Trottin' Chicago with a Full Stomach

Our first lunch in Chicago took us to a Colombian joint called La Brasa Roja, where we watched the lady behind the counter shovel charcoal into the rotisserie pit. It takes biceps to do the task, and we tasted the difference in the chicken and pork belly they served for under $10. The salty goodness of the chicken was very good with their arepa, or Colombian corn pancake (even though Salvadorian pupusas are so much better). We also ordered a bowl of broth peppered with chicken neck and liver, a soup known in Cuba to fortify men after a long night of drinking. The influence of neighboring countries was certainly prevalent. Their plantains, rice and beans were also very much Latin American even though the country is in South America.

The space looks like any small diner with Formica-topped tables and chairs. The waiters have a no-nonsense attitude: they take your order and serve your meal without unnecessary niceties. Sometimes, all you need is good, homey food before you’ve had a chance to fully wake up in the morning.

We decided to stop by Izumi Sushi to tie us over before dinner. Judging by the interior, it’s one of the trendy restaurants that started popping up on Randolph Street. Its exposed brick walls and lofty ceilings shout young and hip. But most restaurants that fall under those two adjectives usually can’t support their P.R. stunt with the food they offer.

Izumi does. The bluefin otoro was buttery and very satisfying. Their uni melted in our mouths. They also had flying fish roe in black, which I’ve never seen before. Their choices of seaweed salad served with soy were all tasty.

We also ordered a flight of sake and a glass of plum wine while we talked with the half-Thai, half-Swede restaurant manager at the bar. He paid attention to us the entire time we were there. Our water glasses were never empty and he made sure that the next course was ready before we finished our last.

Izumi may be trendy, but at least it’s smart.

We were an hour late for our dinner at Charlie Trotter’s because it started to snow, and cabs were hard to come by. The staff nonetheless was very accommodating and seated us with no problems when we finally arrived. They told us to sit down and relax while they served us the Alain Soutiran Blanc de Blancs-Grand Cru Brut.

After the amuses came, we were served the first of six courses from the Grand prix fixe menu: buttermilk poached poularde breast with pomegranate gastrique, served with frisee and cashew cheese. The pomegranate juice with the cashew in this dish made the chicken breast taste more than just white meat. Next came the scallop with a lone crab claw and an oyster—a memorable surprise for a seafood lover like me. What came next had Chef Trotter’s signature of combining ingredients that most people do not expect: Japanese hamachi and oxtail with black trumpet mushrooms and collard greens. I knew I had at least two more dishes to go, so I didn’t finish this dish, especially because the red wine-braised carrots made it heartier. The bison tenderloin came next, with veal cheeks and white truffles—a very decadent dish indeed. That course sealed the night for me. I was officially full.

Throughout our courses, we drank matching wines from a Selbach-Oster Riesling to an Ata Rangi Pinot Noir, a Robert Sinskey Merlot, a Rias Baixas, and a couple of ports that accompanied our desserts: quince sorbet and russet apple with ice cream.

Needless to say, we didn’t make the house music party we planned to attend after dinner, but after a relaxed and much focused evening at Charlie Trotter’s, who needs anything else?

One usually thinks brunch needs to consist of eggs but at Tre Kronor, we had a variety of Scandinavian dishes. The two-story café looks and feels like someone’s home, decorated with Swedish emblems and paintings. It’s so cozy that it feels like you’ve just been invited to eat with your own family.

I ordered the salmon quiche, which was deliciously flaky; it made the salmon-hater in me smile. The boy had the corned beef sandwich, from which I tried to steal a bite every time he put it down. A friend ordered the crab cakes, while I enjoyed a very hearty onion soup. We took home some of their Danish pastries, and they were to die for.

How I wish we had a brunch place in New York City as warm as Tre Kronor!

Visiting Chicago without eating hot dogs is like going to Las Vegas without gambling. It’s a necessary experience.

For an afternoon snack before our flight back, we decided to go to Hot Doug’s, a happy but small joint covered with kitschy wiener posters and memorabilia. The Doug in the name is owner Doug Sohn, who cheerily and efficiently takes your order from the counter.

Not only do they have the classic Chicago-style dog but they also have the Elvis (with Polish sausage) and the occasional game—I had the alligator dog with blue cheese. What else is there to write about? Order a “gourmet” hot dog at Hot Doug’s with duck fat fries and a tall glass of Coke, and you won't regret it.

A short review for a quick bite.