hawaii & i: aloha eats (chicago)

YUM.

OMG, just – YUM!

After last night, I can say I’ve tasted Hawaiian cuisine, and that I am now probably a life-long fan.

Last night, after seeing “Scott Pilgrim vs the World” (which was GREAT) a group of ten of us descended upon Aloha Eats, which is a Hawaiian Grill located just south of Wrightwood on Clark in Chicago – which bills itself as “Chicago’s FIRST Hawaiian Mix Plate!”  Promptly, we found ourselves in carb-tastic foodie heaven on earth.

(First, however, we faced a mini-drama, as we didn’t realize how tiny the place really was. I’d envisioned a sit-down place, but it’s a tiny storefront place with a few tables.  Our group was about to order our food and take it back to our apartment to eat when – happily – a large family got up and we managed to steal their seats.)

Having watched both the Hawaii episodes of No Reservations and Man vs Food, I had a few ideas of things I wanted to see/try on a Hawaiian menu. Aloha Eats did not disappoint.

First and foremost, Eric and I shared a plate of Loco Moco.  If you’re not aware, Loco Moco is a bed of white rice, topped with two hamburger patties, gravy, and two fried eggs.  (Pictured above.)  It’s a heart attack on a plate, but sweet jesus it’s a delight.  On the Hawaii episode of Man vs Food, Adam Richman marvels over the dish, and in real life it truly is a marvelous thing.

Next,  I had a spectacular bowl of Saimin (essentially ramen soup) with Spam.  Yes, Spam. It’s a Hawaii thing. Though my husband despises it, I don’t personally find it to be all that bad – especially fried.   The Loco Moco was seriously tasty, but it’s the Saimin I will go back for. I adored it.  We also shared a seafood plate, which had fried shrimp, mahi mahi, and scallops, which were also fantastic. It was a lot of fried food, and a heck of a lot of carbs, but it was all really good and I can’t wait to go back.  (Anthony Bourdain featured Spam Saimin on the Honolulu episode of No Reservations, which is where I first knew I wanted to try it.)

It’s not a fancy place., and it also won’t break the bank.  The food is served in styrofoam containers with plastic silverware, and … it’s perfect. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.  The restaurant is BYOB, but they have fountain pop and a variety of canned juices.  (Hayley and Scott noted a slight disapointment that the fruit punch on the fountain pop machine wasn’t Hawaiian Punch, which seems like an easy cash in – but alas.)

Loved it. Absolutely loved  it.  I even “liked” them on facebook.

(Side Note: Aloha Eats is located next to the positively luscious Molly’s Cupcakes. We partook of cupcakes post-dinner, and it was a total win of a dining experience. The Cookie Monster cupcake was grand – with a ball of cookie dough in the center. No wonder they won the Food Network cupcake challenge.)

I write this with a happy heart and memories of a full-to-the-brim stomach.

hawaii & i: baking mango cookies during an “excessive heat advisory”

Sweet Jesus, it is hot in Chicago right now. We’re going through a phase of extreme summer weather that actually has us under an “excessive heat advisory.”

That said, I’m known as the girl in my office who bakes, and tomorrow is a co-workers birthday.  In addition, I’ve got this Hawaii research mission going on, and I’d found a recipe for “Mango Hawaiian Cookies.”

The stars aligned, the heat smoldered, and I made the genius decision to bake cookies in 90+ degree heat.

Yes, our apartment has air-conditioning. Two units, actually. And we have multiple ceiling fans, as well as a regular stand-alone fan.  However, baking creates warmth. It was in this atmosphere that I, the artist, worked in my chosen medium: baking.

(Oh, and if you’re one of those who cares -I donned a flowery sundress and kept fully hydrated with iced tea.)

First of all, here’s the recipe: Mango Hawaiian Cookies.  Despite the semi-exotic-ness of some of the ingredients (baking with mango?) they’re pretty basic and easy.  The whole thing took me maybe 90 minutes start to finish.

One of the major time-consuming aspects of the recipe was the chopping.   Since Eric despises cranberries, I swapped them out for dried cherries. Chopping dried cherries, dried Mango, and macadamia nuts isn’t easy. Dried fruit is sticky and macadamia nuts are round little bastards. (Not that I sent one or two flying across the room, because I totally didn’t.) With Anthony Bourdain exploring the culinary delights of Cairo in the background, I chopped away for a good twenty minutes.

Gratuitous cute cat alert.  As I chopped and mixed and simmered and baked, always by my side was my ever-trusty companion, Magellan. For a while, he labored under the impression that should anything fall on the floor, it was his. Then he realized I was working with fruit, and decided to chill out on the cool floorboards, as seen above.

As a baker, I relish any opportunity to work with brown sugar. In addition to just being delicious, it makes for fun mixing. The texture of the cookies is always cool when brown sugar is added.

Tada — Cookie dough success!

After folding in coconut, cherries, mango, and macadamia nuts, I had a sexy looking dough and began the actual baking process.

It was during the actual baking process that I realized vanilla, despite appearing in the list of ingredients, never actually appears in the recipe. So, my version of these cookies was sans Vanilla. C’est La Vie.

My one piece of advice to bakers.. know your oven.  The day I realized that when our oven calls for ten minutes of baking time, it actually only needs seven, my baking went to a whole new (significantly less burned) level.

Minutes passed, cookies came in and out of the oven, and they turned out great.  My darling husband is the best sounding board one who bakes could ever ask for, and he paid the ultimate compliment when he compared them to shortbread (which he loves dearly.)  Personally, I’d describe them as “shortbready, with stuff.”  The dried cherries give a boost of sweetness that I don’t think would have been present with dried cranberries. Not to mention that I find dried cranberries to often be hard little chewy chunks.  The cherries are softer, and sweeter, and all in all swapping them out was a solid choice.

So, tomorrow I go to work armed with roughly three dozen Mango Hawaiian cookies. Ding Ding Ding! I’m awesome.

As far as research about Hawaii goes, come on. These cookies were probably about as Hawaiian as Chipotle is Mexican. However, I hear it’s temperate on the islands, and I’m sure at some point folks over there need to bake something, so maybe I learned a lesson about real island life. (I’m totally trying to justify it, btu really… they’re cookies. With Mango. I’m sure the general Hawaiian population wouldn’t bite into one of these cookies and exclaim, “Ah! It’s like home.. in a cookie!”)

However, they turned out great.

All in all, I’d say it’s a win.

Now, I’m going to emulate Magellan andlay on the floor in front of the air conditioner. Don’t melt, Chicago!

hawaii & i: foodie research #1

Being foodies, and being about two weeks away from our Hawaiian adventure, Eric and I met up with the marvelous Kennedys (fresh back to Chicago after their own adventure at Comic-Con 2010) for an evening of Mai Tais and Polynesian food exploration.

Our research has led us to believe that Chicago really has two “Hawaiian” restaurant options.

The first is the Aloha Grill, which is actually quite near our home and looks like a trip and a half.

However, for this dinner we went to the other option:  Trader Vics.

Located in Chicago’s Viagra Triangle area, I was quite surprised to find how empty the restaurant was.  Here it was, happy hour, and when Eric and I arrived (early for our reservation) we were immediately seated at our table, and – other than two people at the bar and another couple lounging on the wicker furniture – were the only people in the restaurant.

I wasn’t aware that Trader Vic’s was a chain – but it turns out there are 20-ish restaurants worldwide.  (Note: 8 of the locations are clustered in the middle east, leading me to believe that faux-Polynesian-influenced dining is a big thing over in that neck of the woods.)

Apparently, the claim to fame of this establishment is that they invented the Mai Tai.  Their cocktail menu is larger than the actual food menu, and we all agreed the drinks we had (including the famous Mai Tais) were delicious.  The foamy beverage in the coconut cup in the picture above was especially dreamy.

Though the drinks were perfect, the service was.. spotty. Liz and I both agreed our server was a tool.  (The young trainee who was shadowing him, however, was sweet – especially when he awkwardly offered us more spoons in between our courses.)  For the restaurant being as empty as it was, there were many times he was nowhere to be found.

Regarding the food, my “Pork Chop Hawaiian” was perfectly cooked, and topped with a slice of grilled pineapple.  Eric and Liz both tried the Island Bake, which they raved over, and Mike had the surf and turf (lobster and a cheeseburger) which was a heaping plate of food.  We also had appetizer plates and a serving of tasty sushi.

So – overall impressions…

Tasty food and Drinks.  Spotty service.  Good friends. Great conversation. Quite pricey.

Do I feel like I learned anything about Hawaiian dining? No.  It was kind of like a really nice version of Bennigans. With Tiki men everywhere.  Still, I’m glad I’ve experienced it.

Up next, we’re reuniting with the Kennedys for a trip to the previously mentioned Aloha Grill.

Chicago’s Green City Market

By all accounts and my own admission, I am not someone who particulary focuses on eating Organic foods. However, I do support the slow food movement and the idea of knowing where your food is coming from.  In addition, I think supporting local farmers is a completely valid and valuable cause.

So, with all that said, let’s talk about Chicago’s Green City Market.

Which, in addition to being a complete joy, hits all of the points I mentioned above.

Held on the south end of Lincoln Park on a twice-weekly basis from May to October, it’s the area’s only year-round farmers market. (In winter months, it moves indoors to the Peggy Notebaert Nature Museum.)  Farmers from around the Midwest come to peddle their goods, which range from flowers to cheese to meat to homemade pies. (Pies seem to be a big hit.  By the time we got to the Hoosier Mama Pie booth, they were already sold out.)

Eric and I took a jaunt down to Saturday’s market, and wound up coming home with strawberries, snap peas, asparagus, radishes, and peonies from local Midwestern farmers. We also bought steaks from the Heartland Meats people to cook for Memorial Day.

The vendors are all incredibly knowledgeable about their products, being the ones who actually grow/produce them, and the produce is all positively beautiful.

I mean, check out these radishes (which I totally wound up buying.)

The atmosphere is very chill and relaxed, and there doesn’t seem to be much (if any) elbowing people out of the way to get at the merchandise. Visitors to the market seem to be largely young couples with babies and strollers and people with dogs.  It’s also a dreamland for foodies; There are samples of everything from cheeses to rhubarb popsicles.

If you’re lucky – like we are – you’ll get to make a new friend. (LOVE this dog.)

It’s a nice way to spend an afternoon.  You should go.

Dear Clarkes on Belmont & Lincoln….

Dear Chicago Eaters –

When I first moved to Chicago, the first establishment I would say I frequented was Clarke’s on Belmont.

I am breaking up with Clarkes on Belmont (and the one on Lincoln Avenue, too, but more on that later.)

Frankly, it’s not an enjoyable place anymore.

Not that it was ever great, but five years ago as a Chicago beginner, I thought it was a blast. The location and being open 24 hours can’t be beat, but I’ve come to realize it’s downfalls.

The food has stayed the same – though prices have gone up. The food has never been that spectacular to begin with, and to think of paying more for it is ridiculous.  I’ve never had sunny side up eggs there that weren’t runny, and for some reason getting an iced tea seems to be equitable to astrophysics. 

The service at the Belmont location just gets worse and worse.

There used to a waiter there we called “stoner dude,” who would inevitably get about 75% of your order right – then do something random like forget a persons order, or bring cake in place of soup. He did all this with a completely plastic look on his face.

There was also an incident with a terrible waitress. Three friends and I went to Clarkes for dinner one night, and – though it was hardly full – had to wait a while to be seated while the servers sat talking in a booth in the back,  not paying attention to us. Finally seated, we were handed menus and about fifteen minutes later our drink order was taken. After what must have been another twenty minutes, our drinks arrived and we ordered out food. DECADES later, our food arrived and our waitress seemed to vanish. We didn’t see her again for ninety minutes and had to grab other waiters to get missing silverware (there were four of us, and she only gave us three sets of silverware), and drink refills, until one of my friends grabbed another waiter and asked for our check. We left a very standard 15% tip and left – and this waitress chased us out of the restaurant, offended that we gave her such a terrible tip.  

Really?

I’ve only been to the other Clarkes – on Lincoln Avenue – twice.

The first time was after seeing a show, and I only had tea, so there wasn’t anything to complain about.

Last week, I stopped there for a pre-show dinner with friends.

Our rude server immediately rubbed us the wrong way.  You’re a server, smile. Don’t act like I should be grateful to be seated. There were all of four tables full when we arrived.

One friend ordered an omelette, and it arrived literally brown. Like, burned. When he asked to send it back, nicely, the server responded “You don’t want it that way?” to which my clever friend replied “Burned? No.” With a sigh, the server took the omelette away and – after a while – returned one that was only slightly less burned, which my friend just dealt with. (It was also noted that the Diet Coke tasted really off, but by that point we were just over it.)

And, at both locations, you cannot split your check. It’s 2009. Come on.

In a city like Chicago, where there are literally thousands of food options, why deliberately go someplace terrible?

I’m saying no to Clarkes from now on.

Marche

Dating a guy with a penchant for surprises keeps me on my toes – as well as causes me to once in a great while up my game. 

So, last night (after a month of me barely keeping my mouth shut) I loaded the amazing Mr. Prahl into a cab and hauled him down to Marche, a French restaurant that’s always been on the top of my “places I should probably go when I need an excuse to dress up.”

I think Eric’s mind was blown. Largely because he had never heard of the place.

From the outside, Marche is rather non-descript. If you didn’t know what was underneath those red awnings, you’d have literally no reason to head inside. It could be any restaurant on Randolph.  Once you step inside, however, it’s like walking into Cirque du Soliel presents Moulin Rouge. Colors and props and murals are everywhere – but it manages to not cross the line into tacky. It’s just whimsical and fun.

**AND, their music selections were great – The Flaming Lips and Radiohead were both overheard.

Our food was also sensational. I had the Market salad (goat cheese, red peppers, sunflower seeds, field greens) and the Wild Bass, both of which were delicious. Eric partook of the Atlantic Salmon and Voulauvent des camignons (a fantastic puff pastry with mushroom appetizer) which were also delicious. For dessert, I tried the Raspberry and Apple Cobbler and he had the Profiteroles (cream puffs with ice cream and chocolate sauce) and on top of all that, the service was great – Danica, our server, was always right there when needed.

We both left with bellies full, but not to an uncomfortable level – which, for us, is a huge plus.

Ah, two foodies in a food city.

Marche does a Prix Fixe menu on Mondays and Wednesdays. I reccomend experiencing the restautant for the first time that way. I’m a big fan of Prix Fixe menus in general, and Marche’s menu is rather expansive.

Also, The story behind the restaurant and it’s decor is also interesting. Click here if you care.

Cafe Absinthe (Chicago, IL)

http://www.cafeabsinthechicago.com/

Eric and I are Chicago foodies.  That said, our surprises to each other often come in the form of dinner at special places.

My birthday was no exception.

I was told I had to wear a dress, and given instructions to get on the red line after my rehearsal and get off at North Avenue, where I was to get on the bus and head west.  By some miracle, Eric happened to be on said North Avenue bus, and we got off in Wicker Park. After some brief shopping at the various Akiras in that ‘hood, I was told where we were going – and promptly giggled.

I have wanted to go to Cafe Absinthe for about 2 years – since I first learned of it while trekking to Cherie’s apartment to head to a Music Man rehearsal.

The interior is very intimate – way smaller than you’d think – and the kitchen is right out in the open on one end of the space – so you can see the chefs preparing your food. It’s dim, with private tables and candlelight, and I immediately loved it.

The food was wonderful – so wonderful, in fact, that we felt like we might explode when we left and waddled back to the bus. I had a spinach salad, beef tenderloin, and chocolate cake – all of which were amazing – as well as an Artisianal Cheese Plate made of three  cheeses I couldn’t name you, but all were splendid. Eric had the duck, which was really amazing also.

Wine, cheese, cake, candles – it was a pretty damn stellar birthday dinner.  Probably even my favorite ever.

Huzzah.

Dixie Kitchen @ Bait Shop (Evanston, IL)

DixieKitchenEvanston.com

Do you like deep fried home-grown southern style food?

If yes, you MUST try the Dixie Kitchen and Bait Shop in Evanston, Illinois. (Located right off the Davis Purple Line stop.)

I had Jambalaya, cornbread pancakes, and a Green Goddess Salad (which has chicken, pecans, and peppers among other things - and an awsome dressing I still can’t describe..) It was totally filling and completely satisfying after a long week of working really hard. Eric had a chicken fried steak that was bigger than the plate it was served on, mashed sweet potatoes, and greens. Everything made my mouth water.

I’m kind of dying to try their weekend brunch…

Dude. Obama loves this place, too.

I’m just sayin’….

Geja’s Cafe

Eric and I had a mystery date last night – As in, HE had a plan that I was not privy to.

After ten billion questions and me somehow getting convinced we were going to Dave and Busters, I found myself standing outside Geja’s – a fondue restaurant I have wanted to go to the entire time I’ve been in Chicago – and it was restaurant week, and the timing was perfect.

GEJA’S CAFE

340 W. Armitage, Chicago, IL

http://www.gejascafe.com/

“The best fondue establishment in Chicago is Geja’s Cafe” – Chicago Tribune.

I have to imagine that the Tribune is right, because I can’t imagine a more wonderful dining experience than Gejas. From our amazing wine flight (featuring three different wines I remember enoying but can’t remember the names of) to the dimly-lit and intimate dining tables, everything was absolutely stellar. Our smart and sassy server was a pro and made sure we had everything we needed – and the food, oh the food… was marvelous.

You begin with a cheese fondue and a bowl of bread, apples, and grapes to dip into it.  The cheese is great, probably a blend of several cheeses actually – it has a little kick to it, and it’s divine.

Then, you choose your “entree” – basically, what kind of meat you want to dip. A pot of oil is brought to your table, as is a tray of meats and vegetables, and a plethora of dipping sauces.  You are quickly taught the rules – how long meats take to cook, and how many things to keep in the pot at a time to prevent the oil from getting too hot and splattering. Eric had the beef tenderloin and scallops, I had the chicken and scallops. We had a great time trying combinations of meats and vegetables – and learned that scallops can be tricky bastards when it comes to staying on a skewer. Also, a potato may have slipped away from us and met it’s death after too long in the boiling oil, but c’est la vie.

Nearly stuffed off meat, veggies, and wine, it was time for the dessert course – and we knew we were in for a treat when the server brought a fondue pot of chocolate, then set it on fire and toasted marshmallows for us in it. The flame goes down after a few minutes and you are left with bananas, strawberries, poundcake, melon, and pineapple to dip.  You wouldn’t think chocolate covered pineapple would be good, right? It’s astonishing. Though I’m a chocolate dipped banana girl, personally. The dessert course is matched with a port wine that is sweet and awesome.

I loved going to Gejas – it’s romantic and an adventure.

 

HIGHLY RECCOMENDED!

One night at the cafe…

Last night, with 45 minutes to kill and a whole lot of exhaustion and stress going on, I decided I needed coffee.

Because, you know, that’s relaxing.

I was walking down Belmont and I saw Bittersweet Pastry Shop and Cafe (1114 W. Belmont Ave. Chicago, IL 60657) which I’d passed by forever and never managed to partake in.

I went in to get coffee. 

However, while standing at the register surrounded by baked goods and insanely gorgeous desserts, I decided that I also needed a rice krispie treat, dipped in chocolate, on a stick, with sprinkles. 

Because, sometimes, regardless of fitness or diet or what have you, a girl needs some candy and sprinkles. 

While I was sitting in the quaint cafe area, reading my script and listening to the strains of classical music playing overhead, a crazy-looking man wandered in, dragging a suitcase across the floor behind him, and playing a harmonica.

The manager adeptly stepped up to him and managed to get him to leave in exchange for a brownie.

BUT – before the man left, he blew a long loud note on his harmonica, threw his hand in the air like a rock star, and yelled “Goodnight!”

Then he headed out – and the whole cafe exploded into giggles.

Bittersweet is a little pretentious and a little overpriced, but my dessert and coffee were wonderful and it was a lovely quiet atmosphere to chill in for a brief while. Even with the Harmonica Man. Oh, Chicago…