Greetings from the Windy City, aka the City of Sodden Socks.
Note: this post is about Chicago. Fair city readers who care only for Paris may prefer this new article about the Paris restaurant scene, or this one about February concerts.I was mildly deported recently, sent back to retrieve a slip of paper, and am making the most of this exile by stuffing my gullet with fried Americana.
The Health Fest began on Saturday when I was greeted by my hosts Nikki and Garen with, among other delicacies, a batch of homemade samosas.
The next day brought a Scotch egg and fried zucchini at the Gage, followed by a bag of takeaway pupusas.
Day three was deep dish Chicago pizza and a trip to Kuma's Corner, a metal bar cum hamburger shack where every sandwich bears the name of a band. Pictured below, the Pantera.
Yesterday began with a pilgrimage to Hot Doug's, one of my top five eateries in the world. My admiration for this man and his sausage is such that I made an offering of illegal foie gras at his
In return, I feasted on the traditional Chicago dog, a Polish with peppers and carmelized onions, and an apple & cherry pork sausage with chutney and cranberry Wensleydale cheese. With a mountain of cheese fries, of course. Dinner chez Ed & Kathy offered no caloric respite: fried chicken, fried okra, and slaw.
At this point in the trip, I fear my digestive track may be shutting down. And I haven't even made it to Pilsen yet!
More to come from Chicago, site of my own personal war on moderation...