Chicago: Thoughts from an aspiring foodie

by Brittaney Meyer

(In honor of "Top Chef: Season 4 Finale, I sent one of my food critics, Brittaney Meyer, to Chicago to review a few local hot spots. Ok, not really. She was going there anyway and it just happened to work out this way. But I am just practicing for one day when I Love Tongs, Inc. takes over the nation much like locusts...or Rachel Ray.)

My husband and I were fortunate enough to find ourselves in Chicago for a few days during the first week of April. I spent the majority of my time observing oral arguments in an Illinois State courthouse (we were there for a law school competition) but I did have a few spare moments to enjoy some amazing food. Heather has been kind enough to post my novice-foodie thoughts here for you all to enjoy.

Forget pizza — go for burgers
I know, I know, Chicago deep dish, blah, blah, blah. I did try some and it was fantastic, but nothing compares to the place where we ate lunch on Friday. Boston Blackie's was reviewed online as the number three spot for lunch in Chicago. Well, numbers one and two must have slept with someone pretty darn important to have out-ranked this place.

Boston Blackie's is located underneath South Michigan Avenue (yes, underneath) on Grand. Once you walk down to Grand you will likely assume that you should head left toward the “downtowny”-looking portion of the street. You would be incorrect. Blackie's is located on a nondescript end of the road in a building that, at first glance, looks like it has burned down — that is until you realize that it is actually just painted matte black on purpose. The inside, however, is quite pleasant. The host was a man in his 60s dressed in a plaid sportcoat and tie. The waiting area was standing-room only and the burgers were HUGE.

If you don’t like burgers, chicken or fish sandwiches, don’t go to Boston Blackie's as this is all they serve. But what the menu lacks in variety, it makes up for in quality. The burgers were fantastic: cooked to order (mine was actually rare, which is, well...rare), juicy and flavorful. Ryan didn’t put anything on his except for the burger, cheese and grilled onions it came with. Again, fantastic. The price? We ordered six burgers, two baskets of onion rings, two pitchers of beer and a soda for $83.00. That included the tip. I could say more but I don’t have to — next time Southwest is offering $59 flights, go for yourself and try it.

Popcorn for the connoisseur
I have been known to go to a movie that I am less than thrilled about because of the popcorn. I am a layered-butter, lots-of-salt girl myself. I will skip lunch so that I can eat more — that is how much I love this stuff.

Lucky for me, Chicago is home to Garrett Popcorn. They have a lot of different flavors, but their most popular is “the mix." The mix consists of half cheese corn and half caramel corn. We had to wait in line for 10 minutes and everyone I heard order ahead of me ordered at least one bag of the mix. Needless to say, I had to try it. I was not disappointed; it was phenomenal. I probably gained five pounds by being near the stuff but it was worth it. You can order online — stop reading and start typing.

Impress your bedfellow, or just someone staying the night at your house, with the juice I had at Yolk
Yolk is a breakfast place with some really great food. However, their juice took the cake. Although simple, their recipe was highly effective: a glass of orange juice with strawberries blended in. I think they used a blender and then dropped a few chopped strawberries in for good measure. I wanted to save it so bad I ended up having half a glass left at the end that I downed in 1.5 seconds of pure morning pleasure. For serious.

I guess the short story is: go to Chicago. Bring a good pair of walking shoes and your fat pants and prepare to be amazed.

"Top Chef" Season 4: Episodes 9 through 13

Let me begin with an explanation: the reason I failed to post any kind of review of the past five episodes is because if I had reviewed them at the time of airing, it would have taken everything in my power not to simply write a string of curses representing the frustration I feel because Lisa has somehow managed to sneak by Judges' Table over these past weeks.

Today's review is no exception to that, and in fact the only way I think I am managing to get through it in a polite and professional manner is the fact that before sitting down to the computer today, I had a lunch which consisted of four cosmopolitans and a Xanax. And quite literally during the ridiculously long pause while I waited to hear Padma say her famous line, I was rocking back and forth on the couch repeating, "Lisa, please pack your knives and go. Lisa, please pack your knives and go," hoping that maybe my chants would somehow enter the TV, deflect off of Tom Colicchio's bald head and straight into Padma's brain.

Since I don't have the time or the the energy, and because I am still recovering from having to say goodbye to Antonia, I have decided to review episodes nine through thirteen in Haiku form. Enjoy:

Episode 9:Wedding Wars
Speed challenge again
At stake, a bride's wedding day
Farewell to Nikki

Episode 10: Serve and Protect
The salmon rolls fail
Unpleasing to tongue and eyes
Like Padma's knife dance.

Episode 11: Restaurant Wars
Team Richard: success
Scary judge, Mr. Bourdain
Butterscotch scallops???

Episode 12: High Steaks
You get it? "High Steaks?"
Like a play on the word "stakes"
So clever, Top Chef

Episode 13: Finale PT 1
Upset at judges
Mad mad mad mad mad mad mad
Lisa can suck it

Table For One

I pretty much cook for one purpose: to share it with others. Of course the added bonus is that food is freaking awesome, but really it's mostly so I can share share that goodness with my friends. Even when it's just Grant, who I cook for almost every night, I still get so much satisfaction knowing that my meal made him happy.

This has made me realize that although cooking is my favorite thing to do when I come home each day, I really despise cooking for just myself. First, when it is Grant and me, I can totally get myself out of the clean-up. I mean, I cooked right? That doesn't work when you are alone. Second, I like to see the happy and satisfied faces sitting around my table while they enjoy my food. When it is just me, there is no one to look at but myself. I mean, I have tried eating in front of the mirror and having a dialogue with myself but it inevitably goes something like this:

Real me: Do you like it?
Mirror me: Oh yeah. This is so good. Is there fresh mint in this?
Real me: Yeah there is. I really thought it would complement the lamb. I'm glad you like them.
Mirror me: Boy, do I ever.
Real me: Thanks.
Mirror me: Sure thing. Hey, you should really do something with our hair. Also that shirt you're wearing makes us look like you ate about 40 of those lamb meatballs.
Real me: Huh?
Mirror me: I'm just saying.

When I'm by myself I'm usually just a slave to whatever's in the pantry and/or freezer. This always ends up being being random and possesses a very "college" vibe. "Well, a tuna sandwich, a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios and some frozen corn it is then!"

Sad, I know, but the other day I found myself in this very predicament. Grant was gone for the evening at band practice and I was home to fend for myself. It still amazes me that my ability to be fancy is basically disabled when I am left to cook a meal for myself. It's as though it's the first time I've ever seen a stove and I end up crawling into the fetal position in the corner, with a half-eaten can of tuna under one arm and a jar of mayo in the other, crying, "I don't get it, I don't get it..."

This particular evening, I was slowly meandering around the grocery store, already exhausted from the inevitable mess that I was going to make after preparing my meal for one. And I can do all the arguing I want with Mirror Me, but that lazy bitch just refuses to pick up a sponge!

I knew I had it in me to figure it out though. My plan: fruit salad. Fruit is self-contained and requires no cooking or sauce (I'm not saying that a sweet dressing made with mint, syrup or brown sugar or something would not be fantastic but remember we're minimizing dishes). This particular night I went for simplicity and chose only bananas and strawberries for my salad. I added toasted pecans and a little drizzle of honey to the sliced fruit. It was simple and wonderful as any good salad should be, and clean-up practically took care of itself. Also, Mirror Me loved what that choice did for her waist line.

Grab a spoon

I'm going to regret this next sentence in about 10 years, I'm sure: I have a real problem with "diet" food. I just don't see the point. Okay, let me take that back. I do see the point. In fact, my thighs would really love it if I not only saw the point but acted on it. But I just can't bring myself to buy a microwavable, low-fat meal of grilled chicken, vegetables and brown rice, for example, when I could just make myself some grilled chicken, vegetables and brown rice.

The problem is, though, that I can't just make myself those three simple and healthy things. I may start out with the best of intentions, but inevitably I end up making some kind of butter, lemon and white wine sauce that gets slathered all over the top of everything. And then my thighs look up at me and say, "Damn you and your butter sauce! We shall never see the light of day again!"

But then Nabisco came out with these and I am torn. Based on my prior logic, I don't need the 100-calorie pack of Oreos because in theory, I could just eat two Oreos instead of 50 and call it a day. But let's be real: it is impossible to eat just two Oreos. Also, why would you want to eat only two Oreos?

As a side note here, I know that there have been countless commercials made depicting a child and their grandparent in front of two glasses of milk and a stack of Oreos and each is trying to tell the other about the best way to eat said cookie. I think the "lick it, stick it and dunk" method is quite popular? I wouldn't know because my father told me that the way you eat an Oreo is with a spoon. Yes, that's right. Read and learn:

Take Oreo and separate the chocolate cookies. Using a spoon, scrape the creamy goodness off of the cookie and eat from the spoon. Dunk the scraped-clean cookies one by one into the milk, leaving them there just before the point of breaking off of your pinched fingers and dropping to the bottom of the milk glass. That part took some practice and I recall many a glass of gray, mushy sludge milk.

But Oreos are not "good" for you. They "clog your arteries" and "make you cry when you look in the mirror." Okay, fine, so maybe the 100-calorie packs of the Oreo cookies are a good idea. The problem is the 100-calorie Oreos look and taste nothing like actual Oreos. How unsatisfying. However, the Oreo Candy Bites are delightful. Candy!?! That tastes like Oreos!?! And it is only 100 calories? The only downside is you can't eat them with a spoon...unless of course you pour them over an ice-cream sundae. Shut up, thighs.

Step One: Obtain Chocolate

By Toni Poppe

(Toni claims she doesn't like to cook, but I have yet to eat a meal she's prepared that illustrates this in any way. Sometimes I just don't understand why anyone wouldn't love to cook. In the same way, Toni doesn't understand why everyone doesn't find themselves giddy over things like grammar rules and finding fallacies in argument. Often this leads to the two of us correcting each other: "Toni, that is not a shiffonade." Or "Heather, that's not how you spell 'chiffonade.'" You might think we don't get each other. Couldn't be further from the truth.)

So the thing with me and cooking is that I'm not really a fan. I have no idea what I'm doing on this food blog, but I love Heather and would do anything for her. The adage is "write what you know", not "write what you know the bare minimum about". Unlike Heather and Brittaney, I do not lust after cookware, nor do I find cooking to be a pleasant little challenge between the ingredients, appliances and myself.

When I cook, it's more like controlled chaos. Anyone who's ever tried to carry a conversation, or heaven forbid, lend a hand will soon learn that it's best to let my little whirly dervish pass while hiding safely in the confines of a nearby closet or crawlspace. My husband goes to school most nights, and I miss having him home in the evenings. But honestly, it's probably better for our marriage that he's not there to witness most of the meal preparation. I don't even let the dog in while I'm cooking.

The problem is, I'm not what corporate America would call a "big picture" person. I admire those with vision, but I just don't have a lot of my own. As a kid, I never had an imaginary friend and I hated when adults asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. To me, the more pressing question was "How do you navigate the choppy waters of the 4th grade social scene while simultaneously annoying the hell out of your older brother?" I learned early that the devil is in the details, and as any Catholic school girl might tell you, he is scary and out to get you. So I focused my energies on all of the tiny things that go into being perfect. Bobbed hair with bangs: check. Mostly A's and B's to be smart, but not too smart: check. These have added up to one sentence on my resume: "Organized and efficient, ensuring project success from conceptualization to evaluation."

Great, but cooking requires a set of bifocals that I'm still learning how to use. All of the good cooks I know say that it's all about making everything come out right at the right time. I'm usually so focused on going from step 1 to step 2 on the main dish that I completely forget the fact that I was supposed to make a side, or that I'm also supposed to be preparing something for step 63. As a result, I'm a big believer in one pot meals. This also speaks to my nature as an old person trapped inside a 27 year old's body. I'd really like nothing better than to sit down to a crockpot or cassarole meal; it's all so neat and organized in one dish. When I see my Mom-in-law or Auntie K whip up a 5 course something, or one of my girlfriends invent a recipe on the fly, all while enjoying a nice shot of tequila or some red wine, I am in awe of their powers. They have a vision for the meal and can see it through, when I'm more focused on what we're having for dessert or if the flatware is lined up properly.

It is in that spirit of one mindedness that I offer you a link to a recipe that will not do you wrong. I made this chocolate tart
last weekend, and as I sat with my friends devouring it, I smiled knowing that all of the little details came together this time. The chocolate didn't burn, the crust didn't crumble and the ginger on top was cut precisely and placed in a neat ring. I didn't make an appetizer, the main course, a side or a salad, but in my little corner
of the world, this was all I needed for the perfect meal.

"Top Chef" Season 4: Weeks 4, 5 and 6

Yes, I suck. Moving on.

I think all that needs to be said about week 4 was that I loved, loved, LOVED the film-themed elimination challenge but team Mark and Ryan were robbed! They clearly had the best theme. Come on! A Christmas Story and a meal ode to the giant pack of neighborhood dogs that ruined Christmas dinner, forcing the family to eat Peking Duck, head and all! INGENIOUS!

Week 5. Well this was a sassy little episode was it not? People kicking chairs, Dale grabbing his crotch while yelling at Lisa to further emphasize his problem with her bad attitude -- it was anarchy! Let me give it to you straight: Antonia is my home girl and my number 2 choice to win next to Stephanie but she did have immunity in the elimination challenge and should absolutely have taken a back seat and let Spike and Zoi make whatever dish, soup or otherwise, they wanted. However, she did say she would make the soup if they insisted but strongly cautioned against it. So, go ahead Spike, remove your foot from your perfect pallet and roll back the tape. Regardless, unseasoned food is inexcusable. Goodbye Zoi.

And finally, this week I have to say I was disappointed at the decision at the judges' table. True, the more Ryan spoke about his dish the more annoying he became and no, in no way did a poached pear dessert belong at a tailgate party but at least he took a risk. What risk did Nikki take with a store-bought sausage, pepper and onion hoagie? Not to mention she completely bombed her Quickfire. Fried shrimp and coleslaw? I'm sorry -- is this Top Chef, or is she applying to be a line cook at TGI Friday's? Do I think Ryan was going to make it to the finals? No. But he at least deserved one more shot.

And on the seventh day, God made Greek food.

I have come to realize that Mediterranean food is probably one of my favorite cuisines. It is tied for first place with Mexican food and red wine. Our refrigerator is no longer without a tub of hummus, and it is becoming difficult for me to not put homemade yogurt sauce on everything that I make for dinner.

Typically the best Mediterranean food can be found in the same type of establishment that you find the best Mexican food: a no-frills hole-in-the wall. (Don't worry, I have much higher standards for red wine.)

But holes-in-the-wall aside, I am always down for a little fancy. So you can imagine my excitement when Agora Bistro opened up in downtown Pleasanton.

To start our recent meal, we ordered dolmas, which were basic but delicious. We also shared the arugula salad with beets, red onions and goat cheese. The flavors were simple and clean; just what I look for in a salad.

For dinner Grant ordered the lamb kebobs, which were admittedly a bit under-seasoned but were so tender that they almost literally melted in your mouth. This was so impressive that I soon forgot that they were under-seasoned at all. Lord knows, I am probably just going to add more salt to my meal anyway. I ordered the koftes which were ground beef and lamb patties. They were like little Greek bunless sliders that were perfectly seasoned. After doing everything in my power to not pick up my plate and lick it clean, I said to Grant, "What a perfect amount of food. Not too full, just enough." But don't get me wrong — I would have eaten six or seven more of those things if they had brought them to me.

We ended the meal with an absolutely delicious zabaglione with fresh berries. It was so light and creamy that I completely forgot the fact that it was made with sugar, wine and about 4 million egg yolks. Whatever, the fruit completely cancels out the cholesterol and fat in the dessert anyway, right? Wait, no? It doesn't? Even when you also order a slice of cheesecake to share, too? You know what? Don't judge me.

Bottom line, Agora Bistro is a wonderful addition to downtown and I will definitely be going back. Maybe even within a week of going the first time....again, don't judge me.