Eating My Feelings: Rotary Sushi

When I was in my early/mid-twenties, I dated a pile of hot garbage. I mean an absolute dumpster fire of a man who was simultaneously cocky and wildly insecure. You know the type, and if you don't, uh oh... *slowly lifts mirror to reader*. The one positive that I'm able to salvage from the ashes is that he negged me into trying new foods, which I desperately needed having grown up in a meat & potatoes midwest household (I am still VERY much into meat & potatoes, FYI). Throughout the relationship, I fell in love with all types of cuisine I vowed I'd never try, like what you'll be reading about today: sushi. 

Me at 22: Fish? Gross. Raw fish? Why.

Me at 29: Gimme some of dat sweet sashimi.

My favorite, most accessible sushi restaurant in Chicago is Sushi+, or as most call it, Rotary Sushi.

SPOT: Sushi+ is located on Broadway in Lakeview, snuggled between a UFC gym and a defunct "specialty video" shop, which I'm pretty sure is a fancy name for porn store. It's incredibly easy to miss.

Photo Credit: Yelp

The decor inside is overwhelming. It's decorated to look like a busy Japanese intersection, and they truly commit to the bit. The walls are covered in a photo-realistic wallpaper of a non-descript panoramic view of a Japanese city block at night with blurred headlights and a city skyline glowing in the background. Overhead are fake stoplights, and the floor has painted lanes for human traffic. They've even gone so far as to add thick metal "guardrails" against the walls.

Photo Credit: Yelp

The piece de resistance is the rotary belt itself, meant to feel like lanes of stacked highway traffic. All of the booths and counter give access to this delicious roadway. It's nearly impossible to walk in here and not smile. Truly adorable.

NOTE: Not actual footage of Sushi+

VIBES: Everything about this place is clean and efficient. When you sit down, a server greets you and hands you a single-use hot towelette to wipe your hands, which of course, I love. The waitstaff is incredibly pleasant, which, why wouldn't they be? They have the best job there is: They bring you a towel and a drink, then don't have to come back until you're ready to close out. You want their attention? There's a button at every station that you can press to call them over: no constant check-ins, no getting caught with your mouth full, just uninterrupted fish time.

That being said, the place is always abuzz with activity. Your water glass is never empty. As soon as a table is vacated, it's cleared. I love it. It's like dinner and a show for someone who has OCD and loves to clean.

GRUB: It's sushi! All kinds and manner of sushi. All of your favorite raw fish standbys like nigiri and California rolls are in constant rotation (literally) on the belt, but if you're feeling adventurous, they've got some weird shit available, too. Take for instance, the Unagi Cheese Maki, which features eel, cucumber, and avocado topped with American cheese and unagi sauce. American cheese. Why. There's also a Mexican sushi sandwich that always piques my interest, but I just can't get down with it. I'm a traditionalist when it comes to sushi. And most things, really.

I love a good escolar nigiri. Clean, fresh flavor. This place really gets it right. "Lauren, it's fish. It's literally just a chunk of fish on rice." Ok, but have you ever had a BAD piece of sushi? Only then will you learn to appreciate a GOOD piece of fish. This place is always incredibly fresh and not at all full of fish funk (Hey, what's up everybody, we're Fish Funk! Can we get a suggestion of anything at all?). And the rice? Delish. It's the perfect consistency and has hints of both sweet and sour. The perfect complement to dat fresh, fresh fish.

Photo Credit: Yelp

Also a big fan of the spicy salmon maki, a tasty Boston roll, a crunchy California roll, or any single ingredient rice roll. In case you were wondering. Oh, you weren't? WELL THEN JUST LEAVE.

Not seeing anything you want on that adorable belt? THEN WHY'D YOU EVEN COME HERE, KRISTEN?! Jesus. Ok. Sorry. Listen, if you want something other than cold fish and rice, you can order any number of delicious items off of the iPad at your table. Ramen. Bento boxes. Elaborate rolls. Skewers. A whole metric crap-ton of food items. If you can't find SOMETHING you like at this restaurant, then you're AN ABSOLUTE MONSTER, KRISTEN. GIVE ME MY SWEATSHIRT BACK.

Feeling full but want something sweet? You could get some weird dessert full of bean paste (who decided this was a dessert), or you could get a piece of cheesecake. Cheesecake Factory cheesecake. At a rotary sushi restaurant. Snuggled up next to some scallops on the belt. It's absolutely hilarious to me. The best part? As if getting cheesecake at the rotary sushi restaurant wasn't enough? It's frozen. It's ALWAYS frozen. I sincerely believe that that's how they like it because it comes out ICE COLD. Ice crystals atop the dairy-filled dessert. If you do decide you want cheesecake, pull it off the belt right when you sit down and MAYBE it'll be halfway thawed by the time you're ready to eat it.

Possibly my favorite part of this whole experience is paying. Each dish on the belt is served on a color-coded plate that correlates with a price. Really satisfies that need to make every dinner a math problem. Simple 6 piece maki rolls start at just $2.50, with prices increasing with complexity up to like $6.50 a plate. Most 2-piece plates of nigiri are $3.50, and they don't skimp on the cuts.

Photo Credit: Yelp Look at all that math.

FUN SHIT: Anything you order off the menu is delivered to your table via tiny race car. It gives you tiny race car honks when it arrives and more tiny honks as it heads back to the kitchen. It's the most adorable way to get dead fish delivered that I've ever seen. Beep beep!

See the tiny race car in action here:

FEELINGS INGESTED: This place is for those times when you're coming out of a depressive episode that was triggered by god knows what and you're feeling social for the first time in two months and you want to eat a lot of something but don't want the pain and discomfort that comes from eating a whole pizza in front of another human being. Sushi is perfect for this quandary. As Mitch Hedberg once said, "Rice is great if you're really hungry, and you want to eat 2000 of something." In other words, this place is perfect for those times when you want to feel accomplished.

OVERALL:  Man, that dude sucked. Hate that I let myself put up with that bullshit for so long, ya know? I feel like it really stunted my growth as a person–... oh, the restaurant. Right. If you want quality sushi with a fun atmosphere at a reasonable price, Sushi+ is a must-try.

Please note that I am in no way a qualified food critic. I'm picky and boring and really like cheeseburgers. Take my opinions with several grains of sea salt.

Haiku Reviews: "The Real Doctor Will See You Shortly: A Physician's First Year" by Matt McCarthy

A doctor's first year.
He's scared, humbled, tired and young.
Careful with needles.

Eating My Feelings: Bavette's Bar & Boeuf

Listen. I’m no fancy boy. But every once in a while, I’m a fancy boy. For as much as I love burgers and fried chicken, I’m not above putting on a slightly fancier flannel and shelling out a little more for some highfalutin cuisine (cuisine is a fancy boy term for food stuffs, in case there are any non-fancy boys reading).

Also, just for the record, this place does have burgers and fried chicken on the menu. You can take the fancy out of the boy, but you can’t take the boy… somewhere… that’s fancy… because… she’ll be wearing sneakers.

Anyway. Bavette’s Bar & Boeuf.

Photo Cred: Bavette’s Website

SPOT: Bavette’s Bar & Boeuf is conveniently located across from the Merchandise Mart in River North. What I mean is that it’s convenient to basically no one, but I work in the Merchandise Mart, and this is MY blog, so what I say goes. If you weren’t looking for it, you could easily walk right past this gem. In fact, I have. Even when I’ve been looking for it. The sleek glass doors lead into a stark, modern breezeway where a hostess with ironic glasses looks up your reservation (assuming you thought ahead for once, Greg.) and then passes you off to another hostess who takes you through a heavy wooden door and into the dining room. Is it efficient? No. Is it fancy? Also no. But I’m sure there’s some reason they do it this way… maybe the hostess with the glasses is afraid of the dark.

I mention the darkness because it can take up to three minutes for the average person’s eyes to adjust to the light (or complete lack of it) in the dining room. If I had to describe the decor of this restaurant in one word, I’d say “could-absolutely-be-the-set-of-a-mobster-movie.” Sinatra would love the place.* Ornate red couches and overstuffed accent chairs line the walls at the entrance act as a waiting area for the idiots who didn’t get a reservation. There are rounded booths and freestanding tables with glass chandeliers emitting soft, yellow light overhead. Lotta dark wood. Lotta candles and men wearing vests.

Towards the back of the restaurant is a bar lined with expensive booze that’s backlit to provide a dreamy, multicolored haze. Behind this bar is the actual kitchen, bustling but rather quiet, almost as if they know what they’re doing back there.** There’s additional seating in the basement area which is more of the same but slightly quieter.

*I didn’t know Sinatra personally. This is an extrapolation based on other places I’ve heard that he liked. This was also not to imply that he was a mobster. Also not saying he’s not NOT a mobster. He had a lot going on.

**This reminds me of the time my college boyfriend and I were making spaghetti in his tiny apartment, and the ground beef got a little too brown and set off the smoke detector. I turned off the heat and took it off the burner, then calmly turned around to open the window, only to see he had taken the pot of noodles to the window. When I inquired as to why he had done such a strange thing, he said: “they were smoking!”. My boyfriend didn’t know the difference between steam and smoke. He was 24 years old. Hope you’re doing ok, bud.

VIBES: This is my kind of fancy place. Upscale, but not snooty about it. The staff–with the exception of the hostess lady–are laid-back and professional. Attentive, but not annoying. I can imagine this place being great for pretty much any occasion. I’ve brought local friends, friends from out of town, and even my dad (hey, dad!) to this place and it has consistently received high marks. Can’t vouch for its effectiveness as a date spot since I’m going to die alone, but I imagine it’d be a great spot to have forced conversation or sit in comfortable silence with your husband of 35 years.

GRUB: Look. I haven’t had a bad thing here. All of the things are delicious. First, we’ll start with the most obvious. Steak.

For those of you who didn’t take two years of high school French, boeuf means beef. Bavette’s is known for their fine meats and, as my dad would call them, “slimy ocean critters”, which are oysters, shrimp, or any other gross thing that comes from a body of water that isn’t fish. I happen to be allergic to the said creatures (allegedly), but I can put away some steak.

My preferred cut is a filet since I despise the texture of fat on both my steaks and the outside of my thighs. The 6-ounce filet comes cooked to your liking with a roasted tomato and some of those weird watercress things that I’ve never understood. Also béarnaise. The meat is perfectly cooked and unbelievably tender, much like the outside of my thighs.

Photo Cred: Dining Chicago

If you’re not feeling beef for whatever stupid reason, might I recommend either the roasted or fried chicken. They’re both juicy and insanely flavorful. The fried chicken is served on a bed of mashed potatoes (we’ll get to these later) and comes with an adorable boat of gravy that only adds more flavor and fanciness to the dish.

Photo Cred: Bavette’s Website

Whatever entree you choose, be prepared for a gigantic portion size. Not the steaks, obviously… 6oz. is 6oz., but you could easily get away with splitting a main and getting a couple of sides.

!!!!!!!!!!SEAMLESS SEGUE!!!!!!!!!

The sides at Bavette’s steal the show. Any person who’s known me for more than 12 minutes could guess that my favorites are the mashed potatoes and the mac and cheese.

Appropriately listed as “buttery mashed potatoes,” these spuds aren’t fucking around. My best guess at the recipe is 50% butter, 30% garlic, 20% cream, 10% potato. They’re topped with roasted garlic and just a little bit of jus. I wouldn’t normally use the word decadent since I’m not a fancy boy, but these puppies are decadent. Maybe referring to potatoes as ‘puppies’ cancels out the fanciness of decadent. Perfect.

I don’t want to brag, but I’m pretty well-versed in mac and cheese. Lactose intolerance and gluten sensitivity be damned; nothing will stop me from putting those cheesy noods directly into my mouth hole. The mac and cheese at Bavette’s is truly unique. First, it’s got truffle in it, which I’m normally not into. Truffle is added to a lot of perfectly good foods for no reason, but in this instance, it works. The unique, earthy flavor of the truffle perfectly complements the white cheddar base of the sauce. The sauce perfectly coats the cavatappi noodles (which I learned by googling “curly pasta”) and even provides the beloved cheese pull as you dig in. The top is lightly broiled and topped with chives, which everyone knows are useless, but I get it.

“Lauren’s not stupid enough to talk about a starter after she spent 45 minutes talking about mains, right? She’s not THAT unorganized and un-fancy, right?” WRONG.

Goat cheese dip. It has all the things I love in one perfectly executed dish. House-made red sauce with a generous dollop of aged goat cheese in the middle, baked and served with thick-cut garlic bread. I have dreams about this stuff. I’m not ashamed to say that I’ve sat at the bar after work and eaten just this dip and the loaf of bread it comes with by myself after a long day of contemplating my existence and pondering whether I’m depressed because of societal pressures to do and have and be more or simply because it be like that sometimes, which it absolutely do be like that sometimes. It’s basically like eating a super fancy pizza that you put together yourself.

Photo Cred: Trip Advisor GOD, JUST LOOK AT IT.

After you’ve had your fill of savory, get your sweet fix with the chocolate cream pie. Jesus god. Rich, chocolate ganache in a slightly smokey chocolate cookie crust with the most beautifully smooth scoop of fresh whipped cream and topped with dark chocolate shavings. I’m not normally a whipped cream person, but this stuff is like the perfect soft dairy cloud that cuts the richness of the chocolate. It’s just… it’s almost unfair how good it is.

Photo Cred: The Googs Look at that stupid, delicious egg of whipped cream.

FUN SHIT: There’s another Bavette’s in Vegas, in the event that you find yourself in the black and wanna treat yourself to some fancy, delicious snacks.

FEELINGS INGESTED: This is where I eat all my expensive feelings, like when I’m worrying about about diversifying my portfolio or the ever-decreasing value of my Porsche***. If you’re a fancy boy like me, this would be a great place to have a “cheap” meal. If you’re a middle class slob with dreams of not going broke after one hospital visit then this place is a great treat.

***I had to look up how to spell Porsche. I’m not cut out for this life.

OVERALL: I’m gonna be honest with you. Bavette’s is my favorite restaurant in the city so far. There, I said it. Between the service, the food and the fanciness, it’s a must-visit for the sad, the happy and anyone who’s excited by delicious food.

Please note that I am in no way a qualified food critic. I'm picky and boring and really like cheeseburgers. Take my opinions with several grains of sea salt.

Haiku Reviews: "The Flight Attendant" by Chris Bohjalian

Drunk stewardess screws man.
At dawn he's dead, was it her?
The sister knows more.

Eating My Feelings: Honey Butter Fried Chicken

Fried chicken. One of my favorite flavors of feelings. I'm always on the hunt for crispy skin and juicy meat (quote pulled from Jeffrey Dahmer's Tinder profile) as well as delicious, non-vegan, full fat, clog-my-arteries-style delicious Southern flavors. Honey Butter Fried Chicken is where I go to quench my Meat Thirst™. 

Photo Credit: Internetz

SPOT: HBFC is in Avondale which is between Roscoe Village and the northern-most part of the Logan area. Translation: near absolutely nothing. There is however a shopping center with a Target and a Mariano's right across the street in case you'd like to take your chicken to go and ugly cry in your SUV while a teenager corrals carts (Sorry, kid. Sometimes mama gets sad about nothing and everything all at once and needs to shove her face full of fried food in the parking lot. You'll understand when you're older.).

Photo Credit: A Goog search with 4 typos

If you're feeling a little more optimistic than that and you aren't actively sobbing, they'll let you stay in the restaurant! The room is rather small and has enough seating for ~30 people if I had to guess. The layout isn't great: it’s super angular and cramped. You order at the counter and then sit, so the line can easily spill into the seating area. It's ‘cozy’ during peak hours.**

**UPDATE: They recently rearranged the front room so it’s slightly more streamlined and comfortable. I’d like to think they read this review and changed EVERYTHING. You’re welcome, guys.

It's sparsely decorated, which I always love in a restaurant. I love a place that doesn't need to drown the walls in flair to distract from how bland the food is. I don't need vanity license plates or framed black and white photos of sports teams to make me enjoy this chicken.

There's also a fenced-in back patio that's about the same size as the indoor dining area that would be perfect on a cool summer night.

VIBES: After having written a few of these posts, it's become clear to me that I like places in which the staff feel completely neutral about the customers' existence. It's a transaction: I tell you what items I would like to acquire with my American dollars, you tell me how many dollars are required, and then I'll eat said items. I don't need you to compliment my shirt or ask about my day, I'm here to eat with my hands, and I'd love to have as little human interaction as possible. I can see how this wouldn't be everyone's cup of gin, but it's mine for sure.

GRUB: Listen. This chicken is delicious. It's easy. It's agreeable. It's that person who shows up to the party after you were sure they weren't gonna show, and they brought pizza. The exterior is crispy and flavorful, and the meat is juicy and delicious. You can go the traditional legs and thighs way, but if you're looking to eat those feelings without a choking hazard, might I recommend the tenders. The chicken comes with your choice of sauce, of which I've tried the signature honey butter and BBQ sauce. The honey butter is sweet and rich. The BBQ sauce tastes like a mix of Bullseye and Sweet Baby Ray's, and I’m not at all mad at that.

Photo Credit: My shitty iPhone

While the chicken is delicious, what I really find myself craving is the sides. The schmaltz smashed potatoes are just lumpy enough with just enough skin and the chicken gravy is just... it's so good. A quality potato dish (as stated on my dating profile). The biscuits are like a hybrid of cornbread and biscuit, both dense AND fluffy with a sweet, earthy flavor. Wow, I hate myself for writing that. They're just biscuits, ok? Don't be weird about it.

Then there's the mac & cheese. First of all, let me start by saying that pimento cheese freaks me out. I've avoided it for most of my adult life because that's what I do with things that scare me. But this pimento mac & cheese... I have dreams about it. I miss it when it's gone. It's as orange as Snooki from season 1 of Jersey Shore. The fusilli noodle is the perfect vehicle for the creamy, sharp mix of pimento and Wisconsin cheddar, ensuring that each bite is packed full of flavor. And every mac & cheese should be topped with breadcrumbs. The touch of crunch makes me forget about the time I fell down the stairs the Clark and Lake redline stop and two homeless guys had to help me up because my ankle got caught under a stair. But only for a moment.

FUN SHIT: They have only fancy sodas at the fountain station. Artisanal sodas for the fancy boy you are. Also, Honey Butter sources as many ingredients as possible locally. Their chicken is antibiotic-free and organic sourced from an Amish farm in Indiana. I can't help but imagine the chickens in wide-brimmed hats and long beards. Also, they have brunch!

FEELINGS INGESTED: Again, I'd like to apologize to who I'll call Luke who was just trying to pull carts from the lot before he got off of his 6-hour shift at the shittiest Mariano's in the city. I didn't mean to frighten you, but sometimes a lady needs to blast Adele and eat macaroni in her SUV. 

Jk, I'd never eat a salad.

OVERALL: If you're looking for quality fried chicken, classic Southern sides with a twist and indifferent waitstaff, I highly recommend Honey Butter Fried Chicken. #MeatThirstQuenched

Please note that I am in no way a qualified food critic. I'm picky and boring and really like cheeseburgers. Take my opinions with several grains of sea salt.

Haiku Reviews: "The Girl Before" by JP Delaney

Minimalist house, yikes
Two timelines. OCD. Suspense.
It's always the ex

Eating My Feelings: Ann Sather

Some feelings are best ingested first thing in the morning. The shame of watching your Snapchat story from the club. Regret from sending that late night text. Knowing that life is meaningless and whatever minor "successes" you may achieve in the eyes of your peers ultimately mean nothing and leave you empty because material goods have never brought long-term joy to mankind so then you start to reevaluate why you're even alive.

Lol, jk, I'm fine, thanks. 

I SAID I'M FINE. 

#mood

So breakfast, huh? Or brunch, as everyone under 35 calls it. Ann Sather. Let's do it.

SPOT: Ann Sather has a few locations, but the Belmont location is easily the best (and the original). The unassuming restaurant sits just yards from the Belmont red line stop, making it far too convenient for me to stuff myself on a regular basis. 

Photo Source: Interwebs

Once inside, you’re greeted by a glass display case of various home-baked goods. Brownies, sweet muffins, breads, and of course, the pièce de résistance: cinnamon rolls. More on this later. Just before you're tempted to reach towards the case for a passionate embrace, you're seated. 

Photo Source: Interwebs

The dining room is cramped. There can't be more than 18" of space between any two tables. At some point, the restaurant was expanded to the storefront next door and filled to an equally claustrophobic coziness. The walls are hand-painted in traditional Swedish art and what I guess are Swedish idioms as well as Ann's slogan, "Good food, good friends, and good conversation." There's no music to speak of, just the soft roar of conversation and forks on plates. The occasional “FUCK” erupts from the kitchen. I think it's just one guy, and I'm pretty sure it's the short guy with the slicked-back hair and faded tribal tattoo. Oh, and the skittering busboy who quietly sings Mighty Mouse to himself as he fills your water or wipes down tables.

"HERE I COME TO SAVE THE DAY."

Photo Source: Interwebs Does anyone know who Mighty Mouse is anymore?

*fills coffee. leaves*

VIBES: If you show up at 10am on a Saturday, then you're a fool, and you get what you deserve: an hour wait. But. If you get there even 15 minutes earlier, the same fuck-screaming host with lots of hair gel will tell you to sit "over there." This is one of my favorite parts of this place; the waitstaff has a very European-feel to them. Not overly friendly and sickly sweet, but polite-ish and attentive. I love that. I don't want to talk about my weekend or have you call me hun, just bring me dem cinnamon rolls ASAP. And they've got shit to do! I've never seen that restaurant not packed. 

The menus double as placemats and napkins are paper. If you're looking for a quiet, chill, bougie brunch spot with bottomless mimosas, this is not the place for you. Seems like a good time to mention that it's BYOB, though I've never seen anyone bring in booze. I think the energy of the place pushes people to eat and leave, not sit around for four hours talking about nothing, which is lovely because that's my worst nightmare.

GRUB: If you know me at all (which you probably do because I'm pretty sure only my dad and my ex-boyfriend read this blog), then you could probably guess what I order at this place. 

I get the Southern Decadence.

Freshly-baked biscuits. Topped with sausage gravy. With perfectly poached eggs. 

Photo Source: My shitty iPhone

It's everything a hungover sad person could want out of breakfast. Or even just a sad person. Or probably anyone. The biscuits are light and fluffy, perfectly cooked and piping hot. The gravy is thick and flavorful with a generous amount of sausage (giggity). The eggs are just eggs. But. Expertly poached each time.

I would argue that the best part of this place is that every entree comes with two sides. I usually go with the "hash browns", which I put in quotes because they're Swedish hash browns, which are boiled potatoes that are thrown into a skillet to brown slightly before being served. Don't get your hopes up for the traditional grated hash or home fries, cuz ur gunna be diss-appointed. Still good though… just different. Like a cross between a baked potato and a home fry.

But the real treasure here? The cinnamon rolls. 

Photo Source: My shitty iPhone. Look at these glorious buns. Good lord.

Sweet, but not too sweet. Strong cinnamon flavor. Slathered in sweet, runny frosting. Made the night before in-house. Frosted right before they head to your table.

They're perfect.

I've searched the city far and wide for a better cinnamon roll, but truly nothing compares. You know how losers who are in love say, "they're my person"? That's how I feel about these rolls. They are my person.

****LIFE HACK - LIFE HACK - LIFE HACK****

YOU CAN GET CINNAMON ROLLS AS BOTH OF YOUR SIDES.

A WHOLE RAFT OF CINNAMON ROLLS. EAT YOUR FEELINGS FOR HOURS.

Photo Source: The Googs

FUN SHIT: Cinnamon rolls. BYOB. Mighty Mouse.

FEELINGS INGESTED: You know that feeling when you wake up feeling great and you do a big morning stretch and let out a giant yawn and then, like the doors in The Shining, all of the embarrassing things you've ever done, the trauma you've endured, the weight of your life's choices come crashing into your brain and you stare at the ceiling as you slowly drown? 

The cinnamon rolls help a little.

OVERALL: Sometimes a tourist-y place is tourist-y for a reason. Start your day with a giant bomb of delicious starches and sugars to feel a moment of joy FOR ONCE.

Please note that I am in no way a qualified food critic. I'm picky and boring and really like cheeseburgers. Take my opinions with several grains of sea salt.

Haiku Reviews: "Let's Pretend This Never Happened" by Jenny Lawson

Lots of taxidermy talk
Social anxiety sucks
Long rambling sentences

Eating My Feelings: Public House

It seemed appropriate to post this on a Tuesday, as it was a Tuesday many months ago that I fell deeply in love with the subject of this post. 

It's no secret that I love garbage food, or as some people call it, "comfort food.” Or as nutritionists call it "plates full of heart disease and death wishes.”

My favorite death wish is the burger. Simple, warm, delicious. Like pair of high-heeled Crocs, a burger can be dressed up or down depending on the mood, but sexy either way. 

Photo Credit: The best part of the internet.

If you told me a year ago that my favorite Crocs and I would be waltzing into a sports bar once a week I probably would've said, "is there a super good burger deal there?"

It'd be a pretty short, intuitive conversation. Point is, this post is about burgers.

SPOT: Public House is a sports bar in the heart of River North. The place is sprawling with two bars, lots of high top tables and a set of reservable event tables in the back that have taps at the table. I've always been curious as to how those work... is it booze by the hour? Do they track how much you've poured? Is it frowned upon to put your mouth directly under the tap?

Naturally, there are tons of big screen TVs showing whatever boring sports ball happens to be playing that night. A state of the art sound system blares top-40 hits over the chatter. And by state of the art I mostly just mean super loud.

Up in the top right of this photo are the weird tap tables. This is only one half of the restaurant, by the way. The other half includes a 360 bar and 800 more televisions. Photo Credit: Internet

Oh, also, there’s a DJ booth? Not sure why… I’ve never seen it in use, but maybe it turns into a dance club after hours.

Fun fact*: Public House is the room service provider for the Kinzie Hotel next door, which I think is a brilliant partnership for both. The Kinzie doesn't have to have a kitchen dedicated to room service, and Public House gets the added business from the hotel. High five, guys.

*Fun fact brought to you by my dad, who excitedly told me this fact four times when they came to visit and stayed at the Kinzie.

VIBES: To reiterate, Public House is a sports bar in the heart of River North, and it fully fulfills all of those stereotypes. The muscly bartenders are one vigorous martini shake away from Hulking out of their t-shirts (Were they out of larges? Not complaining, I don’t mind the view.), and most of the wait staff look like beautiful extras from a P90X video. I try not to make eye contact as I shove what must be 900 calories-worth of burger into my face. They all seem to be pretty friendly and will bring more napkins to the table while politely averting their eyes.

Wait staff vs. me Photo Credit: Internet

Something to note is that this place ALWAYS seems to have an event happening, meaning lots of tables are adorned with tiny reserved signs at prime dining hours. The bar is always first-come-first-serve, though, and I’ve found that if you hover behind a business boy who’s saddled up to the bar long enough, he’ll get uncomfortable enough to give up his seat.

GRUB: “Loud? Crowded? Sports? Lauren, I thought you hated all those things!” You’re right, human reading this, I do hate all of those things. So why I have I gone once a week for nearly four months?

The burger.

More specifically, the burger deal.

Each day of the week features a different special. Monday is cheesesteaks, Wednesday is tacos, but Tuesday… Tuesday is burger night.

Two beef patties topped with American cheese, lettuce, tomato, onion, pickle and garlic mayo nestled in a Hawaiian sesame bun. My god.

BUT WAIT… There’s more.

Photo Credit: The Google

With this beautiful burger comes a mountain of crispy french fries and a Goose Island Green IPA.

And all of this. The burger. The fries. AND a pint of Chicago beer. Can be yours. For $10.

Ten US dollars.

Forty quarters.

Five two dollar bills.

I’ve been to restaurants in River North where I’ve paid $10 for each of those items individually (Yeah, one time I accidentally ordered a $12 beer. I don’t want to talk about it.), but on Tuesday… it’s all $10.

Now, this is an excellent deal in ANY city. My favorite burger night in Cincinnati was also $10, but didn’t include a beer. On any other night at Public House, this meal would cost you $22, which is about what I’d expect to spend on a sports bar dinner, but on TUESDAYS? $10.

Not only is this an amazing deal, the food is incredible. I’m almost mad to say it, since it’s a sports bar but it’s SO good. The burger is my favorite in the city. Probably top 5 of all time, too. The patties are cooked to perfection; juicy and delicious with melted American cheese spilling over the sides. An important detail that makes all the difference: The lettuce is shredded, which is how lettuce should be on a burger. Sure, it makes it a little messier, but it provides an actual texture difference that one leaf of wilted iceberg does not. The bun is soft but structured enough to hold together through the entire caveman-like experience, and the garlic mayo adds a subtle richness throughout.

Up close and personal with the burger deal. Mostly because I'm too self conscious about looking like an annoying millennial taking pictures of my stupid food, but here I am writing about it, so. There's that. Photo Credit: My shitty iPhone

This amazing burger experience is topped off with some of the best French fries I’ve ever had. Crispy, light, well-seasoned French fries that aren’t too thin (I’m looking at you “shoestring” fries) and aren’t too thick (Wedges are an exception to the too thick rule.). You can upgrade to parmesan garlic fries, dry rubbed fries or sweet potato tots for an upcharge, but I’m a traditionalist. Don’t fix it if it ain’t broke, or whatever.

I will admit, it took some time for me to be on board with the Green Line. I’ve never been a huge IPA fan, but after several weeks, I have been Stockholm-ed into believing that it’s a great beer for this meal. It really is a well-balanced IPA, and while I probably wouldn’t throw a bunch back in another bar, the slight bitterness cuts through the rich flavors of the burger quite nicely.

Here's a much prettier version of a burger from Public House, though it's not the $10 Tuesday deal. This one looks like it's got chicken and some sort of fancy sauce. Still. You get it. ALSO... look at those fries. Photo Credit: Public House website

I have eaten exactly 0 other menu items and likely never will. I have also exclusively visited Public House on Tuesdays, and it’s unlikely that that will ever change. I mean… unless they move burger night.

FUN SHIT: If you make it through the burger deal and STILL have room left in what must be your gigantic stomach, they have cake shakes. Cake. Shakes. Boozy milkshakes/floats with an actual slice of cake on top. I’ve yet to be sad enough to order one, but I’m sure my day will come.

It’s only a matter of time.

Photo Credit: Public House's website

FEELINGS INGESTED: Sometimes I hold onto feelings through the weekend just so I can eat more of them on burger Tuesdays. Totally worth it.

OVERALL: Amazing, delicious burger deal. 10/10 will eat again. Probably tonight. Probably as long as I live in Chicago.

Please note that I am in no way a qualified food critic. I'm picky and boring and really like cheeseburgers. Take my opinions with several grains of sea salt.

Haiku Reviews: "People I Want to Punch in the Throat" by Jen Mann

this book really sucked
she calls her husband "The Hubs"
suburban life is hard

Eating My Feelings: Smylie Brother's Brewing

Friends of mine know that I have a soft spot for two things: dogs and barbecue. 

And I have very strong feelings about both (Pugs are the worst and North Carolina style > South Carolina, Memphis styles, for the record.).

Look at this stupid, ugly idiot.

When I heard about Smylie Brother's Brewing, I was cautiously optimistic. A brewery? With pizza? AND BARBECUE? Three of my favorite feeling stiflers under one roof? It must be too good to be true.

Spoiler: It wasn't. 

SPOT: Smylie is located in the northern suburb of Evanston, a diverse area full of college students and young families. The purple line will get you within two blocks of Smylie, but I enjoy the scenic 20-minute drive up along Lake Michigan. On my last trip up, the leaves were in their full autumn glory. Pretty neat. 

Photo Credit: Smylie's website.

The building itself is huge with an interesting mix of architectural styles. There's a patio outside and a second floor with fireplaces and couches that was housing a private 40th birthday party for a nice lady named Jill, according to the closing line of "Happy Birthday." There are two bars, one that sits in front of the brewery portion of the building and another with an imposing open-fire oven for their pizzas. 

Photo Credit: Smylie's website

VIBES: For as open as the space is, it feels cozy. Like you're having barbecue in a really fancy barn/warehouse. A barehouse. A warn. There are families, Jill's group of rowdy over-the-hillers, younger folks out with friends; it's almost like all kinds of people enjoy delicious BBQ. The staff are all well educated on the beers and menu and are pretty attentive (Note: Much less attentive at the bar, which is fair, I guess. She's got shit to do.). 

GRUB: Full disclosure, I have not had the pizza. And I'll tell you why. The first time I went, I was really craving barbecue. Since I've gone back, I've been so excited to eat those delicious meats again that I've never even thought to order a pizza. That's how good the meats are.

The first time I went, a friend and I split the Barbecue Flight, which featured a quarter rack of ribs, brisket pulled pork, slices of white bread and a side (we chose mac & cheese) all served on an industrial baking tray with parchment. 

I do have a picture of the platter we got, but I was trying to take it sneakily and the flash went off and I panicked and it was blurry, so just enjoy this more staged version and laugh and my shame. Photo Credit: Smylie's website

Now, let me preface by saying I'm not a big fan of brisket or ribs due to the potential fattiness and messiness, but I would eat both of these forever from Smylie. The ribs were tender and smokey, and the meat fell right off the bone. The brisket was lean and flavorful without being dry. And obviously, the pulled pork is out of this world. I have absolutely no complaints about any part of it, other than I wish I would've had room for twice as much.

Also, can we just... can we just talk about the mac & cheese? My lord. My heart. The cheese is sharp and smooth, the perfect consistency to stick to the noodles without getting that weird, solid-brick-of-noodles-and-cheese thing going. The shell style noodles are the perfect vessel to hold the creamy sauce. The whole dish is topped with a panko-parmesan crust that adds delicious texture and flavor to this already perfect side.

Look. Look at that delicious art. Photo Credit: My shitty iPhone

And THEN? AND THEN?! Getting to wash down all this deliciousness with a well-balanced, flavorful beer? COME ON. WHAT A GREAT DAY. I've had an IPA, a red ale and a farmhouse at Smylie and they were all delicious. 

FUN SHIT: YOU CAN GET BARBECUE. BY THE FLIGHT. AND you can get pizza AND BBQ under the same roof! This place is genius. 

FEELINGS INGESTED: I ate all of my feelings and then texted my ex so I'd have even more feelings to ingest. 

OVERALL: 10/10 recommend. Who needs feelings when you can have BBQ?

Please note that I am in no way a qualified food critic. I'm picky and boring and really like cheeseburgers. Take my opinions with several grains of sea salt.

Eating My Feelings: Saint Lou's Assembly

Moving to Chicago has been one of the best decisions both my gut AND my stomach have ever made. Eating My Feelings is a series I plan on doing that highlights some of the delicious places I've tried while ignoring, basking/wallowing in, or celebrating my feelings by packing my face full of delicious calories.* Sure it's not healthy, but like a wise man once said, "I'm here for a good time, not a long time."

Drake. It was Drake.

Drake has certainly eaten his share of feelings. #rihanna #toosoon

The inaugural entry? My current favorite spot in the city: Saint Lou's Assembly.

SPOT: Saint Lou's Assembly is on Lake, under the pink and green line trains. If you're heading from the east, it's pretty unassuming. Just an old brick building with a yellow sign and a sandwich board. If you're coming from the west, however, it's a little less subtle as they've painted the four-story length of the building next door Big Bird yellow. It's dope, though. It's totally fitting of what Lou's is all about: Fuck you, we make good food and we don't need to impress you. 

Photo Credit: Dan Blackman & Clayton Hauck

The interior is a 50's-style diner with exposed brick and rows of booths and tables. There are touches of the past everywhere: old photos on the walls, retro arcade games, and an old-timey candy station. It's pretty dope. I will say, I've been here a handful of times now in all sorts of weather, and I've never seen a person sit inside. I'm beginning to wonder if the inside is just for show.

There's a cool indoor/outdoor patio space, too. The first time I visited it was the last warm day of the fall (apparently) and the patio was uncovered. Picnic tables and high tops were full of young professionals, and the fire pits were going. There's a full bar back there, with drinks being slung by a ginger-biker dude with a handlebar mustache/beard who definitely owns a Harley and has maybe done some hard time.

VIBES: This is a cool place. Could totally work as a second date spot or just a casual hang with friends. A lot of the staff are, you know, "uppity"... like maybe you've inconvenienced them by coming in, but you've just gotta power through the grump.

GRUB: Awwwwww yiiiissss. I tried the Foie & Biscuits as well as the Beef Tartare. And holy shit. They were both incredible. The foie (shitty photo below) was creamy AF. The biscuits were perfect. Fluffy. Sweet, but not too sweet. And with the apple preserves? Damn. What a beautiful balance. The sweet of the apple and the biscuit combined with the creamy, salty heaven that is foie gras? Dear Lord. 

Photo Credit: My shitty iPhone

The tartare was equally life-changing. Quality meat, delicious chimichurri flavors of garlic and onion and pepper. Jesus. And THEN... putting that delicious shit on tostones? Girl, I'll be honest, I didn't have the first clue as to what a tostone was. Turns out they're fried, smashed plantains. Twice. Shiiiiiit. So fucking good. The soft, salty flavor mixed with those meats. Ugh. UGH. 

FUN SHIT: There's a special on Wednesday that consists of four pieces of delicious looking fried chicken, two biscuits and a bottle of champagne for $39. Spoiler: That's a pretty good deal. And while I didn't order it due to my complete lack of friends, it did look/smell fucking delicious. Thursdays they do s'mores around the fire pits. Cute.

Money Gun is also attached to this little gem, which is a speakeasy cocktail bar. But that's for another time.

FEELINGS INGESTED: All of 'em. At least 12 hours of residual contentment. 

OVERALL: I could eat my feelings here for the rest of my life. Highly recommend that you do the same.

*It should be noted that I am in no way a qualified food critic. I'm picky and boring and really like cheeseburgers. So. Take my opinions with several grains of sea salt.