Eating Chicago (But Really Evanston): Ethiopian and Down Home Meals April 26, 2009

As if all that stick-to-your-ribs deep dish wasn’t enough for us, we decided on an Ethiopian feast for dinner at a nearby Evanston restaurant called Addis Abeba.  For those who’ve not had the intimate pleasure of eating Ethiopian, I’ll hint that the symbol on the front of the menu was a red circle around silverware with a line through it.  Eating with one’s hands is a part of the cultural experience of Ethiopian cuisine. 

For an appetizer, I tried the popular dish of raw beef mixed with spices such as cardamom and hot pepper.  It was very delicious wrapped in the utensil-esque injera bread that is served as a solution to keep hands mess-free. 

For our entrees, we shared the chicken doro wat, the beef kebab, and a saucy pureed chickpea dish.  They were all delicious, and the communal platter on which many Ethiopian restaurants serve their food made it a more familiar experience. 

Addis Abeba Menu

From front; clockwise: chicken doro wat, kebab, chickpea dish

my dad channeling his Ethiopian instincts

Dixie Kitchen and Bait Shop

johnny cakes

green goddess salad

trout pecan

The next morning, we were too full for anything major, so we opted for a light coffee run at Clarke’s Diner.  We got some fruit and got our caffeine fix for the day before my sister left to meet a friend at Northwestern.

Later, when hunger finally set in, my dad and I decided that we would eat lunch at the Dixie Kitchen and Bait Shop down the street from our hotel. Every time we passed it on  the street, jazz music blared out onto the sidewalk, and the clientele looked happy and at ease.  So, instead of waiting to try the Sunday brunch, we wandered in for a midday meal.

When we sat down, we were served a quaint basket of Johnny cakes, which were simultaneously corny and tender with the perfect hint of sweetness.  Spreading a thin film of butter on top of the homey griddlecakes,  I was a content diner.  Oh, what an ingenious bread basket.

For our lunch, my dad got the trout pecan with plaintains and red beans and rice.  I got the Dixie Kitchen green goddess salad, which was a mountain of large croutons, cornbread croutons, fried green tomatoes, grilled chicken, and pecans over romaine.  The green goddess dressing was redolent of basil and delicious.  My friend went to Louisiana for Jazz Fest over spring break, but I was able to find my own little corner of New Orleans in the Dixie Kitchen.

Eating Chicago: Burt’s Place April 25, 2009

When my sister was accepted to Northwestern University, I jumped for joy, practically crying tears of happiness.   Why my enthusiasm was tantamount to my sister’s is easily explained.   An acceptance letter from Northwestern=a college visit in Chicago=me begging to go along=happy eating. 

As soon as my dad, my sister, and I got into Chicago, we headed over to our hotel in downtown Evanston.  No sooner had we put down our bags then we sped off in a cab to Burt’s Place for some of its famed deep-dish. 

A quaint environment, the dining area at Burt’s relies mostly on dim lamps and lanterns for light and houses much vintage memorabelia.  Burt’s wife was hospitable and made us at home with some “pop,” (gotta love that northwest territory slang!) and beer.  Her charm comes from her humble and matter-of fact attitude; when another man ordered a “Stella,” she asked what a Stella was.  Upon being informed that it was a beer, she laughed and said no, that Stella was her daughter’s dog’s name, and that they only sold Great Lakes beer.  I knew I was going to like Burt’s.

Burt himself was a conversational man and talked about corrupt politics with my dad for a while.  He must be around seventy, but he seems young at heart and looks much younger.   I wonder how a man of that age can appear so tirelessly dedicated to a job in a kitchen.  His pizza is phenomenal to boot.

When the well-worn black deep-dish pan came out to our table, we could barely keep ourselves from diving into it while Burt’s wife served us.  Our peppers and mushroom pie had a flawless carmelization to the crust and lacked the doughiness that deep dish pizza can sometimes have.  The dough was thick, but it was cooked through nonetheless, making a sort of soft bread topped with a thin layr of cheese and sauce.  I now understand that New York and Chicago style pizzas are two different foods–not comparable in the least, yet equally delectable.

deep dish at Burt's

When we left Burt’s, we knew we would not be able to find  deep dishquite that awesome  for the rest of our trip unless we could find the time to return.  We did not take comfort knowing that our hotel was nearby to many deep dish pizza chains; they would not stack up.  All I could do to console myself was to think that should my sister decide to go to Northwestern, I will become a quasi-regular at Burt’s when I visit her.

Appetite Gone at Buddakan April 10, 2009

A couple of weeks ago, I went to Buddakan with my sister and some friends.  After my cousin called me specifically to say how much he loved Buddakan after seeing it as my facebook status, I was confident that we would have a decent meal.  The lavish decor furthered my feeling that the night would be a successful outing; it was imperial looking and very large. 

Because most of us are running out of money as a result of joblessness, we ordered lightly.  For the table, we got the duck and foie gras springrolls; the edamame dumplings; the taro and pork lollipops; the braised veal cheek; the pork lomein; and a greens stirfry.  Most of these were not things I was too keen on ordering, but as we were a large group that included a person unable to eat meat on Fridays, I didn’t force my choices as usual. 

As for the apps (the springrolls, dumplings, and lollopops), I was mostly perplexed.  The springrolls were good, but there was minimal foie (why not just leave it out then?), and the passionfruit dipping sauce was punishingly acidic.  The edamane dumplings tasted very odd–the filling was like a starchy, green oobleck flavored with Kraft mac-and-cheese extract.  Lastly, the lollipops were coated thickly with a pasty, starchy crust that was not appealing.  Overall, apps were a letdown, but they did not disappoint nearly as much as the mains.

We should have known that each main would be enough for one, but since the restaurant was family style and they brought one of each appetizer so that we could each have one, we weren’t expecting such individual portions.  Oh well–that was our mistake.  Still, taste did not compensate.  The pork lomein was no better than any I’ve had at mediocre Chinese takeout places near me.  In addition, the veal cheek was meager –served in small pieces–and got lost amongst the lomein noodles over which it was served.  It was tasty meat, but there was little present.  Also, it was awkwardly topped with large cuts of raw apple which had no connection to the dish.  Finally, although I don’t even want to talk about it, the greens stirfry was borderline offensive.  I tasted as though someone cooked up random greens, including broccoli and some tough-stemmed leafy ones and poured gross sesame oil sauce on it.  Its oiliness reminded me why I object to ordering out Chinese in New Jersey, only I was eating this mess in a nice New York restaurant.

Desserts held their own, although a chocolate and banana mille fuile had no impact on the overall satisfaction of the table.  My coconut creme brulee was good, although the ice cream that came with it tasted nothing of lemongrass and was icy.  Also, the lemongrass foam reminded me why many people have adverse reactions to the popular air in water dispersion–little attention was paid to creating a harmonious flavor, and the texture did nothing for the whole of the dessert.  The crying chocolate, meanwhile, was satisfying with its molten center, and my sister liked the plating. 

Service was not great; I noticed that our waiter never switched our plates out after appetizers.  Also, our candelstick, a tall bird, was covered in wax so thoroughly that my friend thought it was a fish.  That was not a great reflection of the restaurant’s attention to detail.  Also, my espresso did not arrive with dessert, and when I asked for it, a waiter told another waiter, who came back to ask me if, in fact, I was missing and espresso, and my affirmation finally warranted that one little sip of intense coffee that I dared order earlier.  Perhaps the size and lavishness overcomes the waiters as well as the patrons.

I do not have any desire whatsoever to return to Buddakan.  Although each of us only paid $30 total, I would rather spend $3 on a knish or a gyro on a street corner.  The ambience is perhaps not equal, but the flavor is a hell of a lot more authentic.  I suppose that I felt that the restaurant was a poor representation of Asian cusine.  I recently ate at a no-frills Thai restaurant in a town near mine with my parents.   Although the plating was lackluster, the seating was tight, and the service was iffy, the food hit the spot. 

 Buddakan, only a forcible return would bring me to dine with you again.