New Year's Reflection: My top 5 in food and culture

About eleven months ago Miles to Go Before I Sleep started as a writing exercise, an excuse to commit myself to writing three to four times a month to a food or cultural experience I had. At times I knew not what to write with a lean month, or other times, like with New York or summer in Chicago, having far too many places to share. I can say that I was fortunate to have my fiancé Ally and friends accompany me on these experiences, something I press hard into my students as a truly valuable education outside of a classroom. 2013 brings possibilities in what is already a short-list of places to go, menus to devour. Looking back, I’d like to share with you what I felt were my top five each in food and culture experiences as the clock winds down on 2012.

Top 5 – Food

1)      Five Napkin Burger in NYC – Best burger of my life. The Earth’s rotation slowed for me.

2)      Les Halles in NYC – The most pleasurable dinner of my life

  3)      Two Brothers Brewery in Warrenville – Rich in flavor and big on public engagement

4)      Haymarket Brewery in Chicago’s West Loop – Creative and accommodating in food and brews

5)      Smoque in Chicago – One bite of those ribs and I was transported to Elysium.

Honorable mentions:

Real Urban BBQ – Visited far too many times to not have on the list                                 

Texas de Brazil – Favorite decadent pig-out palace                         

Pete Miller’s – Almost a top five with their steaks if not for Les Halles

Top 5 – Cultural experiences

1)      (Tie) Ellis Island – Opening the door to your ancestors would make you cry too.

2)      (Tie) Ryan and Heather’s wedding – Guilt trip to not place this on the list – it’s my honor.

3)      The Book of Mormon – Ally and I have agreed this is our favorite musical, probably because of the endless renditions of the show we have played out in our cars and home.

4)      Rockefeller Center – Fascinating art deco complex for private and public endeavors. Great views of New York from the Top of the Rock

5)      Door County – a summer/fall family destination since I was a child. Some places stick because they call you home.

Honorable mentions:

-Chicago Bears at Soldier Field: The preseason game versus the Redskins would provide fuel for a season that would place fans like myself on a bi-polar swing of dedication.

-Wrigley Field for Cubs game: My fiancé is to thank for shedding her White Sox fan honor to buy near field seats for my birthday and a Cubbie win!

Tomorrow is a Latter Day!

There is no magic formula for appreciating art. The best I can do as a Humanities professor and all around supporter of art is to lead friends, family and readers towards certain interests in disciplines that strike a chord within them. Of these I find musicals are often difficult to get people interested in because of social prejudices on how they are only for certain types of people. However, I have found when teaching of the history of Rock n’ Roll, the musical Memphis works. When paying homage to an American literary legend with the Wizard of Oz, Wicked finds a strong audience. 

Rent changed Broadway and musicals forever, removing the caveat for audiences that only Andrew Lloyd Weber or Rogers & Hammerstein are the only acceptable musicals. One such show that is evident of these changes in bringing art to the masses, especially young audiences, was Avenue Q, written by Robert Lopez. In the crowd for an early showing of Avenue Q were South Park creators and show runners Matt Stone and Trey Parker. In the program Lopez thanked them for being inspirations. Confused and mildly flattered, Stone and Parker asked Lopez after the show the reason for the appreciation. “I never could have made Avenue Q if it wasn’t for you guys making South Park: The movie musical,” Lopez said. “What are you working on next?” Parker asked. “I’m thinking of doing something with Mormons.” Parker and Stone looked at each other, later recalling “Really? So are we!” Over the next seven years, in-between work on South Park and other shows, Lopez and the South Park gods created what I would consider my favorite musical of all time – The Book of Mormon.

Way back on March 19th, my friend Jeff stood in line at the Bank of America Theater in the Loop at midnight for tickets early in the Chicago run of The Book of Mormon. Thanking him to the point of gratitude becoming sour, Ally and I counted the weeks, then days down to when on Sunday, December 23^rd we would be immersed in a musical we had listened to the soundtrack of for over a year. For Broadway geeks like my fiancé Ally, The Book of Mormon was the caviar of productions, having sold out months in advance on Broadway, getting tickets going as high as $400 dollars a show. The first week of the Chicago run brought in ticket sales of 1.4 million dollars! Add to that 9 Tony awards and you have a phenomenon of what Trey Parker said “It’s not South Park – our first thought was, let’s do a really good musical and then weave in our styles.”

Our row A seats in the Mezzanine of the Bank of America Theater (BOAT), provided Ally, myself, Jeff and girlfriend Jamie with a perfect view of the stage and most importantly, visible details of actors. Once the curtains rose, Ally and I strapped ourselves in for a ride through each number we came to memorize and the pleasures of a storyline that moves quite well through both acts. In the first number Hello! a series of doorbell rings lead to white shirt Mormon missionaries pitching their profit Joseph Smith’s word of God, or if you are a doubter, pages of oddly written malarkey. Using a mix of musical counterpoint and comedy, the audience is charmed by the warm, inviting nature of this musical - a good sign of any art form! 

From there we are treated to the tale of 19/20 year old missionaries the perfectionist, overzealous Elder Kevin Price and bumbling fool Elder Arnold Cunningham being teamed up to spend their two years of missionary work in the pit of civilization in war torn Uganda, instead of Price’s preferred destination of Orlando, Florida. In You and Me (Mostly Me) Elder Price belts out his misguided pride in a number that is a direct parody of Wicked’s famous first act closer Defying Gravity. Stone, Parker and Lopez pull no punches with the number Hasa diga Eebowai, a parody of the Lion King’s Hakuna Matata. The village leader comes to describe that Eebowai means “God” and “Hasa diga means – fuck you!” Hang on – the awkwardness gets worse as the numbers and storyline grow in quality. Did you really expect anything different from the creators of South Park and Avenue Q? 

Throughout the show and an unusually strong second act (a rare find in my opinion with musicals) the theater was roaring with laughter, my eyes catching glances of audience members with tears coming down their red cheeks and wide smiles. Vogue Magazine summed it up best by calling the show "the filthiest, most offensive, and—surprise—sweetest thing you’ll see on Broadway this year, and quite possibly the funniest musical ever." There are tender moments with Sal Tlay ka Siti (Salt Lake City) delivered by the village leaders daughter about how her dead mother’s dream of escaping violence and poverty could come true with these missionaries. My favorite number, that has had me in stitches every time, the Africans religious interpretation of Mormonism in Joseph Smith, American Moses is actually a parody of The King and I. Elder Price’s bad dream, Spooky Mormon Hell Dream, highlights the overly dramatized Dante-style guilt of organized religion by placing Kevin Price in hell with dancing demons and fellow dwellers of Hades.

 

Ally and I in all of our giddiness could notice a few disappointed audience members leaving by the start of the second act. This occurrence bothers me for why would you spend good money on great theater and not research the show. A friend of mine who works in Chicago theater calls this “the ignorant, selfish, ‘I got mine, you get yours’ culture of northern Illinois, southern Wisconsin that spits on anything slightly outside of their point-of-view or appropriateness.” Deep down The Book of Mormon, aside from providing long-lasting entertainment, holds indelible messages of believing in one’s self (Elder Cunningham), addressing poverty issues, and the uncommon but fresh conclusion that it doesn’t necessary matter what people believe in as long as it improves their lives and makes a happier, healthier society for all. 

I will return to The Bank of America Theater in 2013 for another showing of The Book of Mormon, all the while swimming in the replay value of the soundtrack. 

The Butcher and the Burger

When the Travel Channel created a one-hour special focusing on nationwide examples of what they and Men’s Health magazine deemed as the ‘Manliest Restaurants’ in America, I could only guess there was to be meat involved – that’s not a euphemism for strip club. One of the featured restaurants was the creative butcher meets high end burger joint on Chicago’s north side called The Butcher and the Burger. Their website boasts the retro diner look and culinary creativity behind the counter as “A dash of old fashioned butcher shop with a pinch of culinary artistry mixed in.” Chef and Partner Allen Sternweiler has brought his touches of American artistry and European influences with the love affair our nation has with burgers but with touches of beignet mix from the south or French coffee cans from a century earlier. With a neighborhood alight with unique storefronts, the white and red color scheme of The Butcher and the Burger slide right into the enclave a few blocks south of DePaul on Armitage Ave. 

My buddy Nick Lamb and I first noticed the touches of Chef Allen on the menu that held emphasis on fresh ingredients, from ten spice rubs they make monthly and sell in take home jars, to the variety of ground meats that are pressed into burgers. The butchering takes place in the room behind the narrow kitchen where they hold two to three butchering and cooking classes a month on hogs, venison, beef, etc. On occasion you might see Chef Allen with a split hog over his shoulder, ribs out for all to see, carrying the local, farm raised animals from loading dock to the kitchen with a few either shocked or anticipating customers. 

There are but a few pre-set burgers on the menu, allowing the customer to mold their own meat Mecca between a soft egg roll, lettuce, croissant or Nick’s choice, the pretzel roll. Their specialty is a house local beef blend, which I chose with Chicago steakhouse seasoning and the dutifully prepared accompaniments of truffle mayo, goat cheese lettuce, tomato, and farmhouse bacon. Honestly I was a bit disappointed the elk meat wasn’t on the menu. Be prepared for when seasonal meats won’t be there. Not to worry for there are also burgers for every animal, from salmon to bison to pork. The variety lends repeat visits, aside from the quality of the burger. 

With a basket of house cut fries that were a tad on the salty side and I dove into my burger presented with a bamboo skewer on top of a small cutting board. A great char was present on both our burgers, not diminishing the quality of the blend. The chefs and helpful staff whom directly engaged with Nick over his minute specificity into the complete meal somehow know that with the hundred or so burger and topping combinations that they seem to meld into a delectable union.

The Lincoln Park crowd is unlikely to think twice on the close to twenty dollar price tag of my burger and fries; I will. Still, a return visit is set in 2013 because of their uniqueness and quality. For a fan who has attempted to master burgers on the grill in the summer and in the pan at winter, The Butcher and the Burger will make me elevate my game at home. 

 http://butcherandtheburger.com/

A German, by the way of Chicago, Christmas

We move from one tradition to another. In the unseasonably warm weather of early December this year Ally and I decided to embark upon an annual event that graces Daley Plaza in Chicago – the Christkindlmart. This German Christmas festival, set around the stone plaza as Picasso’s Cubist iron sculpture holds watch, was created almost twenty years ago in homage to the Christmas festivals of Nuremburg and Munich in the foothills of the Bavarian ranges. One does not have to be a Christian, mildly Christian, another faith, or a secularist like myself, to enjoy the seasonal festivities. 

Last Saturday Ally and I emerged to the city hum and gray sky from our Metra train stop at Ogilvie station. We tightened our jackets with the five degree drop, being closer to the lake, and set our hearts down Randolph streets to the candy stripped tents of the Christkindlmart. Though a crowd I was expected, wall-to-wall madness ensued, often times resulting in human traffic jams akin to rush hour disasters on a Friday night in Chicago. The slight phobia I have developed of massive crowds and noise from all directions was held at bay. Those scents of roasted almonds in caramel and amaretto sauce and sugars were too powerful, as well the brimming pots of mulled wine. Loudspeakers carried out the hum of Frank Sinatra, carolers chanting Handel’s Messiah, and my personal favorite, The Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack by the Vince Guaraldi Trio. 

Each stand is wooden box, set into each other, covered by the tented roof. They are familiar friends year after year where you can once again say hello to the German honey vendors, Coo-coo clocks, ornate glass ornaments and the Irish stand with knit woolen sweaters. Purchasing our supply of chocolates from the German chocolate hut containing European only delicacies, Ally and I waited our way through two ornament shops, our eyes peeled for unique creations for our first tree together. We had a brief respite with Ally’s annual sauerkraut, which after twenty or so forkfuls has your tummy re-acting to the vinegar and caraway seeds. The simple potato pancakes, fried up and served with sides of applesauce and sour cream, are out of this world good. That likely though speaks to my desires for hearty meals and the half of my heritage that hails from northern Bavaria in Germany before the 1880’s trip to America. 

How can one be a humbug in the sight of such cultural gatherings that leave us with romantic feelings instead of cynicism in our hearts? I have a feeling the Christkindlmart will be there to greet me with many years to come as Ally and I will one day have children of our own to take for a bite of sausage and choice of what trinkets we will hang on the tree. We have already started the collection. 

 http://www.christkindlmarket.com/en/

Giving Thanks-giving to an eroding holiday

We share in a unique and secular American holiday. Thanksgiving is a day where all of us join with family and friends in what seems to be the embodiment of what Norman Rockwell painted in his Freedom from Want as part of the Four Freedoms series – loved ones, and occasionally despised at some circumstances, gathered around a table to say grace if needs be, speak for their thankfulness and dig into a gut busting meal of turkey and all the sides. 

The time has passed where tradition was simpatico with Thanksgiving. Every year since I was a little boy my family and I gathered at my Grandparents house in Lake Forest. The taller we Grandchildren grew, the smaller the walls became and the more often we moseyed around that cramped space by the table in the basement to get another serving. With age my Grandmother became too tired to accomplish such a massive culinary undertaking. Even before my Grandfather passed away we shared the duties of Thanksgiving between my Mom and Dad’s house and my Aunt Carol and Uncle Terry’s. As we hopefully evolve in life, so do slight changes to tradition. The Thanksgiving I spent in Ireland was unique in many ways being away from family. I and other American friends wished to take some stateside tradition to Limerick and share with our foreign buddies. Around low tables we shared far too much wine, potatoes (in Ireland – get out!) and turkey, eventually falling into a coma of a slumber. 

This year I am spending Thanksgiving at Aunt Beverly’s house, Ally’s oldest aunt. The exchange is to spending Thanksgiving with her family and Christmas with mine.  Though as I have grown to become more of what my Department Chair at Harper called a ‘secular humanist’, even the religious insignificance to me of Christmas was replaced by the joy of the holiday season.

What I do not appreciate is creeping capitalism of what was once a religious Christmas making its way into the secular Thanksgiving. We as American’s have bought into the invasion of a national holiday created by President Roosevelt in 1943 to be shared by us all, not a specific group for their significant religious holidays. Why can Thanksgiving be usurped by early black Friday door busters of 8pm and 10pm at major chain stores nationwide? If Christmas was invaded in such a manner, would there be an uproar or silence with the knowledge “that’s the way things go!” I wonder if we spent as much time stimulating the mall and the corporate chain beast as we do with what are better paying jobs with lasting results in manufacturing, education and infrastructure, would we be the country that returns to the table instead of in lines at the wee hours of the morning? Values lay where we spend our money. There is no shame in buying that Smartphone or designer shirt but at what cost to tradition? 

I am thankful and fortunate for many things in my life and proactive for future endeavors as many of us are. This Thanksgiving as the tryptophan from that succulent dark and white turkey breast kicks in and mingles with the wine and cranberry sauce, I will sit back with an arm around a loved one, watching football and perhaps sneaking in a nap– a change, yes, but tradition remains. 

Freedom from Want - Norman Rockwell