TNDC: Zed451

Alyssa is 2-0 as far as great picks for the TNDC. After hitting a home run with Province, she followed up with Zed451, 739 N. Clark. Amy was at her scuba diving lesson class (stupid jerk is going to Australia), and I believe Neha was sick.

Now I have to admit, I wasn’t too excited about Zed. It’s a Brazilian steakhouse, and my only other experience at that type of restaurant was in Vegas and I was not a fan. However, I wanted to try one again just to be sure it wasn’t that particular restaurant (Samba Brazilian Steakhouse at the Mirage Hotel).

Zed offers three options. You can do the “Zed Experience,” which allows you full access to their salad bar (I’ll get to that) and all-you-can-eat meat. Or you can do the “Harvest Table,” which is just the salad bar, or you can order ala Carte.

The Zed experience is pricy, $48 per person. We all said we’d be down with that on a Friday or Saturday night but it wasn’t sitting well with us on a Tuesday. So the three of us decided to do the Harvest Table. I was a little nervous I wouldn’t be full but boy was I wrong.

Zed had four separate tables filled with different salads, soups; breads, cheeses, cured meats, fruit, etc. For the salads, there was a traditional wedge salad, but also a fresh seafood salad with tuna, shrimp, avocado and mango in a vinaigrette; an heirloom tomato salad with fresh mozzarella; watermelon salad; octopus salad; etc. etc. etc. There were probably 20 different kinds.

Then came the bread, meat and cheese table: prosciutto, chorizo, salami-ish meats, various types of cubed cheese (including the Best Cheese in the World, which was some type of cheese with rosemary. As I have not eaten every cheese in the world, I could not back this statement up. It was tasty though).

If you’ve never been to a buffet or an all-you-can-drink with me, I can get a little out of control. I basically turn into a Depression-era hoarder, convinced the food or drink will go away unless I eat it all that very second. While Meghan and Alyssa had neat, separate piles of food on their plates, mine was filled to the brim. I went up three times, with the last plate being my “all star plate” with my favorites.

I would highly recommend going to Zed for their Harvest Table. It’s $24 per person and I left completely stuffed.

Meat and cheese table

Their cocktails are also very yummy. I ordered a kiwi strawberry martini, which was made from the crushed fresh fruit. Outstanding. They also had a watermelon mint mojito I am interested to try someday.

The décor and design of the restaurant reminds me of being in a bar in the middle of the Brazilian rainforest. Especially the bar area, which has wood seats and tree trunks for tables and greenery. I believe Zed also has a rooftop but since going up there would only bring us closer to the sun, we stayed inside.

The bad part about Zed is their service is shady. Again, I waited in the bar area for at least 10 minutes before I had to go up to the bar and order a drink. I can’t decide if I just don’t look like I should be served or if we just get to these places so early that their wait staff is just getting started.

But that’s not even the shadiest part. When we sat at the table, the only thing in front of us was a drink menu. Our waitress came over and explained how the restaurant worked but neglected to mention any option except the Zed Experience (the most expensive option). Luckily, we had all gone on the website prior to dinner and knew you could do just the salad bar or order off the menu. We had to bring this up to her and only after the second mention did she offer us a menu.

But now YOU know.

P.S.-Alyssa is 30 now so her choices from here on out may be on the sophisticated side. I’m still 29.

TNDC: Girl & the Goat

What a wonderful dining experience. Hands-down the best dinner club we’ve ever had, and one of the best restaurants I’ve ever been to. We made the reservations at Girl & the Goat, 800 W. Randolph, two months ago. I was worried the buildup would only reveal a letdown, but trust me, it was worth the wait.

If you’re a person who doesn’t like to try new things or gets hung up on what you’re eating or the combination of the foods you’re eating, this place probably isn’t for you. I encourage you to try it, but if your brain can’t come in with a blank slate and just let your taste buds take over, it’s not worth it.

Some background: Girl & the Goat is THE hot restaurant in Chicago right now. It takes about two months to get a reservation during the week, and I have no idea how long on a weekend. I just did an experiment and tried to make a 7 p.m. Saturday night reservation about a month out. The times Opentable.com gives me are in mid-August at 4:30 p.m. on a Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday.

The chef is Stephanie Izard, who won “Top Chef.” Food & Wine magazine named her one of the best new chefs, and she’s been featured on a number of other top 10 lists for her culinary skills and the restaurant. She really is the toast of the town right now.

Let me start by saying the service was fantastic. The staff does not treat you like you should feel lucky to be dining at the hottest restaurant in town (SCREW YOU PURPLE PIG!) Amy, Neha, Meg and I arrived a little earlier than Alyssa, so we got a drink at the bar while we waited. The bar was PACKED with walk-in diners who couldn’t get a regular table, but the bartender spotted me right away and handed me a drink menu. I assume my super cuteness also had something to do with this J

Our waitress was great-very knowledgeable about the food, gave us a guide for how many dishes we should order (Girl & the Goat does small plates) and offered us the opportunity to meet Stephanie Izard after we were finished eating.

Here’s what we ordered and my impressions of the food:

-Empanadas with goat. Good, but not great.

-Sautéed green beans with fish sauce vinaigrette and cashews. Delicious. Meghan said, “I don’t even like green beans and those are good.”

-Chickpea fritters. I didn’t think I would like these, but they were great. They had romesco, hazlenut hummus, sesame and goat feta. Kind of like deep-fried fritters.

-Grilled baby octopus with wax beans, radish, favas and pistachio-lemon vinaigrette. This was more like an octopus salad. Not bad but probably my least favorite dish of the evening.

-Ham frites with smoked tomato aioli and cheddar beer sauce. These were French fries with some sort of ham/bacon awesomeness drizzled or salted on them. Best fries I’ve ever had.

-Goat chorizo flatbread with ramp pesto, rhubarb and fresh ricotta. Fantastic.

-Sugo, which was linguini, rosemary and cape gooseberries. Not a huge fan. I think the rosemary threw me off.

-Grilled hanger steak with grilled maitakes, sugar snaps, miso-marcona almond and green almond nuoc cham. I don’t know what half of that stuff is, but the steak was marvelous. Thinly sliced, medium rare and over some sort of goodness sauce. Yum.

-Wood oven-roasted pig face with a sunny side egg, tamarind, cilantro and potato stix. I know what you’re thinking: EW. Not in the least. Hands-down my favorite dish of the night. No, it did not look like I was eating an actual face. It looked like two meat patties with an egg on top (see picture). The server brought it over and told us to “Eat it like we are annihilating it. Mix it all together, cut it up and then eat it so you get all the flavors.” AWESOME. It was sweet tasting, like it was cooked in brown sugar or something. If you ever go to this restaurant, wipe your brain of any pig face fears and order this.

Dessert:

-Rhubarb and lemons with shortcake, buttermilk panna cotta, lemon gelato and salted graham cracker. This came in a mason jar and was really delicious.

-Ganache pork fat doughnuts, yuzu blackberries, salted oat streusel and malted vanilla gelato. My least favorite of the desserts only because it mixed fruit and chocolate and that’s not really my gig.

-Bittersweet chocolate with shiitake gelato and toffee crème fraiche. This was a brownie with mushroom ice cream. Sounds freakin’ weird right? AMAZING. Our server told us sometimes the mushroom ice cream was a little funky, depending on how many mushrooms were in there. I did not eat the ice cream on its own but some of the other girls did and said you could definitely taste mushrooms. I chose to eat it with the chocolate brownie and the other stuff and was not disappointed. Another dish you MUST order if you go there.

One of the best parts of the meal was when we got the bill. After our experience at Sunda last time, I was expecting another pricey meal. It was only $37 a person! We were delighted!

I left in a flash to catch the 7:40 p.m. train, so I did not get to meet Stephanie Izard after dinner (see picture). I’m very jealous but also can’t regret my decision since if I would have not made that train, I would have been on the 8:40 p.m. train, which was delayed an hour because of the storms. If I would have tried for the 9:40 p.m. train, that would have sucked because it was canceled.

I hope after reading this you are ready to make a reservation at this place. I cannot recommend it highly enough.

TNDC: Sunda

Every time I read the Chicago Tribune’s About Last Night blog or US Weekly, it seems as if some celebrity ate at Sunda. For the past year or so, Sunda has been on the tips of anybody who’s anybody’s tongue as one of the new hot restaurants in Chicago.

It’s owned by Billy Dec, who also owns Rockit and The Underground and is a celeb magnet. So popular that he supposedly dated Jen from The Bachelorette.

Naturally, the TNDC was curious. Neha was finally able to make a dinner, and this was her pick. Alyssa was wining and dining her husband in honor of his birthday, so she was not in attendance.

The Trib named Sunda, 110 W. Illinois, one of its top 10 celebrity hangout spots in 2010. The cast of “Glee” ate there last week after their concert at the Allstate Arena. The Tribune also lists the following celebs as frequenters: Miami Heat’s LeBron James, New York Yankees’ Derek Jeter and San Francisco 49ers legend Joe Montana, actors Vince Vaughn, John Cusack, Colin Farrell, Jeremy Piven, Channing Tatum, Josh Duhamel, Jared Leto, Leighton Meester, Jason Statham, Patrick Dempsey, David Schwimmer, Kate Walsh, Lea Michele and Cory Monteith, singers Fergie and Kesha, rapper Common, rock bands Green Day and Soundgarden, the Bears’ Jay Cutler, the Blackhawks’ Patrick Kane and reality TV star Nicole Richie.

On this particular day, it was about 95 degrees in the city. A sweltering, rainforest-like heat wave had blanketed Chicagoland and it proved quite uncomfortable and sticky.

Neha and I decided to cool off at Rockit, 22 W. Hubbard, which ended up being an unfortunate experience. I got there first and was told even though the rest of the restaurant was empty I could only sit in the bar area, which was filled with tall, two-seater tables. We had three, but I did not argue (the heat must have really gotten to me). I waited about five minutes and did not receive any type of drink menu. Then Neha arrived, aghast at the seating arrangements. She asked the hostess if we could sit at a larger table, and she said we should just pull up another chair if we had a third. Grrr. Again, no drink menu. Nobody came over. So we left.

We headed over to Hub 51, 51 W. Hubbard, where a similar experience ensued. Nobody came over! We really began to wonder whether we stank. So we had to walk up to the bar and order our drinks. Tres annoying.

Meghan joined us and the three of us determined we were STARVING so we headed over to Sunda early to order an appetizer while we waited for Amy. We decided on two orders of the Sticky-Icky Rice, which is steamed sweet rice with chicken, mushrooms, water chestnuts and chives wrapped in lotus leaves. It came out in covered bamboo containers, and you unwrapped the lotus leaves to find a thick patty of rice underneath. It looked weird. And once you cut it open, it still looked weird with little chicken bits inside. But it was soooo good. Rice was perfect amount of stickiness, and if you dipped it into the soy sauce, mmmmm. I don’t really have any sophisticated adjectives to describe this dish, it was just freakin’ good.

Amy only eats “fake” sushi, which apparently also includes tempura style sushi so she ordered two rolls. Meghan ordered the “Shaking” Beef, which was “wok-seared beef filet, greens and lime-pepper dipping sauce. She described it as “shish-kabob-style beef” and seemed to enjoy it.

Neha and I decided to split four sushi rolls so we got a rainbow roll, a spicy tuna roll, a hand roll with crab, shrimp tempura, salmon, and spicy tuna and the stuffed avocado, what we thought was a roll. The food came out on four plates and Ne looked at me and said “Kel, what did we order?” The rainbow roll and the spicy tuna roll were standard sushi. The hand roll looked like a wrap, cut in half. The stuffed avocado was not, in fact, a roll but it really was an avocado, stuffed with tuna. It. Was. Delish. The tuna was diced and shaved into little pieces and stuffed inside a perfectly ripe avacado. I highly recommend. The hand roll was OK-Neha liked it better than I did. The other rolls were good too. But given the price of the meal (mine and Neha’s bill was $72 each), I should have been stuffed to the brim and wanting to sleep with the owner for the deliciousness. We felt like we could get just as good of sushi at a cheaper restaurant (South Coast-what what!)

We each graded the meal. Meghan was the most generous with an A-. I believe Amy gave it a B+ and Neha and I decided that while our meal was good, the price to goodness ratio warranted a flat B.

I think Sunda is a great place to have a drink and some appetizers with friends. But if you’re looking for sushi, I can recommend a number of other places with just as good if not better sushi for a better price.

And no, we did not see any celebrities. I looked.

Run for the Reaper

Last year I said I wanted to run a 10K before I turned 30. Well folks, the Grim Reaper appears to be edging closer so I figured it was time to get on it. I am officially signed up for the Huntley Youth Sports Organization Run for the Sun on June 12.

I started running 5K races last year and really enjoy it. I love the camaraderie of my fellow runners, the adrenaline I get in a race environment and the goodie bag swag. But I really never thought I’d be able to get over the 4-mile hump. That’s the most I had run on my own and a 10K did not seem within my reach.

A couple weeks ago, I decided I wanted to try taking it up a notch. I ended up running 4.67 miles, and I was very proud of myself. After that accomplishment, I figured another 1.5 miles was doable.

Before I signed up, I wanted to make sure I could clear more than 5 miles. If I didn’t die at the end of it, I was going to devote my sweat to a 10K. So my friend and I took off on a gloomy Saturday and did 5.5 miles. And we didn’t die.

So there you have it. Come June 12, I won’t be driving to Huntley for the outlet mall but to torture myself by running 6.2 miles. At least I’ll have my home girls Adrienne and Erin to commiserate with.

TNDC: Currents on the River

Maybe the chef was out of town. Maybe, like the menu billed, he was cooking dinner for Van Halen or Madonna. Regardless, whoever was in the kitchen made crappy food.

TNDC was Meghan’s pick this week, and she chose Currents on the River, at Adams and Wacker. We thought it a lovely choice given a possible opportunity to sit outside on the river, the menu looked great online and you can’t beat the atmosphere. All wrong.

Prior to our arrival, we discovered the restaurant closed at 7 p.m. Very odd. But we were fine with it because I like to catch the earlier train the better, and Alyssa was leaving for a conference in the morning so she wanted to get home to pack. Neha was traveling again (South Carolina), and Amy was at the Cubs game, so it was just me, Meggie and Al.

Meghan and I met there for our obligatory cocktail, and the restaurant looked like a Holiday Inn lounge. Pretty pitiful décor, green carpet, standard-issue chairs. The restaurant was in the basement of an office building so we were eye-level with the river. No outside patio. But basically we were face-to-face with one of the boat tour boats, which apparently launched from the restaurant. And that’s when we realized we were possibly frequenting a tourist trap.

Al showed up around 5:30 p.m., and the bartender told us to sit anywhere. The restaurant was empty except for a going away party in the back so we took a table by the window so we could look at the river. About seven or eight minutes went by before anyone came over with menus or water. It wasn’t until Alyssa called the waiter over that he acknowledged us.

The front of the menu says the chef used to be the personal chef for Van Halen, The Eagles, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Rolling Stones, Janet Jackson and Madonna. So regardless of the sub-par atmosphere, we were looking forward to some good food.

Alyssa had eaten a late lunch so she just ordered a chopped salad. Didn’t hear any complaints there. Meghan ordered the Tuscan tortellini, which had grilled chicken, Italian sausage, roasted garlic, parmesan and a chicken veloute sauce. No immediate complaints or accolades awarded. I ordered a steak sandwich and made my opinion well known. The steak was cold. Not cold like it was supposed to be served cold. It was cold like it had been sitting there for awhile cold. It was supposed to have a mango chutney sauce on it and it seemed more like mango marmalade. So picture a steak sandwich with jelly on top. And nothing else. No tomato, lettuce, onion, cheese. It was nasty. Below is a picture of what I thought mango chutney looked like.

Post-nastiness occurred last night with Meghan, who was sick from her meal. “Epic restaurant fail,” she reported this morning.

Don’t go here. Even if you do the architectural tour on the river (which I highly recommend) find another restaurant.

She works hard for her money

I have unfortunately, unwillingly and disgustingly become someone who makes small talk at my office. Hi my name is Kelly, and I can be found in the elevator, kitchen or hallway discussing the weather or how it’s not Friday yet.

I realize this is part of working in corporate America, but I HATE it. I hate hate hate small talk. It’s mostly why I hate first dates. But at least on a first date you’re moving toward a smooch or something. In the office, that kind of talk moves toward nothing.

But I don’t know what to do about it! This is the first place I’ve worked where I don’t have a bestie. In Fort Wayne I always had at least seven people I could take a break with or have a real conversation with. Here, I’m by myself. Which, I’m fine with. I have a lot of friends outside of work here so it’s not as necessary for me to glom on to everybody and force them to be my friend, as has been the case in other cities I’ve lived. But the downside of that is I don’t know many people well enough to make anything deeper than small talk.

And I’m a journalist. There’s the expectation that every person will divulge the most personal details of their lives upon first meeting me.

The weather seems to be the number one topic here. Especially in Chicago. Where we are NEVER happy about the weather. Ever.

Every winter we are shocked, FLOORED that it’s cold out. And our hearts nearly stop when snow falls. And then spring comes and it rains. And we HATE rain. But then we pray for warmer weather and then it gets hot and we bitch and bitch and bitch about how hot it is and won’t it just cool down? And then it cools down and the cycle starts again.

This leaves about four variations of the same conversation to be had about the weather. Stimulating.

People who work in offices are also shocked on a daily basis that it is not, in fact, Friday yet. And they express this with others to have some sort of commiseration club about how we’re stuck at work and “everybody’s workin’ for the weekend” and how “I don’t want to work, I just want to bang on de drum all day.”

Le sigh.

I’ll cap this off with the awkward walk down the hallway scenario. I’m always confused with when I should acknowledge there is someone else coming down the same hallway. We both see each other. But then it’s weird to keep walking and stare each other in the eyes until we get closer. So I try to look away until I get almost next to them and then do the casual “hi.” Is that proper etiquette? Am I weird for being weirded out by this whole gig.

For the record, it has been too cold this week and it is only Thursday.

TNDC: Karyn's on Green

Let’s just get it over with. I’m not vegan. I don’t want to be vegan. Being vegan is weird to me. I respect the choice of those who are vegan, but it’s clearly not for me. Especially after my experience last night.

TNDC was canceled last time because Meghan and Alyssa were sick, and Neha had Bulls tickets. So we carried Amy’s pick over to this time. She chose Karyn’s on Green, 130 S. Green St., in the West Loop. Everybody was there except Neha, who was jet setting back from a Montreal business trip.

I was excited to try Karyn’s because I had heard as far as vegan restaurants go, it was top notch It had fantastic reviews on Yelp, and the actress Angela Basset had recently ate at either Karyn’s Raw or Karyn’s Cooked. As you can see by those restaurants’ names, the food is either raw or cooked at either location.

Prior to the day of the dinner, I think my mind protected me from understanding what vegan meant. Maybe it knew I might protest. I was associating vegan with vegetarian. Which, it is, but to the max.

According to www.vegan.org, a vegan is someone who, for various reasons, chooses to avoid using or consuming animal products. While vegetarians choose not to use flesh foods, vegans also avoid dairy and eggs, as well as fur, leather, wool, down, and cosmetics or chemical products tested on animals.

I was perusing the menu that morning and saw items like chicken legs and sausage and broccolini pizza. Then I made a confused face. Chicken? I don’t get it. But there’s no meat. I took my qualm to Megalicious, who informed me it’s fake. Then things started to come together.

I looked at the menu again. Caesar salad wouldn’t be legit Caesar salad because there wouldn’t be any eggs in the dressing. That sausage on the pizza isn’t sausage! It should say crab cake with a K! What the hell is Portobello bacon?!

This seems like I’m being dramatic, but anybody who knows me knows I love me some meat. Steak, hamburgers, pork chops, chicken, etc. etc. etc. As one former boyfriend who reads this blog said, (and I’m paraphrasing) “I’ve never met a girl who eats more meat than you.” TWSS.

The restaurant is cute, very sleek-looking. Meghan and I were the first ones there when it opened at 5 p.m. We had to get our cocktail on. We stuck with the house red wine, which, at $6 a glass was pretty darn good. We were going to order the Treetini, but we weren’t positive it actually had alcohol in it. The ingredients were listed as VeeV Açaí Spirit, fresh cucumber, agave, mint, and fresh lime juice. Alyssa ended up ordering it at dinner and it’s apparently a margarita/mojito hybrid. And they plant a tree somewhere if you buy one. We were upset we couldn’t mandate where the tree would be planted.

I was glad to hear the rest of the dinner club was just as apprehensive as I was. We all kind of sat in our seats, shoulders scrunched, scanning and scanning the menu for something that jumped out at us. We started with an old faithful: something fried. As an appetizer, we ordered the crispy mixed basket, which had sesame tempura battered vegetables, and fries, with barbecue and Thai cocktail sauce. Aside from the white asparagus, or albino asparagus as we were calling it, it was all great. Especially the avocados.

My goal was to not eat fake meat, as I don’t accept the premise. Meghan and I both ordered the split pea risotto; Amy got the marinated Portobello steak; and Alyssa ate the crab cakes. My risotto was fine, but it was like a pea explosion. I was hoping there was something other than peas in it, but no dice. It was also quite salty. Amy’s “steak” was actually a heavily seasoned Portobello mushroom. I had a bite and while I really enjoy Portobello mushrooms, I didn’t like the seasonings. I didn’t try Al’s crab cakes, but I had a bite of the grilled Bok choi that came with it and it was meh.

That was the theme. Everything was fine but tasted slightly off. “That’s cause it was,” my coworker said when I recapped the meal. And everything was really salty, as if they were trying to compensate for no flavor.

We thought we might fare better with dessert so we split a piece of chocolate peanut butter pie. Disappointment again. And again, the pie was freakin’ salted. Weird.

Overall, it may be a delicious place for vegans to eat. But now I just want a hamburger.

TNDC: Mercadito

This week was my pick and I chose Mercadito, 108 W. Kinzie. A landmark known for their Mexican food and more commonly known among my friends as the place where Alyssa got kicked out for dancing. Apparently it’s like “Footloose” in their downstairs lounge.

Alyssa was willing to risk walking up to the hostess stand and seeing a picture of her face with a slash through it. Small club tonight, just me, Alyssa and Meghan. Neha is continuing her world travels in Spain and Amy was leaving for a conference in the morning.

Meghan and I decided to do our pre-cocktail hour at the restaurant. She had a bad day at work and went straight for the traditional margarita. I decided to be a little adventurous so I ordered the Smokey Pablo, which had cien anos reposdao (huh?), mango, chile morita and blueberry float. All that was code for a spicy mango margarita on the rocks with a taste of blueberry. I would have enjoyed it more without the blatant spices.

For our second drink, Meggie and I were intrigued by the michelada, which included a beer of your choice, lima, salsa inglesa and secrets. Yes, secrets. I assumed these were metaphorical secrets but the bartender informed us they, in fact, had a secret sauce. Apparently a michelada is a Mexican beer cocktail. They pour an ounce of Worcestershire and Tabasco sauce over beer. She gave us a taste of the “secrets” and it felt like I was drinking a steak. No thanks. I stuck with Corona Light.

Once we sat down, our waitress informed us their portions were pretty small and meant to be shared. So we each ordered a different type of taco: steak, pork and fish. We paired it with two sides of black beans and rice and fried plantains. Each of the tacos were really good but not out of this world. The pork was spicy and too much for little Megalicious. The fish were OK but I compare all my fish tacos to those at Paula’s in Fort Wayne and these didn’t hold a candle. The steak were also good but like I said, they were only a little better than the ones at Chipotle and double the price. Black beans and rice are hard to mess up but the plantains were very good. I’ll never argue with fried sweetness.

The problem with this sharing setup is they only gave you one itty bitty plate. So all your food is crowded on there and they don’t give you any larger or additional plates, weird.

The dessert menu was weird but Alyssa is obsessed with caramel so she ordered the flan. My only other experience with flan was at the Illinois Street Residence Hall dining hall at the University of Illinois, so I decided it was worth a second shot. Mistake. While the initial bite was good, all of a sudden the goat cheese alarm in my mouth went off. Again and again. I’m not sure how to make flan but I’d advise against adding goat cheese.

All in all, a good experience. I’d definitely go back to drink and risk a John Lithgow-style monologue about dancing.

Mystification of cashiers

Sometimes I am mystified when people are mystified by my simple questions or requests. Two such incidents occurred recently.

Stefanie had a $15 gift certificate to Sprinkles Cupcakes that she scored free from the hotel she works at, so we treated ourselves during a lunch break recently. We each ordered a cupcake (milk chocolate for me, Bailey's for her), and she ordered two to take home for her boyfriend. I also ordered some milk, which put us over the $15. I told Stef I would just pay her the difference. I held out a $5 and asked the girl working the cash register if she could give me change. She looked at me as if I asked her to stick the $5 up her butt, light the end on fire and eat a cupcake at the same time. The blank look ensued, and she finally asked her co-worker, "Do we have change?" The co-worker's eyes got HUGE at the thought of exchanging my $5 bill for five $1 bills. More awkwardness ensued as these two brainiacs tried to do the math on this. Finally, Stefanie told me to just pay the girl the difference with the $5, less worry about the change issue. Oy vey.

The second incident occurred today at Jimmy John's. In lieu of a traditional baby gift, I wanted to buy a friend of mine a gift card since she loves their sandwiches, and it could be used on a night she didn't feel like cooking. I also wanted to buy myself lunch. I ask the counter girl if they sold gift cards, since I didn't see them shoved down my throat like I do at every other establishment. Blank look.
"Um, I don't know. No. Yes."
"Can I buy one?"
Blank look.
Turns to co-worker. "Do we sell gift cards?"
"Yeah we do," he says, almost exasperated by the question.
She shrugs. "I'll let you handle this."

While he's trying to figure out the gift card machine, I decide to give Smarty Sally a separate task.
"I do want to order a sandwich."
"Oh great," she says, eyes perking up at a word she knows.

So another guy starts making my sandwich while the Gift Card Guru is still working on my request for a $15 card. Smarty Sally decides to ring me up.
"That'll be $7.01."
"With the gift card?"
Blank look, furrowed brow.
"How much was your gift card?"
"$15."
Furrowed brow.
Gift Card Guru is able to do the math: "$22.01."

Sigh.

Heaven on Seven

This blog seems to be turning into a restaurant review site. I don’t care-deal with it.

For everybody’s birthday in my department—there are six of us, all women—we bring in treats to have in the morning and find a day to take the person out to lunch. This week was our assistant Chrestine’s birthday, and she chose Heaven on Seven, 600 N. Michigan Ave., which is Louisiana-style food.

Being that it’s right off Michigan Avenue, I thought it would be a tourist trap. Which is code for chain food and expensive prices. But it turned out to be kind of a hidden treasure.

It’s pretty dimly lit inside and decorated Mardi Gras style, with purple, gold and green beads and masks everywhere. Kelly circa 2002 would have instinctively went to lift her shirt for the swag (I let some guy look down my shirt in college to win a Mardi Gras banner-for real) but professional Kelly circa 2011 seemed to be able to control herself. Or realize that a Mardi Gras banner with a Miller Lite logo is not great décor in a bedroom.

Heaven on Seven also has a wall with probably 1,000 different bottles of hot sauce on shelves. It was pretty incredible and overwhelming for someone who just grabs what’s available to put on my egg white omelette from the ADA café (The grill cook, Alberto, for realsies makes the best omelette I’ve ever had. Three egg whites, spinach, mushrooms, tomatoes and cheese, if you please).

For starters, they bring out a plate of sweet pickles to the table. I did not imbibe, as I only like regular guy pickles. I ordered gumbo soup and orzolaya, which is jambalaya with orzo pasta. My biggest issue with these dishes involved the sausage in both, which is hard to get around with this style of food.

The gumbo was great; not red as I’ve had it before but brown and with a scoop of white rice on top. Superb. The orzolaya was good, minus the sausage. It also had shrimp and chicken so I got my protein in, but I spent a lot of time navigating around the sausage.

Here comes the best part.

Whenever my department goes out for lunch, we let the birthday girl choose a dessert and we all split it. Being ladies who are conscious of our figures, we only want a couple bites as a taste. Chrestine chose peanut butter pie, and I could smooch her for it. It. Was. Fucking. Amazing. Best best best peanut butter pie I’ve ever had. Get up and go to this restaurant right now and order it. Do it.

The end.

TNDC: Province

I missed the second meeting of the Tuesday Night Dinner Club because I was still recovering from what I think was pneumonia. Five days of being in bed with a fever, coughing and not being able to breathe to the point of using an inhaler required a couple extra days of recovery. So I do not have a review for Gilt Bar, but the girls said it was “good but very buttery.” OK then.

Last night’s meeting was at Province, 161 N. Jefferson, as selected by Alyssa (see pic-I'm going to start posting pics of the restaurant selector).

She billed it as “American with a Latin flair and ‘green’ with local foods.”

Neha Blossom couldn’t make it because she had to be out in suburbia helping her company, BP, move or unpack or something. Her importance within BP is hindering my social life.

Amy, Meghan and I arrived at the restaurant around 5:15 p.m. and had our usual pre-meal cocktails. Our first impression was that we were in a spa. The music was very serene, and Meghan wondered out loud to the bartender when we would be receiving our massages.

After a taste of the house red wine, I determined that was better drank after at least one glass of a better tasting wine so I ordered a Malbec. Amy heeded her frugal instincts and stuck with the house red, while the Fabulous Megalicioius ordered a champagne cocktail. Alyssa showed up a little later and ordered a beer (probably something unique that nobody’s ever heard of as a nod to her husband).

We got our table and quickly realized we were the youngest people in the restaurant by 20 years. For those of us turning 30 this year—and who already are, Meg—this made us feel good. Not that we didn’t prove our youth by being the loudest table by many decibels (see serene music above).

On first glance, the menu was confusing. It was divided into topics like “bites,” “small,” “big,” and “bigger.” Some of the “big” and “bigger” items had two prices next to them. Was it tapas? Small plates? Full entrees? A tutorial from the waitress proved it was all. You could get small plates, half orders of the larger items, side orders, etc. We ordered another round of drinks (duh) and decided to start with the Beer Cheese Mac & Cheese with house-made sausage and tomatillo salsa.

Before that arrived, a plate of deep-friend codfish balls appeared at the table, compliments of the chef. Delicious. The mac and cheese came next, and it was really good but deceiving to the eye. It looked more like a traditional pasta dish than macaroni and cheese. The cheese was a lighter sauce, and the pasta was bowtie, not macaroni. When you looked at it, you didn’t think it was going to be good. Especially with a mess of salsa on top. But it was an interesting mix of flavors that I really enjoyed. Even the sausage, which I usually hate.

Next came figuring out what to order and how large of an order each item should be. I did a test run with the girls, and my first choices were deemed as “too much food.” I scaled it back and ordered a small plate of the Mushroom and Goat Cheese Catalan Cannelloni with salsa verde and a half order of the Miso-Chili Glazed Rare Hawaiian Tuna. The cannelloni came first, and for some reason I was expecting spiraly noodles in a mushroom and goat cheese sauce. In reality, it looked like two orange burritos stuffed with a mixture of mushroom and goat cheese, surrounded by green salsa. The mixture was very rich, and if you don’t like goat cheese, which I do, you wouldn’t like it because it had a very strong taste of it.

My tuna came next, and it was fabulous. Cooked rare, just as I like it, with a tortilla salad on top and some kind of sauce. I wish I had gotten the full order because it was really fantastic.

As for the other girls: Alyssa ordered Slow Roasted Pork Ropa Vieja with vanilla mashed sweet potatoes; Amy ordered a Caesar salad, and she and Alyssa split some blue cheese fondue; and Meghan ordered Spanish Calasparra Rice with manchego cheese, described as Spain’s version of risotto.

Of course we had to look at the dessert menu, and we were transfixed. I got this apple layered thing that was The. Freakin’. Bomb. It had almond wafers and in between was dulce de leche ice cream atop a bed of cooked apple slices. Alyssa and Meghan were equally impressed with their choices. Alyssa had a chocolate brioche with ice cream, and I thought Meghan was going to have a lady orgasm over her squash cupcake with molasses cream cheese frosting with honey ice cream. I had a taste of the honey ice cream, and it was so rich you only needed like half a scoop to be satisfied.

All in all it was a very successful meeting. And only $40 per person. I’d highly recommend this place, which also has a Phoenix location.

Tuesday Night Dinner Club: The Purple Pig/Bandera

Four of my college friends-Amy, Alyssa, Neha and Meghan-and I have formed the Tuesday Night Dinner Club. Every other Tuesday, we’ll go to a different restaurant in Chicago with a rotation of who chooses each time. If you can make it, great. If not, no big deal. It’s a great way to try new restaurants.

Last night was the first meeting of the club, and all members were in attendance but Amy, who got tied up at work. It was my choice, and I picked The Purple Pig, 500 N. Michigan Ave.

The Purple Pig is one of THE hottest restaurants in Chicago right now. Bon Appetit named it one of the best 10 new restaurants in America; it was a 2011 Michelin Guide Chicago Bib Gourmand winner; and it’s been featured on numerous other lists as one of the best restaurants in the city.

Naturally, we were excited.

The Purple Pig does not accept reservations, but initially, we weren’t too worried since we were meeting at 6 p.m. on a Tuesday. City-dwellers rarely eat dinner before 7 p.m. any day of the week.

The original plan was for me, Meghan and Neha Blossom to meet for drinks at Rock Bottom before our 6 p.m. dinner. We all get off work before 5 p.m., so we usually like to have few spirits before we meet Amy and Alyssa.

But then the more I started to think about the no reservation thing, the more worried I got. So we changed plans and decided to have our drinks at the bar at The Purple Pig. That way we could either get a table right away or they would see us there and know we were serious about eating there that night.

I was the first arrive at the restaurant (big surprise). I immediately congratulated myself for having such a good idea because this place was teeny tiny. And it was already filling up before 5 p.m. I informed the hostess there would be three for drinks but eventually five for dinner. Jerk Hostess said she could only seat our full party. I told her the fifth probably wouldn’t arrive until after we had ordered (at that time Amy was still in the mix but was going to get there late) and she repeated she would only seat the full party. So I put our name down for four, hoping Amy might arrive before we were seated or that they could pull up a chair when she got there.

I parked myself at the bar, ordered the bartender’s red wine recommendation and waited for my ladies. Meghan arrived next and agreed to help cure my starvation by ordering some prosciutto bread balls. They were OK, tasted more like spinach bread balls than anything. At that point, Amy texted us she wouldn’t be able to make it.

Alyssa arrived next and then Neha, after wandering aimlessly down Michigan Avenue claiming to be lost (not seeing the big sign that said “The Purple Pig). By this time, the place is packed, but there are still seats available. We inform Jerk Hostess that our entire party has arrived and she gives a “yup” and a nod as if she’s going to seat us ASAP. After five minutes, she tells us she’s just seated everybody waiting and it would be about an hour wait for a table for us.

(Cue head explosion).

I pound my glass of wine, and we immediately left. I found the entire exercise ridiculous, considering she knew we wanted to eat dinner there, we already had a $60 bar tab and were the first to arrive among the people she seated. Sorry, Purple Pig, but we won’t be back for a club meeting. And yes, I’ve told my friends about this bad experience. I’m close to posting this entry on Yelp.

We walked over to Bandera, 535 N. Michigan Ave., which is a sleek-looking upscale Latin (I think) restaurant that overlooks the Mag Mile. The food was good but quite pricey for what they offered. I had the steak and enchilada platter, which I thought was deceiving. To me, platter means an entire platter of meat and enchiladas. What I got was a very tasty cut up filet and one chicken, cheese and spinach enchilada. That was combined with some Spanish rice and a vegetable medley tossed in a champagne vinaigrette. For $28. Too much.

So that concluded the first, lackluster meeting of the Tuesday Night Dinner Club. Here’s hoping the March 1 meeting at Gilt Bar, 230 W. Kinzie, will be better.