Hoanh Long will our love last?

I, Sizzlenuts, was under the impression that this blog was a way for Chittlins to capture his co-bloggers hearts. I know I will always play second fiddle to ToucanSam, but still, for these past couple of months I thought this was about us. The way Chittlins would email me to say "we managed to get reservations," when really, he managed to get reservations, made me think of us as a couple. After one outing, we went to Home Depot so we could shop for "our shower-head." It was all so intoxicating. Sure, creating a blog as an excuse to schedule regular dates is finding a cheap loophole in the legalese of dating procedure,[1] but still, that Chittlins did it for me was so charming.

However, as in all my other romances, I have learned it wasn’t about me at all. For you see, as you all surely know, it turns out that this blog is also published in the U 0f C GSB paper. I am quite happy to be read, but I’d be lying if I said my tears weren’t a mix of joy and sadness. I just have to hold my head up and move on.

For this outing, we went to Hoanh Long (6144 N Lincoln Ave), a Vietnamese restaurant claimed to top all my local Argyle favorites. [2] The reliable Chlodnik was of course in attendance. However, we were also joined with the home-wrecking foursome of Teuton, Jewxican, 55% Blame, and MILS.[3] Though, it is hard for me to stay mad at them because they are all so pleasant and nice.

We got a variety of outstanding food. It’s gotten to the point where when I go to a Vietnamese place, I no longer taste a flavor I have never tasted before, but more, find gradations of quality of familiar flavors.[4] And these dishes were some very fine gradations.[5] MILS ordered the pho. I had a little sample of the broth. It is at the very least tied with 888 for my favorite pho broth in town (very nice nutmeg flavor). We ordered some Banh Xeo (a fried crepe filled with shrimp, pork beansprouts). One wraps this up in lettuce and covers it with fish sauce. This was an excellent Banh Xeo. We also got the lemon beef salad. It’s exactly what you would want out of a lemon beef salad.

For the main course, the table shared this tropical flavored fish hot pot, lemongrass chicken, squid sautéed with house special sauce, and a beef dish with I think a different house special sauce. Every dish was exemplary. All balanced the heat with other flavors,
such as the pineapple sweetness of the hot pot, quite well.

I recommend this place highly. I would say that it is my favorite Vietnamese in town simply because we ordered a lot, and all of it was great. It does not seem to be a place where you have to say “oh, get this, but not this.” It’s a rare pleasure to have such free reign.

When it was time to part, Chittlins left with his fellow U of C GSB’ers to enjoy a pleasant night of playing taboo, and breaking my heart.

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[1] This is similar to that guy on Seinfeld who would purposely lose "loser buys the winner dinner" bets with women. Remember that one?

[2] See the “Whacky Adventures of Sizzlenuts post”

[3] This is an abbreviation for “Miss I love Sharing”

[4] Of course, I’m sure if I went to Vietnam, or found the right place in the states, I could find a completely novel sensory experience

[5] That was a pun, get it?

Hello From Sverige!

ToucanSam is still in search of the elusive $10 meal; mostly because he can't tear himself away from this GoogleBuzz! thing.

Mitsuwa - a tasteful massaging of the senses

I love Japanese food, partly because it is delicious, but mostly because it gives me the opportunity to start several sentences with, “well, when I was in Japan…” [also picture me pretentiously gesturing towards my person while I arch my eyebrows in a self-satisfied, smug manner] Tut-tutting ethnic food as not matching your previous experience of that food in its native country is the pinnacle achievement within my circle of friends. Needless to say, people from Palin's "Real America" find us less than endearing.

Remember those Apple Jack commercials where the parents grill the kids about why they

like Apple Jacks even though they don’t taste like apples, and the kids answer, “we eat what we like”? Well, my version for why I like my cool ethnic food is “we eat what you don’t like.” That is, by eating fermented soy beans while you give a yucky face, we have demonstrated our worldly superiority over you. It’s saying: go back to your PF Changs and Macaroni Grills; you’re enjoying food merely on palatability, while we’re enjoying an authentic experience.

After a subpar ramen experience in downtown, we decided superior ramen broth is worth the hardship – and by hardship we mean a pleasurable Saturday outing in Sizzlenutz’s late model Suburu for a 30 minute drive to an affluent Chicago suburb (certainly my definition of “hardship” forks slightly from, oh, I don’t know, someone in Chad or Haiti).

Mitsuwa Marketplace (100 East Algonquin Road) is an immersive shopping and dining experience reminiscent of my cherished Ito Yokado at Musashisakai Eki. Going to an American food court in an American chain mall in an American suburb is the sort of activitythat gets you excommunicated from my skinny-jean clad circle, but make it an ethnic chain mall and suddenly you’re the bass player for Beach House (if you don’t understand the reference, I scoff at you behind your back). Unfortunately, if you’re Asian, even if you’re fifth-generation Korean, you don’t gain any more credibility for going to Mitsuwa than I do for going to Stater Brothers. Sorry, dudes. I don’t make the cultural cache rules.

I ordered the Unagidon (eel rice bowl): Sizzlenutz, Chlodnik, and GCL newcomer Brushes WithWolves ordered miso, shoyu (soy sauce), and shio (salt) ramen. My eel was creamy, flaky and flavorful, though usually I prefer my eel with a crispier outside texture. The exclamations from my fellow food explorers made it clear that their ramen expectations had been met, with the miso ramen a favorite for its delicate straddle of the sweet and salty. At the same time, you understand that you haven’t delved into a tenth of the delicious possibilities of the Mitsuwa food court.

Afterwards we went grocery shopping for the miso-centric dinner Sizzlenutz was preparing that night. I walked up and down the aisles searching for peanut cream - a highly processed concoction that is less like our traditional peanut butter and more like a gelatinous, peanut-flavored Nutella. During my time as a poor student in Tokyo, peanut cream became a nearly daily staple almost to the point of nausea. My first taste in 6 years brought a rush of emotions and memories that went beyond the food stuff itself…days of bike rides, Japanese language classes and train bells…nights of karaoke, cigarettes, cheap beer and androgynous fashion. What food will capture my Chicago experience? Certainly nothing as obvious as Chicago’s overrated stuffed pizza.

Sizzlenuts added picture captions:

1) Chittlins doing what he does with beautiful women: gets fed like a baby (side note: this does not result in sex)

2). Shoyu Ramen: Rich porky heaven

3). Sizzlenuts doing what he does with beautiful women: makes them laugh. (side note: this does not result in sex).

4) Groceries and such. pretty colors too.

5). Chitlins shows sushi chef a recipe from Chlodnik's Japanese cookbook for his opinion (side note: this results in sex).

Ginza Fish House – where to go on Valentines if your date is Wes Anderson

ManDates in general seem to err on having more “man” than “dates”, so it was unusual, to say the least, to go on an actual date with a GIRL without my usual coterie of bros and dawgs. Of course, the counterparty to this evening probably considered this a platonic ramen outing in downtown Chicago, rather than a shot with the Windy City's most hapless bachelor. However, I don’t really care what women think as you can tell by the way I spin my finger around my ear in the universal “koo koo bird” crazy sign and mouth “hormones” whenever a woman starts talking.

If I were to pick the defining metaphor for my love life, it would be one particular sequence in the 1993 Dallas Cowboys/Buffalo Bills Super Bowl. Leon Lett of the Cowboys recovered a fumble in the midfield and ran towards what seemed like an assured touchdown. At the ten yard line he slowed down to a casual, cocky stroll. Thing was, Bills wide receiver Don Beebe had been trailing the whole time and as Lett stretched his arms out in triumph just before crossing the end zone, Beebe managed to knock the ball out of bounds for a touchback. I could write a weekly column about all the almost-touchdowns I’ve fumbled, but people come here for the food recommendations, not the anecdotes of a man that can’t score *sigh*. There is an important distinction however between Leon Lett and me: he went home that day, likely to a pool-sized Jacuzzi full of super models, a Super Bowl champion; I go home to a pint of double chocolate fudge ice cream and tears…mostly tears.

Ginza Fish House (19 E Ohio St) has as inauspicious a façade as Rachael Leigh Cook’s character in 1999’s breakout rom-com, She’s All That (plot summary: popular guy unleashes the swan inside bookish duckling Laney Boggs). Located below the seemingly dilapidated Tokyo Hotel in the Near North Side, I was pleasantly surprised by the clean, wood- paneled interior, simple elegance, and quaint atmosphere.
As Chlodnik astutely observed, we felt like we were in a Wes Anderson movie, probably Early Wes rather than Later Wes. We tried to be as quirky as our surroundings and write out Wes Anderson’s name in toothpicks, but we had already stayed past closing time and didn’t wish to further impose on the friendly staff.


Ginza Fish House is renowned for its sushi and sashimi , but Chlodnik and I found that we shared a mutual obsession with ramen. Apparently the best ramen in Illinois is 20 miles away in Arlington Heights, which will be the subject of a future review no doubt, but we had cravings, and one of them was for ramen. We ordered the traditional tonkatsu ramen. The toppings were good, the noodles adequate, but we both found the broth too salty for our tastes (and no, I wasn’t just pretending to agree with everything the girl says). Even dropping my cell phone into her bowl did nothing to fix her soup, but it did fix that pesky problem I had of my cell phone turning on and working. Chlodnik felt really guilty about the phone, which I should have used for my advantage because, as anyone can tell you, guilt is nature's aphrodisiac.

Ginza Fish House: Don’t judge a book by its cover…and ladies, don’t judge by the cover and your first 10 or 20 awkward interactions with the “book”…if you know what I mean. You don’t? Never mind. It wasn’t that important anyways. Anyone got some double chocolate fudge ice cream and Kleenex?

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