Friday Food: Chicago Edition

I have one more Chicago recap post left in me, and I would be remiss if I didn't spend it talking about all of the (very unhealthy) food I ate on my recent trip. My first real meal in the city (not counting the hotel make-your-own waffle) was, fittingly enough, deep-dish pizza. I met up with two of my friends who were also visiting for the wedding, and we walked around Millennium Park for a bit before we started to get hungry. I suggested Gino's, since I had been a few times before, but it was a little far away and we were on a tight time schedule. Google came to the rescue, as always, and led us to Giordano's which is right across from the park.

We were told there was a 45-minute wait, so we put our name in for a text alert when our table was available. We headed out down Michigan Avenue to sight-see while we waited, but we weren't gone more than ten minutes before I got a text that our table was ready. We had already put in our pizza order ("Meat and More Meat"), so it wasn't long after we sat down that it came to our table.

This is where I preface my review by saying that I don't even consider deep-dish pizza to be actual pizza. I am a thin-crust, New York-style girl through and through, but that's not to say I don't enjoy the occasional mile-high, cheese then sauce slice when I find myself in Chicago. I put deep-dish in a category all its own, a cross somewhere between a lasagna and a real slice of pizza. Giordano's was as good as any I've had, but to be honest all of the different kinds I've tried over the years have sort of blended together in my mind. The abundance of meat toppings was totally tasty, and the location wins on convenience points alone.

The next day, after my three+ mile walk to Lincoln Park, I stopped for lunch in one of the zoo cafes and ordered a Chicago-style hotdog. Hotdogs are my guilty pleasure, and I continue to adore them even though I know they're totally disgusting, laden with chemicals and non-edible parts, and are probably killing me slowly. I'd never had a Chicago-style dog before, and I've always been somewhat of a purist when it comes to hotdogs. For most of my life I was strictly mustard only, but recently I've ventured into sauerkraut territory with excellent results.

I said yes to almost all of the standard Chicago fixins: onion, mustard, tomato and hot peppers, although I drew the line at relish. Pickle wedges were not offered, unfortunately, but I would have included those as well if it had been an option. I'm so glad that I decided to step outside of my culinary comfort zone, because the end result was delicious. One of the best hotdogs I've ever eaten, in fact, and now I'm wondering about all sorts of alternate toppings. I don't think my hotdog consumption will ever be the same (or quite so sad and plain) again, and I have Chicago to thank for showing me the way. I also managed to eat the entire thing without getting one poppyseed stuck in my teeth, which is a pretty big deal.

That night, I also walked to Navy Pier (racking up another three+ miles in the process), where I went on a mad hunt for caramel corn. The carnival atmosphere of the pier had me craving something sweet, and once I got it in my head that I wanted caramel corn there was no stopping me until I found it. It was harder to track down than you would think, but I was finally victorious when I found a Garrett Popcorn shop. I was all set to order plain caramel corn, but when I asked about the make-up of their "Chicago Mix," and she told me that it was a mix of caramel corn and cheddar cheese corn, I thought "When in Chicago," and made the last minute switch. It was definitely the right decision, and the mixture of salty and sweet was perfect. I managed to save some for the next day, by which time it had already started to go stale, so I recommend eating it quickly (not a problem).

My last food stop in the city was Margie's Candies, which I passed a few times on the walk from where I was staying to the Western stop on the Blue Line. I decided to check it out right before I left, and I'm so glad I did. It's the oldest ice cream shop in Chicago, and everyone from Al Capone, to the Rolling Stones to the Beatles have stopped in for a sweet treat. The place is a total time capsule, with tabletop jukeboxes and a huge menu filled with ice cream delights that they serve in huge plastic clamshells.

I ordered a brownie sundae, which came with an entire gravy boat filled with hot fudge, and was big enough for four people. I made it through half of it before giving up, and unless you have an enormous appetite, I recommend bringing a friend or two to help you out. Their sign has some of the most beautiful neon typography I've ever seen, and it's perfect whether it's lit up or not.

I left Chicago feeling like I was in desperate need of a vegetable (or five), but I figure I balanced my feasts with quite a bit of walking so I didn't feel too bad about it. I did, however, resist getting a Cinnabon in the airport, which I've never managed to pass up before so who cares if I ate my remaining caramel corn for dinner the next day?