic Thai -- we always eat off the "traditional Thai menu," which you have to ask for -- which is great to try if you haven't. The preparations and ingredients are different than the typical American Thai restaurants, and it reminds me of the Thai food I had in Sydney, which is incredibly close to that of Thailand, I'm told, b/c of the number of Thai immigrants and proximitity to the motherland.

Dishes I'd recommend from Tac Quick: the Thai beef jerky; Tom Kha soup; pad thai with shrimp in an omelet; green curry with chicken, egglplant and egg; and the pork sausage. I'm sure I'd recommend more if I had samples the entire menu.

Bonus: clean atmosphere, incredibly friendly staff and cheap! Lots of bang for you buck.

Food of Late! (Restaurant Edition)

Sushi at Green Tea, Lincoln Park. Some of the freshest, best-prepared and reasonably priced sushi in town (4.5 out of 5 Zs)

I never knew about Vaccaro's Italian Pastries while I went to the University of Maryland, but apparently they're famous. After a visit, I could see why. Mounds of custard, eclairs, cakes and more beam from the refrigerated cases. Thanks to my friend Mindy, I experienced the rum cake (above) -- layers of yellow cake soaked in rum with vanilla and chocolate custart -- and cream puff.

Black bean frittata (I hate that word) at Great Sage in Maryland. Great Sage is the first stylish, clean vegetarian and vegan place I've been to whose atmosphere was more in line with mainstream people who aren't hippies, although clearly the people there and zen vibe came through. No fruit flies buzzing around. Very clean.

Oh, heavenly Chik-Fil-A chicken 'n' biscuit, how I wish thee were in Chicago (locations nationwide. Except within 35 miles of Chicago, of course).

Amish Chicken with herbs (can't remember details. sorry) at Feast in Wicker Park. I think Feast is a tasty, reliable restaurant. I'm never wowed there, but it's thoughtful, the menu has variety, and people always like it. Great for parents or people with varied tastes.