September 28

Kalbi After Dark

Why is it when people think of late-night eating (or anything involving soaking up alcohol) they immediately gravitate to taquerias and sliders?  Quite a few bars and restaurants are now offering late-night nibbles, and over the weekend, I was faced with the prospect of finding a good option to meet a friend from out-of-town.  I knew he was an experienced Korean BBQ aficionado, but wasn't sure if he wanted to venture up North after a long day in the sun.  My initial thought was to check out San Soo Gap San, a reliable, 24-hour Korean grillfest located just North of Foster on Western Ave.  I love the abundant vegetarian side dishes, called panchan, which arrive with my meal (I think last time we tried more than a dozen), and the smell of grilled beef is always intoxicating.  Just walking into the place is exciting: while many people are sitting down, hovered over charcoal grills, the sight of smoke billowing up to the large overhead hoods while hearing people argue over giant Korean beers is always more fortifying late at night with a group of friends.  Problem is, ever since they were "Check, Please"d, it's been rather difficult to score a table there.  I decided instead to go to my old reliable, Chicago Kalbi, on West Lawrence Avenue, which, ironically enough, is actually owned by a sweet Japanese couple. 

The building itself is unremarkable - like many of its bretheren along this gritty stretch of Lawrence.  The Admiral Theater is down the block (bring lots of $1 bills, fellas) and a popular hookah lounge sits across the street in a tiny strip mall.  But once you walk inside, you're in for a treat.  Chiyo, the always-pleasant, eager-to-please owner, greets you and whisks you to either a table up front or one of the private rooms near the back.  The other image upon entry is that of a few giant posters featuring Japanese baseball stars and other Asian athletes, all of whom seem to make Chicago Kalbi a must-visit anytime they play at Wrigley or The Cell.  The kalbi (marinated short ribs) comes one of two ways: Korean-style, with the bone still attached, or Japanese (bone removed).  This is where you want to stick with the Korean approach, as the bone adds great flavor and some tasty gnawing after you're done grilling.  The marinade itself is a secret combination, but as far as I can tell, contains soy, sesame and garlic, plus some rice vinegar and perhaps a bit of sugar.  The beef is sliced paper-thin, and is whisked out to the table as soon as they drop a giant pot of flaming charcoals into the center well in the middle of your table.  Chiyo, or one of the servers, will gladly help you grill, but no need, this is really the fun part of a communal meal, Korean-style.  Just take the damn tongs and do it yourself.  The kalbi is smokey and charred, and the intense beefyness is amplified when you dab a bit of soybean paste onto your little slice, then wrap it up in a nice, big leaf of romaine lettuce.

So you're thinking, "what do the Japanese know about Korean BBQ?"  Here's where the owners' own culture and connections come in handy:  the menu always lists a few buttery-rich Wagyu or even imported Kobe beef as a grilling supplement.  The slices come out highly-marbled with that luscious fat, and they're no more than an ounce or two each.  I can never understand why someone would want to eat an eight, or even a 12-ounce piece of this fatty breed, since you need to eat it fairly quickly after it is cooked; if you wait, and let the fat congeal, the whole point of the pleasure has been lost and all you'll end up doing is chewing the fat.  With these small pieces, the ratio is in balance, and you can consume it in one or two bites.  All it takes is a few seconds per side on the blazing hot grill, and you immediately pop the tender slabs into your mouth; you could give them a quick dip in the provided sesame-soy sauce, but we found them even more addictive with just a whisper of salt sprinkled onto one side.  Eating the regular kalbi and the Kobe side-by-side, I couldn't help but think how the owner of a Honda would feel after test-driving a Porsche: you know they're both high-quality vehicles, but when it comes down to it, there's really no comparison.   You get what you pay for.

The panchan here is very respectable, and the two kimchis we tried were both knockouts - chili-laced chunks of pickled daikon radish, as well as a fiery/pickled napa cabbage.  Spinach, potato salad, bean sprouts and pickled cucumbers were some of the other highlights.  We also tried some dynamite pork belly that had been slow-roasted until it was fork-tender, dabbed with a smidge of hot mustard, and their tongue (stay with me) tasted even better than advertised: again, paper-thin sheets of the organ are quickly grilled and dunked into fresh lemon juice, which gives it a bright, citrusy pop.  We polished off a few large OB beers and Chiyo sent us out a glass of Korean soju, a clear spirit distilled from sweet potatoes.  It had none of the harshness found in so many of those over-hyped vodkas, and like most everything at Chicago Kalbi, it arrived with a smile and tasted like nothing else in town.

September 13

In Fidel-ity

Chicago is home to all kinds of wonderful sandwiches.  The mammoth subs at Bari in West Town, the juicy/sweet/hot/dipped beefs at Johnnie's in Elmwood Park and the crunchy French-inspired Vietnamese bahn mi at Bale Bakery in Uptown are a few of my faves. But it seems like a Cuban immigrant is muscling in on the sandwich front lately.  It's called a Cubano, and I've tried two decent versions lately.

First, a definition: in its proper form, the Cubano contains sliced roast pork that's been rubbed with garlic and mojo, a slice or two of deli ham, a few tart pickles and a slice or two of Swiss cheese.  The ingredients are held together by two slices of long, rectangular bread, usually of a sturdy Italian white variety that's been slathered with mayo and mustard.  The exterior of the bread has to be somewhat fortified, as it will eventually be pressed between the hot, flat surface of an electric panini press, melting the cheese the inside, and giving the outer edge a beautiful, toasty brown crunch.

Two new Cuban sandwich shops have opened in Chicago recently, and they couldn't be more different.  Downtown, in the South Loop, Cafecito is located in the same building as a youth hostel, so many of the customers tend to wander in from next door, seeking a cheap, filling meal.  Their Cubano contains the requisite ingredients, yet the pork lacked any kind of a garlicky jolt, although it did appear roasted on-site.  The bread was nicely toasted, however, which aided in the proper melting of the Swiss inside.  I typically order a cortado or Cuban coffee to go with my sandwich; it's just a strong shot of espresso with sugar, yet Cafecito's arrived almost lukewarm.  At $4.99 for a sandwich though, this is a worthy mid-afternoon snack.


In Hamlin Park, a desolate, restaurant desert if there ever was one in Chicago, 90 Miles Cuban Cafe just opened this week, and the owners have clearly spent a bit more time decorating the place, making you feel as if you'd stumbled into some 1950's era cafe outside of Havana.  The walls are lined with old newspaper clippings and photos, and a stack of Bustelo Coffee resides above the giant espresso machines, which churn out fantastic cups of Cuban coffee, by the way.  A small case of homemade pasteles, little baked triangles filled with guava and cheese, was extremely tempting.  It was the Cuban sandwich I had a harder time understanding.  The ratio of ham to pork is way out of whack here - something like two-to-one - and my sandwich hadn't spent nearly enough time in the press; the cheese inside wasn't even melted yet.  The owner told me their signature sandwich is the lechon, which consists of not only the roasted pork, but maduros (sweet, fried plantains), romaine lettuce and grilled onions.  While I loved the maduros and onions, the pork had been chopped into hard-to-chew hunks that kept falling out.  I'm hoping they get more feedback, and work on their sandwich pressing as well as pork slicing, because I'm sure the cops up the block on Belmont will become this cafe's best customers.  As for me, next time I'm craving a Cubano, I'll still be heading over to El Cubanito in West Logan Square for the real deal.

September 12

My Big Fat Polish Wedding

Yesterday's post about Vienna got me talking a little about our experience in Poland, which was highlighted by the wedding we attended in the countryside, about an hour-and-a-half North of Krakow.  I had mentioned how food, vodka and dancing were in constant rotation from 5 p.m. until 5 a.m.  Here are some of the highlights:

Jura (white borscht with pork)     Roasted Pork Shoulder             Creamed and Pickled Herring

Mind you, these were all served AFTER the wedding cake, well past midnight.  I found out the next morning that I missed one of my favorite dishes, bigos (a hunter's stew of sausage, cabbage and tomatoes) which hit the tables around 3 a.m. 

September 11

Rock Me Amadeus

We just returned from a 10-day trip to Central Europe, visiting Vienna, Krakow and the Polish countryside.  One of our dear friends was getting married near Zawierce, and since we had been to Krakow before, we wanted to see something else in that general vicinity.  Last time we were there, we took the train to Prague, but this time - since we were using all of our United miles - we opted to fly somewhere nearby that was a partner to United.  It turns out Air Austria was the ticket, and Vienna is only a 45 minute flight from Krakow.  The flight from Chicago is a very doable 7 hours, and we made sure to work with a few connections before the trip, so we would have an idea of where to eat.

Part of the trip would include meeting with the owners of Julius Meinl, a large coffee company based in Vienna, which at one point, had nearly 1,000 stores throughout Europe.  They've since sold their stores to a large company, but they still own and maintain two stores in Chicago, in Lake View and Lincoln Square.  Thomas Meinl Sr. and his son Thomas, were kind enough to suggest some places to try in Vienna.  The city is both historic and yet cosmopolitan; a mix of Old Europe, the Hapsburg Empire and all of that, plus the sleek, modern design of its Albertina Museum and upscale shopping along the Graben.  Coffee and pastries are to this city what hot dog stands are to Chicago: ubiquitous and at the same time ingrained in the culinary consciousness.

From the pastries at Cafe Landtmann to the mini savory open-faced sandwiches at Trzesniewski and Schwarzen Kameel, we could have eaten in Vienna for weeks.  At Schwarzen Kameel (the black camel), they've been serving these little sandwiches (pictured, right) for decades.  Toppings range from pumpkin puree and curried corn, to blood sausage topped with sauerkraut and my favorite:  horseradish and sliced pork.  I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the managers at the Chicago stores will somehow integrate these addictive little beauties into their menus.

The pastries all had a common theme too.  Hazelnut seemed to be everywhere, as did marzipan and chocolate.  They look at you like you're crazy if you don't order a coffee "mit schlag" (with cream) and while it was hot out during our trip - about 73 degrees everyday - they also love their gelato, which must come from the country's proximity to Italy.  One of the finest pastries came from a winemaker's wife, who somehow integrated apricots into the most luscious, soft, crumbly cake I'd ever had, which also had the slightest amount of powdered sugar across the top.  It was just heaven with a cup of strong coffee, and you can see them pictured below.

Savories tend to lean to the predictable: sausages (wurst) and pork, although we did see a few veggie-friendly options.  You just need to ask.  The flagship Julius Meinl store on the Graben was really more like a Harrod's, with its two-level grocery store, containing fresh bread, 300 or so cheeses, a vast fish counter and more coffee than you could ever imagine in one place; they also have a subterranean wine bar and an elegant restaurant on the second floor, which managed to serve the most delicate crayfish I've ever tasted.  

The Meinls also connected us with Michael Martin, winemaker of his family's Martinshof vineyards, where he grows and produces a bright, acidic and floral gruner veltliner.  We drove out to the country one afternoon, had an exquisite farmer's platter of meats and cheeses, (paired with his wine, of course) and then took a drive into the fields where he showed us his sloping vines.  Off of the vine, the grapes taste wonderful - not as bitter as some other wine grapes I've tried over the years.  All of his gruner is aged in stainless steel, and his only hurdle is getting the product into the U.S.  He says he's working on it, and let's hope he's successful in doing so.

We also visited Krakow, by the way, but the dumplings, potatoes, cabbage and pork all tasted the same after a few days.  The best food of the Polish leg was at our friend's wedding, which, by the way, lasted all night.  Usually, in America at least, when they serve the wedding cake (around 11 or 12), they have a dance or two and then people go home.  In Poland, that cake was followed by some dancing, then some vodka (every table had it's own bottle, which was replenished frequently) and then some white borscht, pork shoulder and kasha, herring in cream sauce, etc.  This alternating of food, dance, drink, repeat, lasted until 5 a.m., but I couldn't even make it past one a.m.  I was beat!  I'll post some cool photos of the food highlights from Poland in another post.

I went into Vienna somewhat lukewarm, and came out of our trip there just blown away. The people are friendly and the eating is grand.  You can go high-end or you can eat well for less than 10 dollars.  Even though the Euro is killing the dollar, we still managed to have some great meals.  I would highly recommend a trip to wine country, since it's not that far away, and even if you're jaded by all of the commercialism along the Graben, stop by the Meinl flagship; it's really something to see (and taste).

It's not Spain, and it's not Southern Italy, but this European destination is well worth a foodies' time.