Portions are very generous, and they are happy to box up anything you can't finish. This is one of the best value meals I've enjoyed in Chicago in quite some time.
Roscoe Village, North Side
Endgrain is one of the heartiest, most comforting restaurants to open in Chicago in a long time. The new Roscoe Village restaurant is sort of a soulful middle finger to the Atkins legacy.
Costello's gives a mega-sandwich that goes beyond simply piling on ingredients.
Jessie Oloroso, the head of Black Dog herself, was kind enough to give me free reign in her kitchen to see how she makes the shop's most popular flavor: Goat Cheese Cashew Caramel gelato.
Writing about the vast selection at Paulina's sausages is overwhelming for a single column. In fact, I had no idea what I'd do until I got there and noticed a chance to write about one thing they do a lot of, and do well. That thing is bratwurst. Paulina has probably the biggest selection I've ever seen (curry bratwurst, anyone?), both traditional varieties and inventive variations.
To order from the walk-up window at Scooter's Frozen Custard, just pull the string next to the window. It is connected to a bell inside, which clanks back and forth a few times, alerting the staff inside that you're ready. This is an operation built almost entirely on frozen custard, and it's a silky smooth foundation.
Big Boy Gyros has all the elements down for its namesake sandwich: the meat is crisp, caramelized, and shaved thinly; the pita is soft and fluffy; and the taziki sauce actually has some flavor. Even the skinny fries are crispy and hot.
Given Chicago's recent heat wave, perhaps it was only natural that I went running for the ice cream parlors. On the other hand, I sip malts in winter, spring, and fall, so the heat may just be an excuse for the calories. In any case, after searching high and low, north and south, here are five of the best milkshakes in the city of Chicago.
Chicago is a great food city, one of my top three in the world, but it's a lousy ice cream and frozen custard 'burg. Until fairly recently you had to go to neighboring Wisconsin for standout frozen custard. But everything I tried at Scooter's, a six-year-old, seasonally open mom-and-pop frozen custard shop, was killer.