Flat-Top Grill (AKA: Fat Fest 2.0)

When a circle of friends retains an inside joke it is because the sheer hilarity of the original circumstance holds so much comedic weight that the joke’s replay value is seemingly endless whilst consistent in alienating outsiders. This is true with the idea of the Fat Fest. Nick and I once considered visits to high-end all you can eat restaurants as gluttonous journeys into a culinary netherworld. “Getting Fat!” or “Fast Fest – insert version” has become a brand name when we and a few choice others knowingly submit our digestive system to a once in a blue moon treasured occasion of imbibing copious amounts of steak and pasta. Whilst the results the very next day might leave you sectioning spare time for the lavatory, the secret of Fat Fest is that you know the saturated fat journey was worth the price and endless plates.

One such place that imbibes this Fat Fest mantra is Flat-Top Grill.  With the majority of their locations in the upper Midwest, the multiple Southeast Asian themed create-your-own stir-fry restaurants pull you to their front windows like Ralphie at the department store window in A Christmas Story. Just beyond the window, tireless line cooks fry up your order on an extra large rectangular flat-top that emanate steam like a sauna. They flip bowls and delicious roti bread as if they are trying to replicate scenes from Cocktail. Don’t pat yourselves too much on the back with your stir-fry creation for cooking it to perfection is the line cook’s job over a thousand times a day. 

Once you sit down, you and others will take a numbered stick and write your names on them. These sticks will be placed into your bowl which you will proceed to load up with rice, noodles, vegetables, sauces and meats. The true pleasure comes in the variety of mix and match opportunities with the sixteen odd vegetables and sauces. If you are lost on what to choose, you can take in a sample in a disposable paper cup or get a helping hand from the Flat-Top employee who knows what flavors blend to your tastes. Since I chose to go with the unlimited bowl for $14.99, I first chose a combination of teriyaki and a creamy horseradish tofu sauce. At night the meat station holds beef, pork, chicken, calamari, whitefish and Philippine sausage. I’d stay away from shellfish at a buffet, considering the time it would sit out and the sloppiness of fellow patrons turning the stations into a mess reminiscent of a Jackson Pollock painting. 

Once all combined in a bowl, with the smaller added bowl of meats on top, you place your order on the prep counter near the flat top. Flat-Top can be overrun, especially like at the one Ally and I sat at in downtown Evanston where Northwestern students didn’t sniff at the opportunity to gorge themselves at a decent price. Flat-Top is also quite conscious of service and accommodating various food allergies, a concern likely as well from their legal department. Behind the long buffet set up is a floor to ceiling chalkboard listing what not to eat if you have certain allergies that a few ten year kids I saw understood what not to mix and match if you don’t want to bust out the EpiPen. 

Another great feature is that if you get the unlimited bowl and cannot leave behind what you stomach is saying to stop shoving into it, they will only charge you $2.50 more to take home the remainders. My suggestion is to create a heaping bowl with all the fix-ins and then fake being full after a few bites, thus having multitudes of fat fest deliciousness waiting for you at tomorrow’s lunch. Considering the price and the accommodating atmosphere, Flat-Top Grill cannot be passed up, especially if you pass by their front window with a rumbling tummy.

http://flattopgrill.com/index.html

New Years Special: Eve and Day restaurants

I wasted no time as the clock began on 2013 on getting into two restaurants I had never been. On New Year’s Eve, our softball group and their wives/girlfriends arranged a fifteen person dinner at Tuscany on Route 21 in Wheeling. Would this massive eatery, meshed with Wildfire and Maggiano’s style decorations be original enough to separate itself from lookalike knockoffs? 

I felt ancient having dinner at Tuscany at 6pm on New Year’s Eve, maybe because the majority of the diners around us at first were Medicare card carriers. As the two hour dinner rolled on, families and people our late 20’s/early 30’s age populated the massive space. With a large party on an expected busy night, there were wait times for food that took about the average expected time. What stymied many of us was having sat down at 6 is that we didn’t take our order until almost 6:40. Tuscany seemed to be one of those places you’d need a NASCAR checkered flag to catch the attention of your waiter. 

Ally and I realized the sixty we set aside for dinner might not cover the both of us. Our group didn’t hesitate to have our eyes widen at the thirty to fifty dollar average price on the New Year’s special menu, only to then go for the high teen’s prices. Ally was right in reminding me to leave my preconceived prejudice aside of this Italian eatery, wrestling down that half-Italian blood of mine until our plates were wiped clean. 

The special occasion called for an order of filleto – a filet mignon, cooked just under medium. Being a tender steak with a horseradish topper and a dynamic burgundy red wine glaze on the edge of the plate, the dish passed the first test. Ally’s veal medallions were in fact not rounded slices but pounded down into strips like tenderloin or skirt steak. Veal shouldn’t be tough as these were, probably from the meat tightening up in a high heat pan or grill. Her squares of polenta, fresh with grill marks, had a soft crunch on the outside while still preserving the creamy cornmeal within. A few friends had the lasagna, which I contemplated. By their run of the mill reactions to oily lasagna I spent a bit more for quality and the gamble paid off. 

On New Year’s Day, Ally and I had the pleasure of being treated to lunch by her father at Tokio Pub, next to Shaw’s Crab House at the Streets of Woodfield in Schaumburg. Wearing sunglasses to avoid the glaze of the sun to our numb brains, there was nothing better to treat a New Year’s hangover than to keep drinking - with a side of noodles and broth. Tokio Pub resembled a hybrid of Japanese sushi-houses and new age restaurateurs injecting wood walls painted black, Latin American/Korean and Japanese food, with the occasionally Japanese calligraphy scrawled on the walls. Don’t know if you’ve ever thought this but some Americans tend to show ignorance to foreign words, thinking they are all beautiful and exotic as they line their bodies with tattoos and walls with Far East phrases. For all we know the walls could have read, “Eat somewhere else!” or “Fuck you, fat American.” Luckily the food proved the establishment’s worth.

Being again in a large group of her Dad’s friends and Ally’s brother, half the table by sheer interest took on my suggestion to order what was a legitimate bowl of ramen in broth. Happy to play the teacher (can’t help that) to Ally’s brother and letting him know that bulk buy ramen is in fact not the real deal, I took pleasure in seeing his and others faces light up by the quality of the dish, as if they realized this is what ramen is supposed to taste like instead of college-level poverty and high sodium. The smooth broth, flecked with the flavor of the green onions and dynamite strong peppers, was wonderful. They even put out the sizzle I felt on my lips and the back of my throat from the peppers I thought to chew than swallow. The breaded and fried pieces of fish floating at the top melted evenly with the noodles that were dense enough to pick up with chopsticks. Ally and the rest enjoyed multiple rounds of the one day special of dollar mini tacos, which had just a twinge of Asian influences on the Mexican dish. Impressed enough, I can guarantee I might even order out or pay another visit in these cold months!