Strings: Ramen...in Chinatown!

It's been a tough week. After a difficult experience involving the aforementioned cookie dusted with espresso powder, I knew the best way to reassert my usually positive demeanor was to meet up with sister-friend Shira Marcus for a decent repast. Since autumn is in full swing, we considered a restaurant that could give us a warm vibe to go with the cooler weather...while avoiding all of the typical pumpkin spice-induced madness.

When one grows up eating Oriental-flavored Maruchan ramen purchased for 98c a bag from the grocery store (dressed up with nothing but frozen shrimp and minced onion), it's a true revelation to experience legit ramen for the very first time. I think there is a particular brand of irony surrounding the fact that the best ramen I've had in Chicago thusfar can be found on Archer Avenue in Chinatown.

The dining room at Strings is modern and minimalist, while still managing to convey intimacy. Paper lanterns in warm colors grace the ceiling, and shelves of air-purifying golden pothos adorn the walls. The furnishings are light and unobtrusive. From where we sat, Shira and I could see some of the work going on in the front prep area- including an impossibly large piece of meat and bone (I think it was pork shoulder) simmering in an enormous pot. It was neat to watch the staff plate (bowl) the dishes, and I may have spent more time watching them than I did trying to figure out what to eat.

Decisions, decisions.

It's difficult to make a choice when everything on the Strings menu looks amazing. Thank goodness there is a handy glossary of Japanese ramen food terms- I order sushi regularly and am comfortable knowing what I'm looking at on a sushi menu, but ramen accoutrements seem to have a different knowledge set. One unique section of items on the Strings menu showcases their "Hell" options- different soups of increasing potency based on the different levels of the underworld. I wasn't feeling brave enough to consider those...perhaps some other day.

Once Shira arrived, we quickly decided on our fare: she ordered the special Japanese curry ramen, and I picked the miso broth with pork loin.  On a previous visit I recall trying the shoyu broth with oden- little bits and pieces of meat, seafood, and vegetables that can also be ordered a la carte. We snacked complacently on edamame and caught up while waiting for our bowls to arrive.

Top: Shira's curry ramen. Bottom: miso ramen with pork loin

One of the most important Satiated City Chick tenets is that a dining experience is often made or broken by the quality of the company. Sitting across from a sister-friend on a crisp autumnal Friday night in Chicagoland while slurping ramen noodles is definitely the best medicine towards curing a bad mood. 

There was much to celebrate, after all- Shira had gotten a new car and an amazing new job during the week, and I had finally made it through my busy time at work. I was also excited that I had managed to eat my entire bowl of soup- after my first couple of visits to Strings I learned to skip the previous meal in anticipation of an enormous bowl of savory goodness.

"You know what my mom always says about ramen?" I asked her, unabashedly slurping the dregs of my miso broth.

"What's that?" Shira said, artfully using chopsticks to steer tasty noodles (made in-house in a machine that was imported directly from Japan) to her mouth.

"It's not first date food," I chirped.

"And neither of us care," she grinned. 

Thank goodness for sister-friends, Strings, and ramen.

A Taste of Heaven: the Importance of Brunch

Brunch, my friends, is a sacred tradition. Especially when one is simply terrible at cooking eggs nicely.

For many years throughout my early-to-mid-twenties, I worked retail and was unable to partake of this leisurely pastime. In the three years I lived in Waterbury, I think I only went out to brunch once or twice, because I always worked weekends. One of the joys of returning to Chicago in 2013 was discovering the appeal of brunch. Specifically, brunch in Andersonville.

There's something about the Andersonville neighborhood that intrinsically speaks to me. The stretch of Clark between Bryn Mawr to just south of Foster feels like a small town in the midst of the big city. People really seem to know one-another- their dogs, their children, their neighbors. While Edgewater is occasionally a little rough around the margins, Andersonville is simply more homey...and it's only a ten minute walk from where I live.

One of my first weekends home helped shape a tradition that is still celebrated today. My friends April & Jeremy Neander and I discovered A Taste of Heaven, a bakery and breakfast/lunch spot that has everything I've come to learn a good brunch spot must possess: low wait times, a tasty variety of fare, and a comfortable setting. We became so accustomed to dining al fresco in the summer that months elapsed before we first ate indoors...and I discovered their case of cupcakes. Cupcakes are the perfect appetizer to precede a savory brunch, y'know. Although one of my first Satiated City Chick entries professes my absolute allegiance to a specific cookie dusted with espresso powder, I am a sucker for A Taste of Heaven's red velvet cupcakes- they're the perfect size to split with a companion, too.

The inside of the restaurant boasts a cozy, eclectic vibe with kitschy country knickknacks that may have been gleaned from the many resale shops nearby, and the wide windows that overlook the intersection of Clark & Balmoral are perfect for people watching; they lend a sunny feel to the blue-and-white tiled dining room. I've eaten at Taste when every single table has been full; even when the place is crowded it is still possible to have a quiet conversation with one's companion(s).

Some of the menu highlights include warm Katie Cakes with fruit compote, Mike's Pesto Sandwich (pesto, bacon, tomato, spinach, goat cheese and two eggs medium on grilled brioche), and seasonal quiches and omelettes. I'm a staunch supporter of savory brunch options, and my old standby is their breakfast burrito. Let's face it; anything with guacamole in it is likely to help one recover from the previous night's endeavors. A Taste of Heaven serves their perfectly brewed coffee in cobalt blue mugs, and I often find that between sitting with the Neanders and sipping my coffee my mood is vastly improved before our food even arrives.

April chose Mike's Pesto Sandwich, while Jeremy picked the veggie stir-fry

Starting my Saturday or Sunday in Andersonville once or twice a month has become such a mainstay, and one of the best things about A Taste of Heaven is its homey charm. If you're looking for a comfortable restaurant that serves hearty, reasonably priced brunch with just the right amount of flair, place sits firmly at the top of my list.

Return of the Satiated City Chick

Whenever I go out on dates, my friends want to know how the company was, but it seems like a good chunk of the experience can be shaped by the atmosphere. Wherever I may meet up with someone- whether it’s a hipster coffee bar, a Kosher-style deli, or my favorite brewpub- can influence the date almost as much as the conversation and chemistry (or, more often than not, lack thereof). With this in mind, I decided to explore writing about an evening’s juicy culinary details with my company in the background- instead of the other way around.

It's been almost exactly a year since I wrote my very first restaurant review for the Addison Recorder. I'm still single and still searching for that perfect, incomparable skim vanilla latte from a singular local cafe. I live in the Edgewater Beach neighborhood on Chicago's far north side, and it seems like my area in particular is ramping up in terms of dining options. I know of a speakeasy-style wine bar, a bakery, and an Indian restaurant that are opening up just two blocks from me in the coming months, and a Mexican place that just opened on Granville a few weeks ago. With all of these delicious new options in mind, I figured it was time to dust off my Satiated City Chick persona and get down to some dedicated dining...hopefully in good company. 

In the ten months since I wrote about my family's favorite Chicago pizza place I've turned thirty, gone tornado chasing (and the food options in the Middle of Nowhere, Kansas are pretty limited, let me tell you) and revisited a small town I lived in for three years- Waterbury, Vermont. Although Waterbury is home to paragons such as Green Mountain Coffee Roasters and Ben & Jerry's, the dining options were sadly limited when I was in residence. Here in Chicago it's no big thing to be able to walk to the end of my block and devour the best tacos in the entire city; imagine my surprise and joy when I returned to Waterbury and discovered a new eatery at the end of my old street. I was able to pick up a delectable, homemade Bahn Mi sandwich! Even though it's been three years since I moved back, I still revel in the ready availability of ethnic cuisine in my city.

I hope readers will enjoy my culinary endeavors; rather than write solely about dining adventures while dating, I intend to bring some of my treasured friends along for the ride. There's one thing I can attest to with certainty: no one will go home with an empty stomach.