Tam Popo - Measured Disappointment

As past entries have demonstrated, I take ramen seriously. My girlfriend is right: I do have an Asian fetish… only the playful Oriental minx I crave is soaking in a complex broth, with a dash of bamboo shoots, green onions, bean sprouts and thinly sliced seasoned pork – and for once that’s not an innuendo. If ramen were a person, ramen would have a restraining order against me. I would follow ramen at night from a discrete distance in my tinted Aerostar van. I would read ramen’s mail and hack ramen’s Friendster (look, the ramen I know doesn’t abandon the original social networking tool just because everyone else jumped ship). And if I hurt ramen, it’s only because I love ramen so much, right?

Against this background, you can appreciate the anticipation as I joined super friends and fellow ramen obsessors Sizzlenutz and Chlodnik at Tam Popo (5665 N Lincoln Ave). LTHForum had titillated us with the possibility of great ramen without a drive to the suburbs. I’ve been called an elitist several times, but it’s not a character defect in me that people enjoy flavorless derivative mush like Avatar (and yes, I saw Avatar in 3-D. Shitty character and plot development set to bad acting does not get better just because the moron spectacle-o-meter is set to 11).

What is my point? Despite the wisdom of the crowds, perhaps there is room for elite opinion. I can appreciate Yelp and LTHForum as platforms for democratic opinion exchange. But at GCL there is no deluge of contradicting pronouncements. Once our readers sift through the self loathing and tangential asides that saturate our entries, they’ll see we are purposeful on which restaurants we choose to praise and not praise. It takes more than social inadequacy combined with the annoyingly self-aware diction of a New Yorker subscriber to become a GCL contributor. It requires a spirit of gastro adventurism to enter establishments with less than stellar health ratings in the hopes of a new taste experience.

Tam Popo had so many things going for it – friendly staff with limited command of English, intimate location in a food district known for its East Asian population, high praise from food message boards. Still, other than interesting, almost dessert-like scallop sakura appetizer,
the tanmen and shoyu ramen left these gastronomes less than fulfilled. There was nothing particularly wrong with our ramen, but it lacked the full gusto character we had expected. There was a collective shrug, as when Chlodnik meets my b-friends and says, “they’re just so…nice” in a manner that makes it clear normalcy is a pejorative term in her schema.

Fortunately our solipsistic triangle remained as satisfying as ever. This past winter in Chicago felt just a little bit warmer due in no small part to their company (and also because it actually was warmer, scientifically speaking). Food critiquing is hard…friendship even harder…but making Sizzlenutz giggle while Chlodnik sighs, well that’s just the piano to my Mozart.

But yeah, now that I have a girlfriend I don't really need them that much anymore. Amirite?

Food vs Friends: The Battle that Rages within Sizzlenuts

I, Sizzlenuts, am approaching a crossroads in life. I am a proud resident of Andersonville, and I would argue that the ‘ville is the most prime real estate for comestible consumption in this city. The drag on Clark from a few blocks below Foster to a few blocks above Bryn Mawr has plenty of nice options, including the very reasonably priced fine dining spots Anteprima and Cere’s Table,[1] and the incomparable Pasticceria Natalina.[2] But, that is not what I am talking about.

I am talking about what’s in the immediate surroundings. While it is very easy walking distance to Little Vietnam, it is just a quick bike ride to so much more (including many that have been that favorites of this blog): the Korean of Albany Park, the Thai of Lincoln Square, the Indian & Pakistani of Devon; The Ethiopian of Edgewater. My love for Chicago between 4000 and 6400 North, from the Lake to about Kimball East to West is constantly reaching new heights. My newest love is of the West African food in Uptown. There are a number of places around Broadway between about Montrose and Lawrence. I recently tried two.

The first is BQ Afro Root cuisine, serving up Nigerian fare. The first time I went, I went alone,[3] having just stopped by neighboring Uptown Bikes. I got the yam porridge. This was a delicious, hearty and spicy. They call it “yam” but it is not the same root vegetable we gringos think of. I got a side of spinach that, while nicely spiced, tasted like it was made from frozen. Entrees come with a variety of meats. I got the chicken, goat and fish. All 3 were richly flavored, but tough. One would expect these to be more tender, given the appearance of slow cooking.

Excited about this find, I brought back Chittlins, Chlodnik and Toupee. They were less impressed. And it is true, the meat isn’t great. But, the pattern has been that I am the most critical one, and I was heartened to see that trend reversed.[4]

Of the dishes we got the second trip, there is really only one I’d recommend highly. The egusi with fufu is delicious. Fufu is this pounded yam thing that you tear apart and dip in soups/stews. Egusi is a soup/stew. I don’t really know what’s in it, but I like it. The other dishes were not great. The whole tilapia was pretty good, but not special. The spinach was not nearly as good as the version that I ordered as a side dish the trip before. Flavored very differently, and much more clearly from frozen or canned.

The next restaurant is Grace African, dishing out food from Ghana. Reggae Law Firm has lived in Ghana, knows a lot of the African community in Chicago through the Reggae side of his identify, and highly recommended Grace. RLF, San Antonio Brown and I went there for a very pleasant Sunday lunch. This place is much better than BQ, all around. I had goat meat in peanut butter soup. This was phenomenal. The meat fell apart in your hands, which, are used to eat it. This came with banku, which is very similar to fufu, but more fermented. San Antonio Brown got the “red red,” a platter of delicious fried plantains and bean stew. Reggae Law Firm got tilapia with kenkey. Kenkey is the driest and most fermented of the fufu, banku, and kenkey family. This dish comes with two chutney like sides, one spicy, one primarily fresh chopped tomatoes. Rave reviews all around. This dish is also hand-eaten. You tear a piece of kenkey, fish off the bone, and some of the two chutneys, and you get a mouth full of satisfied desires. I have since gone back with Gregalo; I wanted to get the kenkey for myself, and he got the red red.

Now back to the quandary at hand: my residence in the ‘ville. I love it here. But, as for my social life, this isn’t really where it’s at. Chlodnik, Mixed Signals, Lady Vol, Husband Crispin

Glover[5] and a slew of other friendly art enthusiasts live down in Logan Square. Toupee and I Am The Law live in neighboring Wicker Park. In addition to the source of the crucial-to-my-

sanity-friend-time,[6] Logies and WP is where I actually have, in theory, a chance of finding a mate. Let’s just say in the ‘ville, my Subaru Forrester, and Toucan Sam’s Outback wagon fit

right in. [7] Chlodnik is buying a house, most likely in Logies. I am quite honored to be invited

to be her resident. However, Logies food, outside of a couple of nice places, is all Mexican, and, lesser Mexican to my hometown of Austin, TX (as far as I can tell). So, what do I do: do I choose food or friends?

Luckilly, I’ll have plenty of time to ponder this because (sing along now):

I went downtown to see milady, she stood me up and I stood there waiting.

But it’ll be alright, When The Morning Comes. [8]

---

[1] Cere’s Table is 1 for 1 for taking a girl there and then bedding her. Which is more than I can say for The Bristol in Bucktown.

[2] I don’t want to say too much, but just that this place has also brought me some, even if temporary, success. I won’t say more because I actually want to see this girl again, and if I do, who knows? She might even read this. (who am I kidding? She's never going to read this).

[3] Have I mentioned that I’m a miserable lonely wretch recently? I’m really losing it. I track my mental health by what songs I find myself indentifying with. This week I can’t stop listening to side 1 of the 1973 Hall & Oates LP “Abandoned Luncheonette.” That I think “When the morning comes” is about me, is clearly a new low.

[4] Chittlins claims I only like it out of white guilt.

[5] I don’t think he looks like his namesake at all. Our guy is much better looking. I think he should have been named after James Franco.

[6] Have you ever lived alone in a city where you have very few friends older than 6 months? I’ve done much more exploring of my psyche in the 7 months of living here than with the three dozen or so mushroom and acid trips of my youth.

[7] A few things to note here: 1. I love living near older gay couples. Seeing gay couples on the street makes me happy for some reason. 2. Logies trim is fucking wells grade. Really disappointing. The top-shelf aesthetics of Lady Vol, Chlodnik and Mixed Signals really do not generalize to their local sisters. 3. Luckily, WP is a source of top-shelf trim, as discussed in my review of Big Star, which is still my favorite bar in Chi-town, in case anyone is keeping track.

[8] If you haven't been reading the footnotes, then this part doesn't make any sense. Also, you probably haven't laughed at all.

Udupi Palace - Requiem for our two-year holiday

Did you know commencement is synonymous with beginning? Who was the clown that thought graduation signified a new beginning? Graduation is an event that for all intents and purposes signifies the end to what has been a two-year unpaid vacation, albeit in a city that refuses to acknowledge the arrival of spring. Graduation is a requiem; it is why we wear black and sit through elegiac laments of days past. On June 12th, I for one will be wearing dark sunglasses to hide the tears, and those will not be tears of joy. My sole consolation will not be some certificate signifying a degree completed but an unemployed Chittlins sleeping on my couch.

Our more dedicated readers may have begun to notice the slower pace at Good, Clean Licks this quarter. I would like to blame the health care legislation or even the illegal immigrants in Arizona, but the truth is, Chittlins has a girlfriend. The noose (also know as Coolwhip) hangs heavy. Casually meeting up somewhere for a quick bite now requires advanced scheduling; I suppose I could join them for movie night tonight, but you know what they say, Mexican tamales don’t mix well with Indian chutney.

Speaking of Indian chutney, the GCL entourage descended upon Udupi Palace (2543 W Devon Ave) this week for an evening of South Indian gastro enlightenment. South India is known for its religious tolerance, beautiful geography and India’s Silicon Valley; a visit to Bangalore, the region’s unofficial capital, promises slumdogs, millionaires, and lots of spontaneous Bollywood dancing. At Udipi Palace, expect suburban Indian families and the adventurous gringo. As for the Bollywood dancing, well, no one is going to stop you.

This week was the first time I was able to roll up to a GCL event in my own transportation. That’s right, ToucanSam bought the lesbian favorite, granola guzzling Subaru Impreza Outback Sport. Of course, due to a Chittlins’ scheduling error, 55% Blame and I showed up half an hour before anyone else. We kept ourselves busy chatting over some Dahi Vada and continued ordering appetizers as everyone showed up. The sampler plate itself might as well have been fried along with the random assortment of vegetables it came with. Only the samosa is worth mentioning. Of the other starters, the papdi chaat and dahi vada are well worth ordering; similar in nature, each delivers the yogurt and tamarind sauce combo with panache, one with crispy dough biscuits and the other over a black lentil donut.

Our other guest that evening were Miss Piggy, Uninvited 1st Year, and The Bania of Shaitan. As is customary at Indian restaurants, the Indians ordered for the table. We selected a tasting of South Indian specialties: three dosais, an utthapum, and two rice dishes. The favorites were the special rawa dosai and the besibele bath. The rawa dosai was crispy and paired very well with the coconut chutney. The besibele rice dish on the other hand is a rice daal mixture with peas, carrots, peppers and potatoes resembling a rice stew.

For dessert we were served tales of how The Bania and Miss Piggy met their respective partners. Sweet never tasted so cute. It seems the combination of misdirection and nonchalance is the foundation on which to build today’s successful relationship. Note to Coolwhip: if Chittlins starts to act like he isn’t interested, you’re so in.