The Good Grub Does Chicago ...
Do you ever just sit around wondering what it would be like to cross two separate but equally amazing things? Like a cheeseburger and a hot dog (see: Mike's Sandwich Shop) … or like Archie Manning and a horse (see: Eli and Peyton Manning) … or like what the Good Grub is into … the Taste of Chicago meets a weeklong bender in Vegas … crammed into a day. So we bring to you … The Good Grub Does Chicago.
It's around lunchtime, I'm in Chicago for one more day, and I'm skimming through the suggestions that have been tossed up onto the Pending Grub List. We knocked down Pizzeria Uno the night before, so what's the next logical Chicago institution to hit up? Well, you can't go wrong listening to a guy named Money. So off the recommendation of one-half of our favorite duo over at PMS, we loaded up our gear and head out into the wild … in search of The Wiener Circle. We found the crammed little space, covered in graffiti, and full of one-part-hungry, two-part-excited Chicago-dog-seekers … all pilled in, shouting out there orders, and eager for the GRUB about to be bestowed upon them. We went for a Char-Dog and a Red Hot, both loaded up with all the Chicago-riffic fixins - Sport-peppers, pickles, onions, tomatoes, mustard, celery salt, and the sign you know you're in a land like no other … Kelly green relish. The neon goodness, that melds with all the other greatness loaded onto the poppy seed bun, signals your taste buds to brace for euphoria. We also threw down for an order of cheese fries and let the eat-fest blast off. The fries were great on their own, and the cheese kicked it up to another level. Sure there was probably five times more cheese than was humanly possible to eat … but it was the thought that counts.
At this point I felt like times a wasting … the day is already half goon and we have to leave tomorrow … so we did what any brave Grubber would do … we forged onward. We spent the day up in Wrigleyville watching the NCAA elite eight games, having a bucket of beers, and planning an attack on our evening Grub-session … Chicago Pizza and Oven Grinder. So as the sun began to set, and our belly had started to heal, we set off on a (slightly inebriated) stroll down Clark Street, past The Wiener Circle and towards our next victim. Now what happened along the way is of some debate, but the tale goes as such … about half way down the path, where the roads split, we found ourselves face to face with Al's Italian Beef, a suggestion from our buddy back home, Ryan H. It wasn't part of the plan, but sometimes you have to think on the fly. So we decided to knock out another of Chicago's finest and split a mini Italian beef sandwich and an order of fries. Someone has to define "mini" for Al. This giant hunk of moist, flavorful sliced beef, spicy Giardiniera peppers, and melted cheese, nestled between a crispy, toasted bun … is quite possibly God's greatest gift to man. It was a good thing my GRUB buddy Teresa C. and I split the beast, because as I alluded to above, we had bigger fish to fry … or pizza to eat.
So we continued along our journey, we tried to keep our head down and keep our feet moving, but once again another Good Grub suggestion caught our attention out of the corner of our eye. This time it was the unicorn known as Five Guys … Midwest / East Coast institution that has been tossed into the ring with the West Coast’s finest, In-N-Out. Sure they have a couple on the west coast, but I have still yet to taste the magic that was first recommended by our GRUB-mate Brian G. But knowing that we'd probably spoil our dinner, we kept on trucking.
And as the day turned to night we finally arrived at the lit up sign signifying our arrival at Chicago Pizza and Over Grinder (known as CPOG by Kevin and Molly, two fellow travelers I met in Costa Rica who went on and on about its Grub-Worthiness). The old school eatery was definitely the spot. We weaved through the swarm of anxious people in line, got to the front, and got a quote on the wait time … about an hour and a half. A little deflated, but still hanging in there, we went to put our name on the list but were told "the man" will just find you. Now more intrigued than ever, and wondering how he would ever find us through the mass of other GRUB-hunters, we waited outside in the cool Chicago evening.
After about fifteen minutes, my mind started to wonder and recap how crazy the day had already been … and a wild thought came to my mind … let's go for the gold, let's hit up five guys too. As I convinced Teresa that if we split a burger, we'd still be hungry for pizza in an hour, I deep down knew it was probably a bad idea … or maybe the greatest move I would ever make. So we quickly darted back up Clark Street, back in the direction of the Wiener Circle, and into the brightly lit Five Guys. Again, we went for the mini, which was more like a large-i, and got it load with all of Five Guys "basic topics" and some jalapenos for good measure. There was definitely a unique vibe to the place … a made to order, good ingredients motto that produced one hell of a burger … kind of messy and out of control, exactly how I like it. And the fries were no slouch either … maybe the hottest, freshly-fried morsels I've ever had. But I'll be honest, as soon as we finished, and even more time had passed since our last two meals (this being the third in about eight hours), we were starting to feel the weight of our mission.
Still exited, and eager to try the somewhat infamous CPOG, we kept on keeping on. The line had thinned out a little bit back at the Chicago Pizza and Oven Grinder, but we still ended up waiting another 30 minutes or so … which was totally fine by us because it gave us time to stalk the other tables in the window and plan exactly what we would get. The obvious choice, as it was in every booth, was the Mediterranean bread. The giant, meant-for-two-plates-but-served-on-one, doughy monster comes loaded with fresh garlic and Italian seasonings, and was just bursting with rich, buttery flavor. A perfect starter to prime yourself for the other reason people wait so long … the pizza pot pie. Now if you go in expecting your usual Chicago Deep Dish, you'll be thinking fast ball but getting the curve. This is truly what it's called … a pot pie. Cooked in its own separate dish … the cheese, tomato sauce, and mushrooms (if you so choose … and of course we did) get loaded in first and then covered with their made from scratch “triple-raised”, Sicilian pizza dough and tossed into the oven. They bring it piping hot, straight to your tableland flip it over onto your plate … revealing the pizza lurking from within. Even after everything we had been through, we could still tell we were on to something glorious. It was definitely no Chicago deep dish, but it was something amazing unto itself. The home made sauce and special blend of cheeses were not your average pizza fillers … super rich, perfectly seasoned, and bursting with unreal flavor. And the mushrooms weren't your pre-sliced, afterthought … they were giant, whole "doorknob" button mushrooms … soaked to their core with everything else swimming around inside the pot pie.
We finally wandered out of CPOG, now around 11 … four meals all sloshing around in our bellies … and wanting nothing more than a cab back to our hotel room. It was definitely one of the most outrageous eat-a-thons I've ever been a part of. But I feel like I've made it to the top … I've conquered the beast … and planted my flag at the peak. And so after about ten hours … two toping-overloaded Chicago-dogs … a moist and zesty Italian beef sandwich … a giant, gut-busting burger… three order of crispy, salty fries … one loaded with tons of cheese … and a flavor-overload, inverted pizza pot pie … I claim this land for GRUB.
It's around lunchtime, I'm in Chicago for one more day, and I'm skimming through the suggestions that have been tossed up onto the Pending Grub List. We knocked down Pizzeria Uno the night before, so what's the next logical Chicago institution to hit up? Well, you can't go wrong listening to a guy named Money. So off the recommendation of one-half of our favorite duo over at PMS, we loaded up our gear and head out into the wild … in search of The Wiener Circle. We found the crammed little space, covered in graffiti, and full of one-part-hungry, two-part-excited Chicago-dog-seekers … all pilled in, shouting out there orders, and eager for the GRUB about to be bestowed upon them. We went for a Char-Dog and a Red Hot, both loaded up with all the Chicago-riffic fixins - Sport-peppers, pickles, onions, tomatoes, mustard, celery salt, and the sign you know you're in a land like no other … Kelly green relish. The neon goodness, that melds with all the other greatness loaded onto the poppy seed bun, signals your taste buds to brace for euphoria. We also threw down for an order of cheese fries and let the eat-fest blast off. The fries were great on their own, and the cheese kicked it up to another level. Sure there was probably five times more cheese than was humanly possible to eat … but it was the thought that counts.
At this point I felt like times a wasting … the day is already half goon and we have to leave tomorrow … so we did what any brave Grubber would do … we forged onward. We spent the day up in Wrigleyville watching the NCAA elite eight games, having a bucket of beers, and planning an attack on our evening Grub-session … Chicago Pizza and Oven Grinder. So as the sun began to set, and our belly had started to heal, we set off on a (slightly inebriated) stroll down Clark Street, past The Wiener Circle and towards our next victim. Now what happened along the way is of some debate, but the tale goes as such … about half way down the path, where the roads split, we found ourselves face to face with Al's Italian Beef, a suggestion from our buddy back home, Ryan H. It wasn't part of the plan, but sometimes you have to think on the fly. So we decided to knock out another of Chicago's finest and split a mini Italian beef sandwich and an order of fries. Someone has to define "mini" for Al. This giant hunk of moist, flavorful sliced beef, spicy Giardiniera peppers, and melted cheese, nestled between a crispy, toasted bun … is quite possibly God's greatest gift to man. It was a good thing my GRUB buddy Teresa C. and I split the beast, because as I alluded to above, we had bigger fish to fry … or pizza to eat.
So we continued along our journey, we tried to keep our head down and keep our feet moving, but once again another Good Grub suggestion caught our attention out of the corner of our eye. This time it was the unicorn known as Five Guys … Midwest / East Coast institution that has been tossed into the ring with the West Coast’s finest, In-N-Out. Sure they have a couple on the west coast, but I have still yet to taste the magic that was first recommended by our GRUB-mate Brian G. But knowing that we'd probably spoil our dinner, we kept on trucking.
And as the day turned to night we finally arrived at the lit up sign signifying our arrival at Chicago Pizza and Over Grinder (known as CPOG by Kevin and Molly, two fellow travelers I met in Costa Rica who went on and on about its Grub-Worthiness). The old school eatery was definitely the spot. We weaved through the swarm of anxious people in line, got to the front, and got a quote on the wait time … about an hour and a half. A little deflated, but still hanging in there, we went to put our name on the list but were told "the man" will just find you. Now more intrigued than ever, and wondering how he would ever find us through the mass of other GRUB-hunters, we waited outside in the cool Chicago evening.
After about fifteen minutes, my mind started to wonder and recap how crazy the day had already been … and a wild thought came to my mind … let's go for the gold, let's hit up five guys too. As I convinced Teresa that if we split a burger, we'd still be hungry for pizza in an hour, I deep down knew it was probably a bad idea … or maybe the greatest move I would ever make. So we quickly darted back up Clark Street, back in the direction of the Wiener Circle, and into the brightly lit Five Guys. Again, we went for the mini, which was more like a large-i, and got it load with all of Five Guys "basic topics" and some jalapenos for good measure. There was definitely a unique vibe to the place … a made to order, good ingredients motto that produced one hell of a burger … kind of messy and out of control, exactly how I like it. And the fries were no slouch either … maybe the hottest, freshly-fried morsels I've ever had. But I'll be honest, as soon as we finished, and even more time had passed since our last two meals (this being the third in about eight hours), we were starting to feel the weight of our mission.
Still exited, and eager to try the somewhat infamous CPOG, we kept on keeping on. The line had thinned out a little bit back at the Chicago Pizza and Oven Grinder, but we still ended up waiting another 30 minutes or so … which was totally fine by us because it gave us time to stalk the other tables in the window and plan exactly what we would get. The obvious choice, as it was in every booth, was the Mediterranean bread. The giant, meant-for-two-plates-but-served-on-one, doughy monster comes loaded with fresh garlic and Italian seasonings, and was just bursting with rich, buttery flavor. A perfect starter to prime yourself for the other reason people wait so long … the pizza pot pie. Now if you go in expecting your usual Chicago Deep Dish, you'll be thinking fast ball but getting the curve. This is truly what it's called … a pot pie. Cooked in its own separate dish … the cheese, tomato sauce, and mushrooms (if you so choose … and of course we did) get loaded in first and then covered with their made from scratch “triple-raised”, Sicilian pizza dough and tossed into the oven. They bring it piping hot, straight to your tableland flip it over onto your plate … revealing the pizza lurking from within. Even after everything we had been through, we could still tell we were on to something glorious. It was definitely no Chicago deep dish, but it was something amazing unto itself. The home made sauce and special blend of cheeses were not your average pizza fillers … super rich, perfectly seasoned, and bursting with unreal flavor. And the mushrooms weren't your pre-sliced, afterthought … they were giant, whole "doorknob" button mushrooms … soaked to their core with everything else swimming around inside the pot pie.
We finally wandered out of CPOG, now around 11 … four meals all sloshing around in our bellies … and wanting nothing more than a cab back to our hotel room. It was definitely one of the most outrageous eat-a-thons I've ever been a part of. But I feel like I've made it to the top … I've conquered the beast … and planted my flag at the peak. And so after about ten hours … two toping-overloaded Chicago-dogs … a moist and zesty Italian beef sandwich … a giant, gut-busting burger… three order of crispy, salty fries … one loaded with tons of cheese … and a flavor-overload, inverted pizza pot pie … I claim this land for GRUB.
