Where everybody knows your name

Growing up, I learned the ins and out of city living from watching TV sitcoms. My TV taught me that every city dweller had:

1. One token quirky, funny friend

2. An amazing job for which they weren’t qualified

3. A hangout to spend time away from the job for which they weren’t qualified

My TV was half right. I don’t know anyone who landed their dream job automatically (or anyone who has their dream job, for that matter). But quirky and funny are two traits I require in friends, and it is quite common for people to frequent the same coffee joints, restaurants or bars.

The closest we’ve come to our Central Perk, Monk’s Cafe or Cheers was a kitschy bar in Lakeview called Holiday Club. No one knew our names at Holiday Club, but we certainly spent a lot of time there—and a lot of money on beer.

Though not technically a hangout, a shop in my neighborhood called A. Vision has started to feel like one. It’s a unique retail concept that pairs fine wine with flowers. Owners Marta and Maria are lovely people who know everyone in the neighborhood and will pull up a seat for you, pour a splash of wine and listen to you celebrate or lament the events of the day. Moving into the neighborhood, I quickly learned about the free wine tastings on Fridays. And that the worst of days can be turned around by an incredible bottle of wine and some flowers. I know if I was wining and dining a lady for Valentine’s Day, I’d pay them a visit. (Is my husband reading this?)

Recently, I hosted the infamous Wine Club at A. Vision. The gracious owners even had one of their knowledgeable wine reps pour at the tasting. An evening of friends and delicious wine? Yes, please.

Creative by proximity

There’s nothing quite as creatively inspiring than being around people who are creative and inspiring. This notion manifested while attending The Interview Show hosted by Mark Bazer at The Hideout last night. I was bewitched by the talent, creativity, passion and boldness of each guest.

Someone needs to explain to me why had I never been to The Interview Show before. The topics discussed—local food, indie music, comedy and err…Chicago politics—are all things I usually can get behind. (Well, the Chicago politics part is questionable.) And the very talented writer Dave Reidy has even been a guest on The Interview Show. Still puzzled over here.

Highlights from last night’s show:

Paul Kahan, Executive Chef, Blackbird, Avec, The Publican and Big Star

I’m embarrassed to admit that I haven’t dined at any of Paul Kahan’s restaurants yet, but I imagine that his approachability and easygoing demeanor permeate each one. I respect that Kahan falls into the camp of local restaurant owners and chefs who strive to take the pretension out of fine dining. Which is why I’ve been dying to go to Big Star just down the street. From what I’ve heard, there are many reasons there is always a line out the door, namely cheap gourmet street food and an impressive drink menu that runs the gamut from Schlitz to craft beers. Taking over the former Pontiac Cafe space, Kahan said he and his business partner felt obligated to cater to the neighborhood or else face “a hipster revolt” in which he imagined “kids on fixed-gear bikes” chasing him down. Kahan also had a funny story about cooking for culinary legends Charlie Trotter, Gord0n Ramsey and two other world-renowned chefs.

Rob Miller and Nan Warsaw, Founders and Owners, Bloodshot Records

The Blacks, band

Rob Miller and Nan Warsaw are examples of two people who found a way to turn their passion into a living. They joked that, initially, they were DJs who started a label as way to get into shows for free. The label eventually turned into a success and family of sorts. And they’ve had the opportunity to represent, champion and mentor acts who are now big names, including Ryan Adams and Neko Case.

After the interview, a band on the label The Blacks performed. Named after bandmates Danny Black and Gina Black, The Blacks have an enjoyable blues/country/rock sound that’s made even more eclectic by Gina Black’s haunting, soulful Lucinda Williams-esque voice. Miller and Warsaw looked on the performance like two proud parents.

Also performing was Dominizuelan, a sketch comedy group with a funny, oh-too-real depiction of Wrigleyville girls. Host Mark Bazer was also really funny and guided the show with perfect cadence. I particularly enjoyed his letter to the man who stole his wife’s iPhone on the CTA. Funny stuff.

The Hideout Show and its smart, funny guests inspired me to want to exploit my own passions and start writing again. I hope to pick this up again when schedule permits. And vow not to use fuzzy iPhone images.

Reason we live in Chicago #5: Ridiculously good food

Whenever the possibility of leaving Chicago flashes through my mind, the thought that comes in my head first (right after the one about leaving my Chicago friends behind) is:

There would be a hole in my heart and stomach where food used to be.

I am spoiled. There is almost every culinary delight imaginable within a five-block radius. For instance:

Cuisines: Greek, Italian, Thai, Japanese, fancy Japanese, Mexican, fancy Mexican, Middle Eastern.

Foods: Greek fries, pizza, pasta, sushi, veggie tacos, freshly made guacamole, veggie sandwiches, chilaquiles, spicy hummus, falafel, greasy diner food, bar food, bakeries, frozen kefir, gelato, brunchity brunch, McDonald’s, hot dogs.

You may recall that I took a solemn vow against dining out in an effort to save money in 2010. ‘Tis true. But I figured since the anniversary of my birth was this past weekend, it may be cause for exception and celebration. After all, what better way to celebrate getting a little older than by getting a little fatter?

Keep your Tums handy.

Here’s a look at all the food I’ve eaten the past few days:

Tac Quick

Friday: Dinner.

Liz, Sunya, Russ, Joe and I headed to one of the old Lakeview haunts before the benefit for Haiti at The Spot. I don’t miss the neighborhood per se, but I dream about the foods I used to eat. Like this. Joe’s Pad Thai is playing proxy to my entree. I actually ate Pad Khee Mao. I forgot my camera, and the lighting was too low for the iPhone to capture its deliciousness.

Jam

Saturday morning: Brunch.

I have a crush on Jam. I hadn’t been there in a while, so when my pal Sarah suggested brunch, this was the first destination proposed. They always serve a little treat before the meal…this time it was a tiny, chocolate-coated, banana-creme pastry that melted in the mouth. Tres yum.

When choosing meals from the menu, Sarah and I were overstimulated by the amount of tastiness, so we decided to order two different entrees and split them. I chose the Spanish Omelet (middle) with chorizo, roasted peppers, melted onions and garrotxa cheese. Sarah order the Egg Sandwich (bottom) with pork cheek, ricotta and pickled plums on French bollo. Both came with fingerling potatoes, and neither dish disappointed.

Spring

Saturday night: Dinner

I hadn’t heard much about Spring before Joe suggested this restaurant as the site for ringing in my 28th year. My belly is still thanking him for the abundance of flavors that slow danced together that night.

We started the meal with the Creamy-Spicy Yellowtail Roll that was served with a tasty wasabi-creme fraiche dipping sauce. Since I’m only eating meat a few times a week these days, I ordered the well-balanced Roasted Sweet Potato Potstickers with bok choy, carrots and light broth. Amazing. For dessert, we ordered the chocolate dome cake, filled with pumpkin cake and chocolate mousse. Ridiculous.

Also ridiculous is the use of flash…one of the seven deadly sins of food photography. It was really dark in there, though.

Andrea’s dining room

Sunday: All day

My friends threw me a sleepless sleepover for my birthday. It was a yoga pants-filled, adult version of a slumber party. Much cake eating, nail painting and trashy TV watching occurred. And, man did we eat. Dre baked homemade chocolate cupcakes with butterscotch and peanut butter chip filling. Megan brought the Jeanine cake (sp?) from A Taste of Heaven in Andersonville. Cake is not even my favorite dessert, but the layers of white cake, blueberries, strawberries, raspberries mingling with the perfectly sweetened icing kill me. Casey and Sarah brought an assortment of treats from Fritz Bakery…macaroons, bread pudding, chocolate chip pastries—you name, we ate it. And for dessert we had cocktails and yummy, greasy, New York-style Santullo’s pizza while watching Mystic Pizza. A day of birthday perfection.

Hop Haus

Monday: Lunch

As if I hadn’t eaten enough already, my lovely co-workers took me to lunch at Hop Haus. They have every burger imaginable, plus exotic burgers with kangaroo, ostrich and boar. I always order the Vegan Burger and make a mockery of it by adding cheese. So good! But apparently, I was too exhausted from eating to think about photographing the not-so-Vegan Burger.

Great birthday! If you need me, I’ll be at the gym.

To the extremes

Last week, I was brave enough to venture to the Borders on Michigan Avenue to pick up a book I needed for work. It the middle of the day in the middle of the week, so the tourist traffic waned.

Along the way, I was taken off guard by the Gold Coast’s architectural extremes.

Something about the juxtaposition of the sleek, contemporary high-rise building flanking the curvy gothic-style cathedral struck me with a realization that the city is filled with extremes. Perhaps, more often, contradictions. Like that Bentley dealer across the street from the church. I guess that should be a contradiction.

Extremes I’ve noticed around the city:

Skyscrapers and sprawling meadows

Cubs/White Sox

Summer flora in fall

Destruction for construction

Blustering cold vs. blistering hot

Affluent and broke, city and beach, saints and crooks…the list continues.

I can only rationalize that the city’s dichotomies exist at times to naturally balance itself out—for better or for worse. In many cases, I wish they didn’t. But they do because not everything, everyone can be the same. At least, that’s the only way I can make sense of why anything happens these days. I feel like I’ve had experiences on each end of the spectrum and everywhere in between the past month. It’s like six months have been compacted into one.

Life, death, joy, sadness, laughter, tears, excitement, disappointment, accomplishment, failure, truth, lies, comfort, stress, new faces, familiar friends, manic, static…yet somehow it balances out.

In this city of extremes, I guess I feel right at home.

Scene from a bus stop

You never know what kind of people and oddities you’ll run into at any given bus stop.

This was the scene at Chicago Avenue and Franklin Street last week waiting for the 66 bus.

How did this plethora of Bally Total Fitness water bottles get here? And where are all the lids?

Let’s hypothesize, shall we?

• A renegade member felt pissed about his required nine-year Bally’s contract and decided to seek revenge
• A now ex-Bally Fitness employee left the bag while chasing for the bus
• An anti-fitness activist makes a statement against the evils of corporate fitness organizations

The world shall never know.

Reason We Live in Chicago #4: Cold weather = Saving money

You’ve probably made a New Year’s resolution.

“Excuse me, New Year’s reso-whaaa?…” you may ask.

Ok, maybe you’ve already broken yours. Don’t feel bad about it. Many people already have or soon will. Just check your gym a month from now. I never keep New Year’s resolutions. This year, however, I vow to keep mine. In a bank account.

Yep, I’m resolving to save more money.

It’s much easier to save money this time of year. Let’s face it, there’s less motivation to leave the apartment with the snow blowing and wind blistering. I plan on doing the following to save cash:

• Put a dent in the Netflix queue: We’re already paying $15 a month, so we might as well stay in more often and catch up on the films and TV series dancing in our heads, no? Maybe I can finally watch the movies that have been in my Netflix queue for years, like Coffee and Cigarettes and Hotel Rwanda. And take in the movies I’m embarrassed to admit that I’ve never seen, such as Annie Hall and A Streetcar Named Desire.
• Cook more often: You’ve heard it here…Dining out is limited to twice a week—once for lunch, once for dinner. I finally have a properly stocked kitchen with real knives, food processor and a Kitchenaid mixer, so there is no excuse not to use them.
• BYOB-it: One of the best things about Chicago is delicious dining on the cheap. Even better, there are so many places that allow you to bring your own booze. In our early days in the city, Joe and I could eat dinner for $10-$15 at a tasty Thai or pizza place, plus the price of a cheap bottle of wine. Perfection.
• Scour Time Out and the Reader for free/cheap entertainment: I’ve adopted my friend Ryan’s philosophy about seeing live music—don’t go unless it’s under $20. I’m actually adopting the same philosophy about any event right now. Certain exclusions may apply.

To make saving money possible, please intervene when I talk about purchasing:

None of these. Tell me to “just say no.” Except for the wine. Remind me that we’re saving to go to:

How do you save money in the winter? Share ideas. Please.

Reasons We Live in Chicago #3: Cabs

Last week, I was hard pressed to find a good reason why we live here.

Biting wind, slippery sidewalks and snow blowing in the face…signs do not point to “yes.” They point to “I need a warmer coat.”

However, protesting the notion of standing in 7 degree weather to take two buses home, I stepped into a cab one evening and remembered how Chicago can be livable in the winter—there are vehicles out there, waiting to drive us around. We don’t have to wait on the bus. We don’t have to clean snow off our cars. We can take a cab. It’s easy.

Hail cab.

Endure the scent, for better or worse.

Oh, and pay the man (or lady).

I don’t take cabs often. It’s a rare treat. I have a foxy Focus, even though I drive her infrequently. For some reason, taking a cab feels like cheating. I’ll usually only do so if:

1. I’m feeling fancy (not too often).

2. I’m running really late (it happens).

3. I’m working really late (I can expense).

4. I’ve had a little too much to drink (i like wine).

Long story short, cabs can be smelly and/or nauseating. However, they can be a lifesaver in a pinch and a treat from time to time. And certainly, a great place to have a dance party to “Groove Is In the Heart.” That may or may not have happened.

Reasons We Live in Chicago #2: Live music

It’s been December for eight days, and it’s snowed three days of those days. Right in a row.

The snow hasn’t been substantial yet, but it’s been enough to make the commute annoying and make me create a mental checklist of all indoor activity options—like live music. Reason We Live in Chicago (in crappy weather) #2.

Oh, yes. Bands play here.

Sometimes, I forget how cheap and accessible a good show is in Chicago. The notion quickly came back to me last Tuesday when we went to see The xx and Friendly Fires at Bottom Lounge.

The xx

Originally, the allure of attending the show was The xx. They’re a lovely little British band I’ve been listening to for the past few months, thanks to emusic and the prompting of my good pal, Lisa.  They sounded fantastic live, true to form, especially given that they recently went from four band members to three. Favorite live songs  were “Crystallized” and “Islands.” Yessss.

The only image I got of the whole band, thanks to the enormous speaker in front of me.

Signature double white xx, encapsulated in black.

Friendly Fires

The surprise of the night was how much I liked Friendly Fires. I have their album, and I do like it, especially as a workout soundtrack. I still had low expectations going into the show, assuming they’d play like other generic British pop bands. However, I was pleasantly surprised by the amazing sound quality and immense energy that the band brought to the stage. The lead singer danced his ass off, and the crowd followed suit.

I just noticed how sweaty the guy in the middle is.

That’s the best: going from liking to digging a band as a result of seeing a live show. Especially when the show only cost you $15 plus the cost of cheap beer. The best.

Reasons We Live in Chicago #1: The views

The first snow of the season fell this morning. It’s a whopping 26 degrees outside right now. Sleeping bags coats are out, hats and gloves abound, and puddles have morphed into ice.

It’s official: it feels like winter. Pretty soon, we’ll be asking ourselves “why do we live here?” as we trudge though a foot of snow.

So, I’m starting a new project “Reasons We Live in Chicago,” to remind myself (and others) in the snowy, subzero months ahead why Chicago is a great place to live. I know it will be hard to remember.

Reasons We Live in Chicago #1: The views

When I worked in the Loop, I took the skyline’s eye candy for granted. Most daily commutes, my nose would stay in a book until I arrived at my bus stop. Then, I was surrounded by never-ending skyscrapers I could barely see.

Now, I travel daily to River North, stopping just short of the skyscrapers. It’s because of the short amount of distance I can truly appreciate the view. I was caught quite off guard the other night when I had to walk a few blocks east to Michigan Ave. I’m a daring woman to shop there this time of year.

One more for the road. This was from last summer when Leese and Jo visited, and I made them go on the Architectural Boat Tour with me.

To tree or not to tree?

I admit it: I am a Scrooge when it comes to the holiday season.

While I do enjoy the merriment of festive gatherings, the excitement of my little brothers and sister waking up on Christmas morning, and the occasional listening of Dolly and Kenny’s Once Upon a Christmas album, I have trouble getting into the spirit of Christmas or New Year’s.

Yet, I put up a Christmas tree every year. A direct slap in the face to my inner Scrooge.

Informal friend and office mate polling has shown that putting up a tree is not, in fact, representative of a person’s level of holiday spirit. To trim a tree or not trim a tree seems to have more to do with amount of apartment space, time and money. Many people who love the holidays don’t put up a tree, and conversely, some people (like me) put up a tree because they like decorating.

Apartment/condo tree trimming seems to come in four forms:

1. Wilderness girl (or boy) trees (Real pine)

People in the city who have real trees are most likely to have been boy scouts or girl scouts in their hay days. I don’t know how they do it. But. The fresh pine scent is lovely enough to make me want to pack up my gold purse and cowboy boots and go camping again. On the flip side, the pine needles and pressure of proper watering makes me want to run wild through the forest. My dear friend Megan Boley is one such wilderness girl—she’s been known to take fresh Christmas trees on the Clark bus. She is my hero.

2. “Going Green” trees (Artificial)

My tree is in this camp. It has an endearing Charlie Brown quality, trimmed in hand-me-down and clearance-bought ornaments. It’s definitely not as pretty or fragrant as the real deal.  I’m telling everyone that I’m “going green.” It’s much trendier than telling everyone “I’m still lazy.”

Pardon the gratuitous kitty-under-tree photo.

3.  Alternative tree

I once had an apartment that was smaller than my current one. Essentially, it was a studio with an extra room. The holiday centerpiece of this apartment was a miniature tree about a foot and a half tall, decorated with miniature ornaments. I still have that little guy, even though he qualifies as an alternative tree.

One of my Martha Stewart-like pals, Sunya, said she once decorated a rosemary bush, which doubled as fresh herbs after the holidays. Brilliant! I’ve had less success with my alternative trees. My mom bought me a cute tiny pine tree one year, but I ended up killing it as I do most household plants.

4. Tree-less tree

Tons of folks string lights and put up decorations but forgo the physical tree due to aforementioned constraints of space, time or money. The more I think about it, the tree-less tree is the way to go–all the glitz and glam with less fuss and no space sacrificed.

To those with tree-trimming backgrounds, what’s your style?