It turns out there are more than 50 food blogs associated with Chicago. Who knew? How do I know this? Because there is a list of the 50 best food blogs in Chicago, which means, I assume (though I may be wrong) that there are . . . more than 50? (If not, the 50th is the worst food blog in Chicago?)
Oh no, as I started this I was intending to look at some and then, one of the first things I saw pointed me to this list of Chicago food blogs. What have I started?
I give up. I write a blog and if I spend all my time reading blogs I will never write a thing. So, read CookingwithIdeas (which is only occasionally about Chicago, having started in the Finger Lakes), and look at the others if you feel like it (or are planning to eat in Chicago soon).
As you know, Duck Duck Goat has been reviewed on Cooking with Ideas, and we loved it. (Click here if you want to read the full review.) Recently, my partner was in town for surgery (all good) and we got into the land of ordering in. While i was dubious, we googled around and discovered that, indeed, Duck Duck Goat does deliver via the service Door Dash. So, even though we were not inclined to leave the condo, we could eat a wonderful meal from Stephanie Izard.
Alas, they do not deliver their full menu, so the option of revisiting items we ordered when there IRL was unavailable. So, we were forced to be a bit more inventive in our ordering. This is most definitely not a bad thing when it comes to Duck Duck Goat. No, we could not have the slap noodles with beef that we so loved (and that seemed like an ideal comfort food). Yes, we could explore a bit more -- and that is what we did. (I should note that the delivery menu is not identical to the take out menu -- and that is important to know as the variety is wider in the delivery menu.)
So: we had the following dishes:
Pork Fried Rice of some sort with red rice and (I think ) jasmine rice gets an A. The combination of rices makes it very tasty.
Scallion Pancake wrapped around Marinated Beef: this also has a better name but this is descriptive. I have no idea what I expected, but this came cut into two pieces and was kind of like a wrap. It was amazing -- the beef both tender and easy, marinated in something indescribable, and the crunchy cucumbers and other veggies made this worth the mess. The scallion pancakes were just the right thickness and, frankly, it was the first time I could have told you there were scallions in scallion pancakes. Absolutely would order again.
House Fermented Vegetables came in a tiny little plastic cup and included cauliflower, peppers and who knows what else. Definitely sour and sweet and hot, all squashed into a tiny little bit of veggies. A condiment really, and worth it. $2.
Mango Coconut Parfait was ordered because we loved a mango coconut dessert we had at the restaurant itself. This too came in a tiny plastic cup -- and was delightful. It was different from the in house version, which has cloud in its name -- and is in fact lighter despite having some cake in it. I ought to have ordered two of these. $4.
There are no minor quibbles here with Duck Duck Goat with the exception that we love those containers one always links up to chinese food in one's imagination and only the fried rice came in such a container. Oh well, at least one! Plus we got another of the lovely brown paper bags with two ducks and a goat stamped on. . . The total cost was about $36.
What about the delivery service? Door Dash was both efficient (speedy), inexpensive (delivery was FREE), and good humored when they had a moment difficulty finding me. I would suggest they inquire how much one wants in the way of utensils etc (our order came with one set, and there were two of us eating). And, I wish their app was just a little more clear about what is and is not available because the categories are overlapping and -- if you do not look at all the categories you will not know how varied the offerings are. In this case, the faves and the dinner options are not identical and . . . Otherwise, I give the delivery service and, more importantly, the person who did the delivery kudos for helping with comfort food when comfort was needed.
For a variety of professional reasons, I have been to Naperville a time or two recently. And, I have discovered a terrific place to hide (there goes that possibility?) and have a (vietnamese) coffee and lunch. Where? A place called Green Basil Restaurant, at 43 East Jefferson Avenue in . . . Naperville. I stumbled into it some time ago, perhaps even last summer when it was truly warm outside, and . . . it is a place I like and will return to when I can.
The ambience is sort of nothing -- plastic chairs and pretend wood tables. The parking is just a tad irritating -- because of some oddly placed one way signs in the parking lot, but I have always been successful parking on the street. The service is . . . very good as there were few if any others there when I have been there. The servers seem well informed and are kind.
But, what about the food? The food -- the food is definitely something to write home about. Each time I have dropped in, the food has been quite good. Memorable even. The coffee was too. Hmmm. Yes, this is a positive review.
What did I eat? The first time I went there, hot and bedraggled, I was incredibly hungry but not wanting to stuff myself as I was off to a meeting shortly where. . . food would be provided. So, I asked for a suggestion and got what was pointed out to me as a good option. Every time I have been there, I have had that same thing == a sort of steak salad, with thinly sliced (filet?) beef surrounded with (dare I say tossed with) herbs (cilantro, mint, basil), tomatoes, perhaps some chili slices, and a "sauce" which includes fish sauce and more. Just the right combination of hot, spicy and minty. It tastes like I imagine Vietnamese food ought to taste. And, that first server was completely right - it provides just the right amount of protein for a quick light lunch. In fact, I liked it so much that I have been trying to re-create it with left over steak and have discovered it is best when it is a little bit hotter than what Green Basil serves. (Yes to bird's eye or thai chilis.) The mint is the critical part of the herb mixture as the whole thing goes lackluster if you skip the mint. How do I know this? It is rare for me to try to re-create a meal just because I like it -- but as I said, I have been trying to re-create it. All of which is to say yes, this is in fact a very positive review.
I have also had a version of a spring roll at Green Basil, but cannot figure out which one by looking on line at their menu! Same thing with a soup one day. Both were light and flavorful. The sauce with the spring roll was particularly amazing. So, those too get a thumbs up.
As noted, one of the reasons I am a repeat visitors Green Basil is their (iced) Vietnamese coffee with condensed milk. Their version is right at the intersection of coffee and sweet, and thick in a way that screams "mouthfeel." In its genre, not the absolutely best iced vietnamese coffee I have ever had, but pretty darn close.
All in all, Naperville gets a hurrah for this (apparently newish) little gem.
So, I have pretended to live in Chicago for almost 5 years. I have worked here, snoozed in a bed in a condo here, and worked here. Did I say I worked here?
What I have not done is go urban in some ways, until quite recently. By that I mean: I have not ordered in until recently. Yes, I have known that some of those bike people are delivering food. I have heard of GrubHub and other apps and companies that. . . deliver. But, it was to until a very desperate night some time ago (I cannot quite bring myself to confess), that I discovered Seamless and the ease of ordering in.
So: I have ordered in. Multiple times. It is not good in some ways as it feeds the gremlin that does not ever want to get out of pajamas or otherwise leave this condo or my sofa. On the other hand, it does serve to push away the other gremlin of not eating. Ordering in is both a delightful indulgence and. . . something other or not quite as nice as it seems.
For me, ordering in seems to be a bit of a repetitive thing. Once I ordered from China town. And, then, I got on a Thai kick and basically that is what I do now. So: I will review the various places from which I have ordered . . . and you must indulge me as I do.
First I ordered from Lao Szechuan, which is part of a group of restaurants in Chicago and, in this case, is located in Chinatown, which is a bit south of where I currently am typing. I ordered a few things, most crucially something I have had before -- (a) chicken with a zillion peppers in it (which I am sure has a better name); and (b) sit fried green beans. Both were quite good -- and I have to admit I have never in my life seen so many peppers in a dish in my life. The delivery was on time, tasty and lasted a few days. Okay, I am having a moment of doubt about whether I ordered this directly from the restaurant (possible) or through the service described below.)
Then, I switched to Thai. Here, I was stumped. I had discovered Seamless, and yet I did not recognize most of the restaurants. So, I chose an ethnic cuisine, and then jumped off a cliff in the direction of a best guess. So far I have ordered from two thai places, and I have a definite preference. In fact, one place: never again. The other place: I have already enjoyed multiple times. But wait. That might not be quite true.
Bang Chop Thai Kitchen is the first place I tried. I ordered pad thai, and then with it got various hotter things each time. And, I got a thai coffee (or once I got two). My overall assessment is: the pad thai is much much better than from Opart Thai as is the thai coffee. And, basically nothing else is memorable. I ordered a ground chicken item once which I actually tossed. But: if I order pad thai again, it will be from here. And that is despite the fact that on occasion their lime wedges are dryish. As a side note, when I was looking for the link included at the start of this paragraph, I think I discovered this place is run by the Saigon Sisters. Hmmmm. Even I know that is a good thing. But, that is not why I chose them the first time I ordered from them. I was just looking for a thai coffee with condensed milk. (Not that I should have those at night.)
Opart Thai is a place that is in my head because I have gone past it repeatedly. I ordered just the other night from there. The pad thai was not acceptable. On the other hand, a green curry that I got (medium) was terrific, if just a tiny bit sweet. It had green beans, broccoli, those little corn cobs, carrots, thai eggplant, and snow pea pods. (Not to mention the chicken I chose as a protein.) I would order this again, though I would not order the pad thai or coffee from Opart.
Minor issues: I think that the packaging is a bit weird. If you are selling iced coffees (with ice in them), why choose to do so in a way that requires you to wrap the cups with saran wrap? There must be another way, even when the food and drink are being delivered by bicycle courier (which is how mine got to the apartment I think).
As for Seamless, it is easy, and the only annoying part is that I always say "no need to send plastic forks and napkins" which they give as an option. And, every single time I have ordered through their service I end up with napkins and plastic forks. Go figure.
They are pretty reasonable in terms of speed of delivery (and accuracy in predicting delivery time). Also, the texting to you is just a little silly, which is helpful when I am cranky and awaiting food, and when I order out I am either wildly depressed or just so tired I cannot. . . so, a bit of silly goes a long way.
The other night, I had a thought -- and here it is in all its glory: I must be feeling better. What makes me think that? Well, I am still cranky and unpleasant to be around, and tired and etc. but -- and it is a big but -- i am noticing food related things everywhere. You can tell that by the binge blogging, perhaps.
Today, I am writing because I was reading a wonderful collection of the poetry of Rita Dove, who will be in Chicago in June, and discovered a lot of references to food. I was thrilled. The food references situated the poems, both in daily life and in particular (sub)cultures and regions of the world. They pointed to politics and to intellectual life, to history and to the future. Food, it seemed as I read, was and is everywhere -- even in the poetry of the second African American Poet Laureate of the US.
Here are a few from Rita Dove that will have to stand for all I mean here today:
Chocolate is, perhaps an obvious ones to include here.
On the other hand, a poem entitled Adolescene II might not be so obvious (but yes, you will find food-related reflections here). Licorice?
The interweaving of life cycle, political change, and food is astonishing -- and the ways the daily quality of food moves us through a life filled with both oppression and joy and . . .
I have written about The Last Chinese Chef before. In fact, you can click right here to see what I thought about it the first time around. It was 2009, and I cannot really remember a thing about that year. Oh, I know, if I thought hard I might be able to. I could look at my cv or I could try hard to trace my steps by searching through emails or . . . .
I do not want to. And, I am not re-reading the review itself. You can -- if you choose to.
The point is that I did re-read Nicole Mones' book The Last Chinese Chef. I read it over a few days which means, I think, that I both liked it and did not want to leave the wonderful world that the author created. The novel brings together an American widow and a complicated American ex pat in China. Each has a professional relationship to food -- on the one hand, a widow (I assume white but I may be wrong) whose profession has been writing for a magazine about American food and, on the other hand, a first generation Chinese American chef, who has "returned" to China to learn to cook. Both are entangled with their pasts -- the widow with her husband's death (and SPOILER ALERT) possible infidelity and the chef with his father's refusal to return to the China of his oppression and with his lineage as a grandchild of a great Chinese (imperial) chef. In building their relationship, there is a sense that each comes to terms with mourning and loss, with the making of something new out of something old, and much more. In reading the book -- perhaps in re-reading the book -- the ways history, the present, and an imagined future are entwined capture the heart.
Mines' descriptions of the ways food is both cultural and bodily are impressive. And, the careful distinguishing between Chinese American food and . . Chinese foods of various regions and goals -- is also impressive. But, perhaps, the most crucial thing is the way the book requires you to immerse yourself and listen -- or, and again I hesitate, to both feel and think one's way into the novel.
I am tempted to reflect a bit on re-reading as a thing. I have been doing a lot of it lately. It is, often, an academic skill -- re-reading works one finds influential, defining classics as works we read and re-read, and thinking through them in new and challenging ways each time. These days, I am re-reading some of the academic works that I care about. But, I am also re-reading works that I would characterize as literature (The Last Chinese Chef is most definitely literature) and formula fiction. It is interesting how often I discover that I have no memory of the first time I read the book -- and as interesting when I can actually recall the words, the plot, the characters and more. I do not quite know what it means to re-read, but I do recommend it.
Mones is well known for her earlier book Lost in Translation, and the film made from it. I have neither read that novel nor (I think) seen the film. I have no interest in doing so. I do think, though, I might go out and find her newer (2015) book Night in Shanghai which is apparently about African American jazz in Shanghai and the "winds of war." If she can make the music sing the way she made me feel like I was encountering food (and much much more) in The Last Chinese Chef, I will be happy.
I rarely add new categories to this blog, but have just done so. So: watch for entries focused on ORDERING IN (DELIVERY) -- you will find a variety of them in the coming weeks and months. And thanks to 123rf.com for the image, which has nothing to do with this entry except for the word watch -- and this is all about entries to watch out for!
I thought I was done with food shows on television, except for a brief binging stop at an apparently well-known but unknown to me British baking show some time ago. In fact, I thought I might be kind of done with food. And, reading has become a challenge as well. I am not sure what any of this means. But it is part of why the blog went by the wayside for a longer than acceptable time.
In any case, turns out I am not utterly done. How do I know? I re-started this blog and, more importantly perhaps, my partner (who inspired this blog) was in Chicago for surgery and we binge watched. . . Chef's Table. What is Chef's Table? It is a documentary series on Netflix now in its third (or fourth depending if you count the French mini-series) season. How I managed to miss this entirely until now is a tiny bit baffling. Or not.
But now: I have seen the entirety, lying in bed, in a dark room in Chicago.
As a result, the many episodes have turned into a kind of nourishing mush in my head. I watched way too many in one day (or was it two?). We just finished yesterday though you may be reading this a month later. Anyway, with this preface, here are some reflections, starting with overviews and then moving to a miscellany of details.
First: I have a sense of the fire -- in many episodes -- in which food is cooked. Digging holes and putting food in there with rocks. Grilling. Fire. Fire. Fire. And, not just because one of the commentators on one of the chefs is Bill Buford whose book Heat I loved. (In fact, I reviewed it here.) The visuals are there, in my head, repeating - flames and sparks.
Second: The documentaries are filled with music. The music seems, on occasion, stereotyped or at least weirdly predictable, but it still manages to successfully carry the visuals. By stereotyping, I may mean "all too often associated with this nationality." In any case, there is a sort of lift -- to the episodes and the series as a whole -- as a result of the music. It works to push narratives along, to situate stories, and more. At least one episode got an award for the music!
Third: Each documentary focuses on a single chef, with some commentary from others well known in the land of foodies -- usually a writer or two, but on occasion another chef or family member. There is a sort of arc to the films, addressing childhood, recipes, and what I read somewhere are moments of "epiphanies." Moreover, in the series itself there is a sort of theme of both novelty -- making something new -- and contact with tradition or continuity with history.
Fourth: There is a focus (both visual and otherwise) on the worlds of nature and of technology in the series. There is no either/or here, but always and in complex ways, both/and. A number of the chefs focus on nature -- the food chain -- and their role in it. There are scenes of walking through the world -- whether city or the middle of nowhere, whether field or beside rivers or streams, or in forests. The chef from Blue Hill, for example, Daniel Barber, is connected to nature through his emphasis on "product," though the foraging and farming (or gardening) theme seems to connect chef to producer in many instances. (Yes, I was thrilled to see Penn Yan, NY in the episode on Blue Hill!) While I do not think the theme of relations between nature and technology is deliberately highlighted, it is there. I might be wrong -- it might be intentional - I cannot tell. But: you see immersion heaters and spoons, wood stoves and high tech foam creation, amazing stoves and ranges and stainless steel, and wood. You see the outdoors -- Amazon and Patagonia, Sweden and Thailand, urban and rural, distances both near and far. You see green fields and trees, small flowers and desert, mountains and sea side coves and thundering waves. You see grain growing and fish being caught (and gutted). You see moose and cows and goats and . . . people. You see a chef place an insect on his tongue, and others tasting as they walk and as they cook. So many parts of the world are held up to be smelled, that though the series cannot convey smells directly, the viewer knows they are important in both nature and in food technologically manipulated whether through fire per se or liquid nitrogen. You see a lot, including the inside of a place called Crucial Detail, which designs various food related items for Grant Achatz of Alinea fame including a porthole infuser that we own.
Details matter - both to ambience and to the serving utensils and plates and . . . everything matters to what is clearly being defined not as eating only but as a full experience focused on (as some of the chefs say) memory and hope. I am not a detail person, and that is something that I found very interesting about this series.
Fifth: The word freedom seems to echo across episodes, and perhaps less resolutely, creativity. The search for a life's work, and for freedom to pursue it, seems to be at the heart of many of these tales. Freedom from the dominance of a parent who refuses to think of cooking as a vocation, freedom from the streets and gang life that defined the poverty of one's youth and childhood, freedom from the structures of French cooking or the definition of fine dining. freedom from parents who are cuisine defining chefs. Freedom from pain, loss and the strictures of education. Freedom, on more than one occasion, echoing in the politics of location and of class or nation. The word is the same (though often a translation into English of words in the many other languages these chefs speak) and yet the implications of its use in the US (in 2017 perhaps unlike 2016), Russia, Slovenia, Peru, France . . . differ perhaps. Individual freedom, political or governmental freedom, and more.
Discipline appears as well. And, it is somehow the tension between freedom and discipline that creates. . . these chefs or, at least, the narratives of these documentaries. There is both fear and fearlessness in all this.
Sixth: There are multiple restaurants from the US, including LA, Chicago, San Francisco and NYC (and the Hudson Valley). Including the mini-series on French places, there are multiple from France. Other places there are single restaurants. All seem to be in the top 50 in the world, and many have Michelin Stars. I assume that is how they were chosen?
Seventh: While there is one "chef of color" from the US, there is a chef from India (cooking in Thailand) and a Mexican chef at a Mexican restaurant, and several South Americans (Brazil and Peru). Does that count? There are, of course, many many POC in the background whether the Andeans one episode or the dishwashers in another. The husband of one French chef (Yam 'Tcha ?) is from Hong Kong (and is himself a wonder). What does it mean that I have to think about this so hard? Is it annoying or interesting that I differentiate between international and domestic POC. Hmmm. I am unsure. But the series pushes one to local and global in both ingredients and in much else, with chefs traveling to train and carrying back tastes that seem "new" in a new setting or a new combination.
Somewhere I saw that the creator of the series wanted to highlight women chefs. Yes, there are a number featured in the series, and yet the series feels . . . gendered in an unexpected (or trivially expected) way, with the women represented differently than the men. I am not sure if this is something I read into the series or if it is "really" there. There is a repeated use of the word macho in one of the seasons, and a resistance to that by some. And, there is a self consciousness about the caring perspective, the giving perspective, the focus on the diner, of some of the women. Hmmm.
Heterosexuality seems to be a main theme, with almost all having children -- though there is a French chef whose most meaningful relationship is clearly the restaurant itself and the chef at the San Francisco restaurant has a partner in life who is a woman. Perhaps the theme that is intended is the importance of partnerships and the family as an aspect of hearth.
I am not sure how the diversity of identities relates to the diversity of the chefs and their cuisines. Many are products of -- both through training and resistance -- the French training system, and they are clearly globally influenced as many travel an enormous amount. Hmmm. Global and local? Global or local?
Eighth: The series seems to emphasize the emotional value (or valence) of food and the ways chefs put their emotions and passions into their food. This is quite distinct from what I think was a prior emphasis upon technique. My partner seems to think this goes with the turn to affect as an academic topic, and new books on empathy and other emotions as part of history and culture. Hmmm.
Finally: The word I keep using about the series is: inspiring. My partner seems to be finding it a way of thinking through what she has not accomplished (this maybe a mis-reading of her), and I find it kind of hard in some ways because the relationships to people are also highlighted in the episodes, especially family. And, yet, I do find the series inspiring. I am not sure that I have accomplished in my life what I wanted, either personally or professionally, and I am a bit jealous of the drive that seems to have helped make these chefs. But, I also know that there have been times when I have leaped, and that leap has been important to me. One area where I was pushed to self reflection was by the chefs who work alongside their entire families, or their partners, in a business and in life.
So, enough for over-arching themes or my connecting the multiple episodes we saw. Enough wrestling with my own feelings and thoughts in public. What about some specifics.
First: We have only been to one of the restaurants led by a chef from the series, the aforementioned Grant Achatz of Alinea and Next, and the ignored here but equally amazing, Aviary. The episode on this Chicago (and world) landmark was kind of predictable in some ways -- perhaps because I already knew about his struggle with cancer, for example. But it was also fascinating to see the backdrop to the food we experienced the times (yes, more than once!) we went to Alinea, Aviary, and then to Next. I admit I was most taken with the moment when Achatz describes the idea of serving right on to the table, and the making of the table cloth which is a true dining cloth. The scenes in Chicago tugged a bit at my heart.
I am unsure whether the fact I have never been to the restaurants of other chefs made the series more inspiring than it might have been otherwise. Perhaps I cannot see the framing quite as much in those cases.
We also have been meaning to go to Blue Hill for some time, but have never made it there. Hmmm. What does that say? What does all this say about familiarity and novelty?
Second: (and yes, I have started re-numbering) I loved the episode on the Korean Buddhist monk/nun, Jeong Kwan, and not just because I discovered Eric Ripert is Buddhist. I loved the visuals and the challenge of balancing the desire for community with solitude, the sense that there is meaning in what one accomplishes, and the ways that outdoor and indoor, external and internal, are temple-like. No, I am not a buddhist, but just as I am not a poet but like to explore that land, I have explored (popular) buddhism on occasion through reading, podcasts, and documentaries. I am curious how this episode might appear next to a documentary I also liked on buddhism and food featuring Espe Brown (connected, as well, to the Tassajara bread book). And, I have been exploring some of Ripert's writings related to this episode, such as this one here.
One tension in the viewing of this one is the notion that it is "more" buddhist to clean up as one goes along, and the emphasis on not being attached. I am unsure about detachment as a practice and detachment as a form of depression or closing off. How this affects ones relationship to food seems to me a difficult topic to explore and worth thinking through. This makes me think about the ways egotism can be both a label to dismiss someone or some feeling -- and something one needs to gain if one is not allowed any authority or autonomy.
Having just written that, I also wonder how the episode on Nancy Silverton, with its emphasis on obsession . . . and bread . . . might appear beside Espe Brown on bread. And I think about how Silverton focused on obsession as a meaningful word to describe herself and how that might link to the passions and persistence in the face of enormous (un)likelihood of success. . . . Is obsession a good thing? In what context? And, is the pain that comes with it worth it? I admit I would like to go to Nancy Silverton's restaurants - for both the mozzarella and for the pizza. (And only now do I know one of her partners is Mario Batali, whose words in the episode were quite kind and open.)
My partner wants to travel -- and has traveled a lot compared to me, though not enough for her own desires. I thought about traveling to each restaurant as I watched the series. I imagine having been there. I am more the type to get stuck and stay, though I am always happy when I have the chance to explore new places with her. She is my inspiration to move forward. I think it might be tiring to be the inspiration rather than the inspired, though the chefs depicted here seem to be able to transcend that risk.
I should write more, my head says. I a stopping says my heart. Watch the series. See what you think/feel/become.
For a NY Times review of the series (in part), click here. And yes, I concur with the idea here, that the series, like much of what we encounter in the foodie landscape, is effective myth-making.
