Eating My Feelings: Ann Sather

July 3, 2019

Some feelings are best ingested first thing in the morning. The shame of watching your Snapchat story from the club. Regret from sending that late night text. Knowing that life is meaningless and whatever minor "successes" you may achieve in the eyes of your peers ultimately mean nothing and leave you empty because material goods have never brought long-term joy to mankind so then you start to reevaluate why you're even alive.

Lol, jk, I'm fine, thanks.

I SAID I'M FINE.

So breakfast, huh? Or brunch, as everyone under 35 calls it. Ann Sather. Let's do it.

SPOT: Ann Sather has a few locations, but the Belmont location is easily the best (and the original). The unassuming restaurant sits just yards from the Belmont red line stop, making it far too convenient for me to stuff myself on a regular basis.

Once inside, you’re greeted by a glass display case of various home-baked goods. Brownies, sweet muffins, breads, and of course, the pièce de résistance: cinnamon rolls. More on this later. Just before you're tempted to reach towards the case for a passionate embrace, you're seated.

The dining room is cramped. There can't be more than 18" of space between any two tables. At some point, the restaurant was expanded to the storefront next door and filled to an equally claustrophobic coziness. The walls are hand-painted in traditional Swedish art and what I guess are Swedish idioms as well as Ann's slogan, "Good food, good friends, and good conversation." There's no music to speak of, just the soft roar of conversation and forks on plates. The occasional “FUCK” erupts from the kitchen. I think it's just one guy, and I'm pretty sure it's the short guy with the slicked-back hair and faded tribal tattoo. Oh, and the skittering busboy who quietly sings Mighty Mouse to himself as he fills your water or wipes down tables.

"HERE I COME TO SAVE THE DAY."

Photo Source: Interwebs Does anyone know who Mighty Mouse is anymore?

*fills coffee. leaves*

VIBES: If you show up at 10am on a Saturday, then you're a fool, and you get what you deserve: an hour wait. But. If you get there even 15 minutes earlier, the same fuck-screaming host with lots of hair gel will tell you to sit "over there." This is one of my favorite parts of this place; the waitstaff has a very European-feel to them. Not overly friendly and sickly sweet, but polite-ish and attentive. I love that. I don't want to talk about my weekend or have you call me hun, just bring me dem cinnamon rolls ASAP. And they've got shit to do! I've never seen that restaurant not packed.

The menus double as placemats and napkins are paper. If you're looking for a quiet, chill, bougie brunch spot with bottomless mimosas, this is not the place for you. Seems like a good time to mention that it's BYOB, though I've never seen anyone bring in booze. I think the energy of the place pushes people to eat and leave, not sit around for four hours talking about nothing, which is lovely because that's my worst nightmare.

GRUB: If you know me at all (which you probably do because I'm pretty sure only my dad and my ex-boyfriend read this blog), then you could probably guess what I order at this place.

I get the Southern Decadence.

Freshly-baked biscuits. Topped with sausage gravy. With perfectly poached eggs.

It's everything a hungover sad person could want out of breakfast. Or even just a sad person. Or probably anyone. The biscuits are light and fluffy, perfectly cooked and piping hot. The gravy is thick and flavorful with a generous amount of sausage (giggity). The eggs are just eggs. But. Expertly poached each time.

I would argue that the best part of this place is that every entree comes with two sides. I usually go with the "hash browns", which I put in quotes because they're Swedish hash browns, which are boiled potatoes that are thrown into a skillet to brown slightly before being served. Don't get your hopes up for the traditional grated hash or home fries, cuz ur gunna be diss-appointed. Still good though… just different. Like a cross between a baked potato and a home fry.

But the real treasure here? The cinnamon rolls.

Photo Source: My shitty iPhone. Look at these glorious buns. Good lord.

Sweet, but not too sweet. Strong cinnamon flavor. Slathered in sweet, runny frosting. Made the night before in-house. Frosted right before they head to your table.

They're perfect.

I've searched the city far and wide for a better cinnamon roll, but truly nothing compares. You know how losers who are in love say, "they're my person"? That's how I feel about these rolls. They are my person.

****LIFE HACK - LIFE HACK - LIFE HACK****

YOU CAN GET CINNAMON ROLLS AS BOTH OF YOUR SIDES.

A WHOLE RAFT OF CINNAMON ROLLS. EAT YOUR FEELINGS FOR HOURS.

FUN SHIT: Cinnamon rolls. BYOB. Mighty Mouse.

FEELINGS INGESTED: You know that feeling when you wake up feeling great and you do a big morning stretch and let out a giant yawn and then, like the doors in The Shining, all of the embarrassing things you've ever done, the trauma you've endured, the weight of your life's choices come crashing into your brain and you stare at the ceiling as you slowly drown?

The cinnamon rolls help a little.

OVERALL: Sometimes a tourist-y place is tourist-y for a reason. Start your day with a giant bomb of delicious starches and sugars to feel a moment of joy FOR ONCE.

Please note that I am in no way a qualified food critic. I'm picky and boring and really like cheeseburgers. Take my opinions with several grains of sea salt.

Haiku Reviews: "Let's Pretend This Never Happened" by Jenny Lawson

June 7, 2019

Lots of taxidermy talk
Social anxiety sucks
Long rambling sentences

Eating My Feelings: Public House

May 13, 2019

It seemed appropriate to post this on a Tuesday, as it was a Tuesday many months ago that I fell deeply in love with the subject of this post.

It's no secret that I love garbage food, or as some people call it, "comfort food.” Or as nutritionists call it "plates full of heart disease and death wishes.”

My favorite death wish is the burger. Simple, warm, delicious. Like pair of high-heeled Crocs, a burger can be dressed up or down depending on the mood, but sexy either way.

Photo Credit: The best part of the internet.

If you told me a year ago that my favorite Crocs and I would be waltzing into a sports bar once a week I probably would've said, "is there a super good burger deal there?"

It'd be a pretty short, intuitive conversation. Point is, this post is about burgers.

SPOT: Public House is a sports bar in the heart of River North. The place is sprawling with two bars, lots of high top tables and a set of reservable event tables in the back that have taps at the table. I've always been curious as to how those work... is it booze by the hour? Do they track how much you've poured? Is it frowned upon to put your mouth directly under the tap?

Naturally, there are tons of big screen TVs showing whatever boring sports ball happens to be playing that night. A state of the art sound system blares top-40 hits over the chatter. And by state of the art I mostly just mean super loud.

Up in the top right of this photo are the weird tap tables. This is only one half of the restaurant, by the way. The other half includes a 360 bar and 800 more televisions. Photo Credit: Internet

Oh, also, there’s a DJ booth? Not sure why… I’ve never seen it in use, but maybe it turns into a dance club after hours.

Fun fact*: Public House is the room service provider for the Kinzie Hotel next door, which I think is a brilliant partnership for both. The Kinzie doesn't have to have a kitchen dedicated to room service, and Public House gets the added business from the hotel. High five, guys.

*Fun fact brought to you by my dad, who excitedly told me this fact four times when they came to visit and stayed at the Kinzie.

VIBES: To reiterate, Public House is a sports bar in the heart of River North, and it fully fulfills all of those stereotypes. The muscly bartenders are one vigorous martini shake away from Hulking out of their t-shirts (Were they out of larges? Not complaining, I don’t mind the view.), and most of the wait staff look like beautiful extras from a P90X video. I try not to make eye contact as I shove what must be 900 calories-worth of burger into my face. They all seem to be pretty friendly and will bring more napkins to the table while politely averting their eyes.

Wait staff vs. me Photo Credit: Internet

Something to note is that this place ALWAYS seems to have an event happening, meaning lots of tables are adorned with tiny reserved signs at prime dining hours. The bar is always first-come-first-serve, though, and I’ve found that if you hover behind a business boy who’s saddled up to the bar long enough, he’ll get uncomfortable enough to give up his seat.

GRUB: “Loud? Crowded? Sports? Lauren, I thought you hated all those things!” You’re right, human reading this, I do hate all of those things. So why I have I gone once a week for nearly four months?

The burger.

More specifically, the burger deal.

Each day of the week features a different special. Monday is cheesesteaks, Wednesday is tacos, but Tuesday… Tuesday is burger night.

Two beef patties topped with American cheese, lettuce, tomato, onion, pickle and garlic mayo nestled in a Hawaiian sesame bun. My god.

BUT WAIT… There’s more.

With this beautiful burger comes a mountain of crispy french fries and a Goose Island Green IPA.

And all of this. The burger. The fries. AND a pint of Chicago beer. Can be yours. For $10.

Ten US dollars.

Forty quarters.

Five two dollar bills.

I’ve been to restaurants in River North where I’ve paid $10 for each of those items individually (Yeah, one time I accidentally ordered a $12 beer. I don’t want to talk about it.), but on Tuesday… it’s all $10.

Now, this is an excellent deal in ANY city. My favorite burger night in Cincinnati was also $10, but didn’t include a beer. On any other night at Public House, this meal would cost you $22, which is about what I’d expect to spend on a sports bar dinner, but on TUESDAYS? $10.

Not only is this an amazing deal, the food is incredible. I’m almost mad to say it, since it’s a sports bar but it’s SO good. The burger is my favorite in the city. Probably top 5 of all time, too. The patties are cooked to perfection; juicy and delicious with melted American cheese spilling over the sides. An important detail that makes all the difference: The lettuce is shredded, which is how lettuce should be on a burger. Sure, it makes it a little messier, but it provides an actual texture difference that one leaf of wilted iceberg does not. The bun is soft but structured enough to hold together through the entire caveman-like experience, and the garlic mayo adds a subtle richness throughout.

Up close and personal with the burger deal. Mostly because I'm too self conscious about looking like an annoying millennial taking pictures of my stupid food, but here I am writing about it, so. There's that. Photo Credit: My shitty iPhone

This amazing burger experience is topped off with some of the best French fries I’ve ever had. Crispy, light, well-seasoned French fries that aren’t too thin (I’m looking at you “shoestring” fries) and aren’t too thick (Wedges are an exception to the too thick rule.). You can upgrade to parmesan garlic fries, dry rubbed fries or sweet potato tots for an upcharge, but I’m a traditionalist. Don’t fix it if it ain’t broke, or whatever.

I will admit, it took some time for me to be on board with the Green Line. I’ve never been a huge IPA fan, but after several weeks, I have been Stockholm-ed into believing that it’s a great beer for this meal. It really is a well-balanced IPA, and while I probably wouldn’t throw a bunch back in another bar, the slight bitterness cuts through the rich flavors of the burger quite nicely.

Here's a much prettier version of a burger from Public House, though it's not the $10 Tuesday deal. This one looks like it's got chicken and some sort of fancy sauce. Still. You get it. ALSO... look at those fries. Photo Credit: Public House website

I have eaten exactly 0 other menu items and likely never will. I have also exclusively visited Public House on Tuesdays, and it’s unlikely that that will ever change. I mean… unless they move burger night.

FUN SHIT: If you make it through the burger deal and STILL have room left in what must be your gigantic stomach, they have cake shakes. Cake. Shakes. Boozy milkshakes/floats with an actual slice of cake on top. I’ve yet to be sad enough to order one, but I’m sure my day will come.

It’s only a matter of time.

FEELINGS INGESTED: Sometimes I hold onto feelings through the weekend just so I can eat more of them on burger Tuesdays. Totally worth it.

OVERALL: Amazing, delicious burger deal. 10/10 will eat again. Probably tonight. Probably as long as I live in Chicago.

Please note that I am in no way a qualified food critic. I'm picky and boring and really like cheeseburgers. Take my opinions with several grains of sea salt.

Haiku Reviews: "People I Want to Punch in the Throat" by Jen Mann

May 11, 2019

this book really sucked
she calls her husband "*The Hubs*"
suburban life is hard

Eating My Feelings: Smylie Brother's Brewing

April 12, 2019

Friends of mine know that I have a soft spot for two things: dogs and barbecue.

And I have very strong feelings about both (Pugs are the worst and North Carolina style > South Carolina, Memphis styles, for the record.).

When I heard about Smylie Brother's Brewing, I was cautiously optimistic. A brewery? With pizza? AND BARBECUE? Three of my favorite feeling stiflers under one roof? It must be too good to be true.

Spoiler: It wasn't.

SPOT: Smylie is located in the northern suburb of Evanston, a diverse area full of college students and young families. The purple line will get you within two blocks of Smylie, but I enjoy the scenic 20-minute drive up along Lake Michigan. On my last trip up, the leaves were in their full autumn glory. Pretty neat.

The building itself is huge with an interesting mix of architectural styles. There's a patio outside and a second floor with fireplaces and couches that was housing a private 40th birthday party for a nice lady named Jill, according to the closing line of "Happy Birthday." There are two bars, one that sits in front of the brewery portion of the building and another with an imposing open-fire oven for their pizzas.

VIBES: For as open as the space is, it feels cozy. Like you're having barbecue in a really fancy barn/warehouse. A barehouse. A warn. There are families, Jill's group of rowdy over-the-hillers, younger folks out with friends; it's almost like all kinds of people enjoy delicious BBQ. The staff are all well educated on the beers and menu and are pretty attentive (Note: Much less attentive at the bar, which is fair, I guess. She's got shit to do.).

GRUB: Full disclosure, I have not had the pizza. And I'll tell you why. The first time I went, I was really craving barbecue. Since I've gone back, I've been so excited to eat those delicious meats again that I've never even thought to order a pizza. That's how good the meats are.

The first time I went, a friend and I split the Barbecue Flight, which featured a quarter rack of ribs, brisket pulled pork, slices of white bread and a side (we chose mac & cheese) all served on an industrial baking tray with parchment.

I do have a picture of the platter we got, but I was trying to take it sneakily and the flash went off and I panicked and it was blurry, so just enjoy this more staged version and laugh and my shame. Photo Credit: Smylie's website

Now, let me preface by saying I'm not a big fan of brisket or ribs due to the potential fattiness and messiness, but I would eat both of these forever from Smylie. The ribs were tender and smokey, and the meat fell right off the bone. The brisket was lean and flavorful without being dry. And obviously, the pulled pork is out of this world. I have absolutely no complaints about any part of it, other than I wish I would've had room for twice as much.

Also, can we just... can we just talk about the mac & cheese? My lord. My heart. The cheese is sharp and smooth, the perfect consistency to stick to the noodles without getting that weird, solid-brick-of-noodles-and-cheese thing going. The shell style noodles are the perfect vessel to hold the creamy sauce. The whole dish is topped with a panko-parmesan crust that adds delicious texture and flavor to this already perfect side.

Look. Look at that delicious art. Photo Credit: My shitty iPhone

And THEN? AND THEN?! Getting to wash down all this deliciousness with a well-balanced, flavorful beer? COME ON. WHAT A GREAT DAY. I've had an IPA, a red ale and a farmhouse at Smylie and they were all delicious.

FUN SHIT: YOU CAN GET BARBECUE. BY THE FLIGHT. AND you can get pizza AND BBQ under the same roof! This place is genius.

FEELINGS INGESTED: I ate all of my feelings and then texted my ex so I'd have even more feelings to ingest.

OVERALL: 10/10 recommend. Who needs feelings when you can have BBQ?

Please note that I am in no way a qualified food critic. I'm picky and boring and really like cheeseburgers. Take my opinions with several grains of sea salt.

Eating My Feelings: Saint Lou's Assembly

February 8, 2019

Moving to Chicago has been one of the best decisions both my gut AND my stomach have ever made. Eating My Feelings is a series I plan on doing that highlights some of the delicious places I've tried while ignoring, basking/wallowing in, or celebrating my feelings by packing my face full of delicious calories.* Sure it's not healthy, but like a wise man once said, "I'm here for a good time, not a long time."

Drake. It was Drake.

Drake has certainly eaten his share of feelings. #rihanna #toosoon

The inaugural entry? My current favorite spot in the city: Saint Lou's Assembly.

SPOT: Saint Lou's Assembly is on Lake, under the pink and green line trains. If you're heading from the east, it's pretty unassuming. Just an old brick building with a yellow sign and a sandwich board. If you're coming from the west, however, it's a little less subtle as they've painted the four-story length of the building next door Big Bird yellow. It's dope, though. It's totally fitting of what Lou's is all about: Fuck you, we make good food and we don't need to impress you.

Photo Credit: Dan Blackman & Clayton Hauck

The interior is a 50's-style diner with exposed brick and rows of booths and tables. There are touches of the past everywhere: old photos on the walls, retro arcade games, and an old-timey candy station. It's pretty dope. I will say, I've been here a handful of times now in all sorts of weather, and I've never seen a person sit inside. I'm beginning to wonder if the inside is just for show.

There's a cool indoor/outdoor patio space, too. The first time I visited it was the last warm day of the fall (apparently) and the patio was uncovered. Picnic tables and high tops were full of young professionals, and the fire pits were going. There's a full bar back there, with drinks being slung by a ginger-biker dude with a handlebar mustache/beard who definitely owns a Harley and has maybe done some hard time.

VIBES: This is a cool place. Could totally work as a second date spot or just a casual hang with friends. A lot of the staff are, you know, "uppity"... like maybe you've inconvenienced them by coming in, but you've just gotta power through the grump.

GRUB: Awwwwww yiiiissss. I tried the Foie & Biscuits as well as the Beef Tartare. And holy shit. They were both incredible. The foie (shitty photo below) was creamy AF. The biscuits were perfect. Fluffy. Sweet, but not too sweet. And with the apple preserves? Damn. What a beautiful balance. The sweet of the apple and the biscuit combined with the creamy, salty heaven that is foie gras? Dear Lord.

The tartare was equally life-changing. Quality meat, delicious chimichurri flavors of garlic and onion and pepper. Jesus. And THEN... putting that delicious shit on tostones? Girl, I'll be honest, I didn't have the first clue as to what a tostone was. Turns out they're fried, smashed plantains. Twice. Shiiiiiit. So fucking good. The soft, salty flavor mixed with those meats. Ugh. UGH.

FUN SHIT: There's a special on Wednesday that consists of four pieces of delicious looking fried chicken, two biscuits and a bottle of champagne for $39. Spoiler: That's a pretty good deal. And while I didn't order it due to my complete lack of friends, it did look/smell fucking delicious. Thursdays they do s'mores around the fire pits. Cute.

Money Gun is also attached to this little gem, which is a speakeasy cocktail bar. But that's for another time.

FEELINGS INGESTED: All of 'em. At least 12 hours of residual contentment.

OVERALL: I could eat my feelings here for the rest of my life. Highly recommend that you do the same.

*It should be noted that I am in no way a qualified food critic. I'm picky and boring and really like cheeseburgers. So. Take my opinions with several grains of sea salt.