Maravillas - the reconquista meets its Alamo

As I write this, I am watching Hitman, a warmed over rehash of convoluted cliches - an apt parallel for Mexican food in Chicago. Growing up in California, mexican food is taken for granted. Though it falls short of the source material, the underlying essence, or what the french dubbed, "l'essence" remains. LA's taco trucks alone caused a legal and regulatory raucous due to their criminal deliciousness (sidenote: if I were a 15-yr old teeny bopper sensation a la Miley Cyrus, my first album would be called Criminal Deliciousness and I would be on the cover in a skimpy sailor suit and pigtails).

This week ToucanSam suggested Maravillas Restaurant in Hyde Park (5506 S. Lake Park Ave), less so for the food than the opportunity to rape the language of Cervantes and Octavio Paz with his gabacho pronunciation.

I have to compliment Maravillas on service. Friendly waiters refilled our water promptly, we got extra chips on demand, and the server was a sport about posing for pictures.



Unfortunately the colorful ambiance could not seep into the bland food. I ordered carne asada and chorizo sopes, ToucanSam got vegetarian tostadas; other than the consistency of the corn-based carb, I would venture that there was little difference between our gustatory experiences: same heat-lamp congealed refried beans, overly generous portion of lettuce, and a smattering of tasteless white cheese (generic mozzarella instead of crumbly queso fresco?) topped with sour cream (note: I had specifically ordered sour cream on the side). A heapin' of sour cream is a giveaway that the kitchen does not have confidence in the dish and hopes the eater will accept an abundance of toppings for a dearth of spice. I couldn't tell you which was chorizo or carne asada by taste. All in all, I was overwhelmed by the mediocrity of my food.

Unlike the meal however, the conversation was complex and ambitious, switching from a discussion of Paul Krugman's New York Magazine article on efficient market theory, to my colorful and delightful impressions (ToucanSam's response: "you sound like a raspy, throaty geisha"), to ToucanSam's passionate insistence that we watch 500 Days of Summer on our next ManDate. If we were a reality show, Toucan and I most resemble The Hills with our breezy chats, who's-with-whom drama gossip, and our trend-setting fashion forward sense of style.


Conclusion: an acceptable choice for the untrained palates of the Midwest, taking no chances and asking for none. Inarguably low prices, adequate quantities, friendly staff, and comfortable setting.
For the more demanding, Pilsen neighborhood supposedly more 'authentic', but my experience has not borne this out. The search for interesting Mexican food in Chicago continues. Suggestions?

Friday night at Crisp

If you are given the choice between staying home to watch the Numb3rs season premier or grabbing a beefed up bimbimbop at Crisp – I would recommended putting on your best regular-guy polo shirt along with your Air Jordan Pumps (retro is back) and heading over to Crisp (2940 N Broadway) .

Lincoln Park, especially North Broadway demands a little more and a little less at the same time. For that evening I chose a chipper ‘Summer’s Over’ attitude that had been serving me well for the past few days but I came across an ‘Angry Man – old lady just ran over my foot with her tricycle’ attitude that I might want to try out next time. It turns out cursing at old people in foreign languages is far more satisfying.

Chittlins showed up late so I had to improvise when I got there. I wanted to take my critique seriously so I started testing out the confortability of some of the wooden benches when I began to get looks. Crisp went with the communal sitting concept, which is great except its communal. If you’re lucky you’ll get the bench partners we did and they will spend the entire time it takes you to eat to decide what they want to order. They will look at your food and point commenting on how they think they may like your order but without the carrots because carrots are for rabbits and they would add more egg and tofu because they need the protein, they’ve been working out recently and need to double their daily intake and … f’ing Lincoln Park.

Sorry, got carried away. Chittlins finally rocked up in what I gathered was a new O’neill hoodie; it still had that pre-wash sheen. It’s the type of anonymous apparel you see guys wearing when they walk out of the theater after watching Julia & Julia on their own. I never did get a reason for his tardiness. [NOTE FROM CHITTLINS: I HAVE THE TEXT FROM TOUCANSAM THAT HE WOULD BE THERE AT 7pm...HE ARRIVED AT 6:45pm. I ARRIVED AT 7:05pm. IT IS DIFFICULT TO SEE WHICH WAY THE BLAME ARROW POINTS IN THIS CASE] We ordered. I got the Original Bad Boy Buddha with Organic Brown Rice and Tofu. It came back all covered in Sesame seeds. I hate Sesame seeds. Why don’t people put that on the menu? Sesame seeds are like Bed, Bath & Beyond coupons, tasteless.

I’ve always had bimbimbop that is served unreasonably hot, this one is served cold, as if it is a brown rice salad. Despite my complaints, it’s a solid vegetarian option. The debate however continues, do you mix a bimbimbop or eat it by vegetable? Chittlins ordered the Seoul Sensation burrito and a side of Myon’s Kimchi. The burrito was had without too much comment so I’ll take that as a recommendation. It was also not the first time Chittlins had been to Crisp and had the Korean burrito. As for the Kimchi, it is apparently good enough you’d want to eat it off the sidewalk. Walking home Chittlins tripped over a leaf and dropped his plastic container of homemade Kimchi on the sidewalk. After having to pull out and throw away at least one piece of cabbage that leaked out, my friend couldn’t bring himself to throwing out more. So it ended up where so many other rotten cabbages have…

Jibarito - Puerto Rican for "Is that deep fried plantain for bread?"

Driving down Division Ave in Chicago's Humboldt Park neighborhood, you make a special detour from America to If-Lou-Dobbs-Saw-This-His-Pumpkin-Head-Would-Explode-ville.


Many things have been said about Puerto Ricans, but never 'understated.'
The jibarito is a Chicago specialty imported by the Borinquen Restaurant from Puerto Rico in the 1990s. The main ingredients are deep fried plantains, garlic, meat, garlic, lettuce, garlic, garlic mayonnaise, garlic, some sort of meat, garlic, and also an understated hint of garlic to bring out the subtle dashes of garlic.
Needless to say, this is a date meal, or better yet, a pre-date meal.

ToucanSam and I went to the original Borinquen Restaurant on California Blvd. If I recall the way I got us lost on that trip was taking the 90/94 Dan Ryan heading East instead of West, because clearly a freeway going North/South should be labeled as East/West. And also, as points of reference it should use states no one goes to (to go get to Division, should we head East on the Dan Ryan towards Indiana, or West towards Wisconsin?).

In any case, the fried plantains are a telenovela in your mouth. Talk about garlic infused: garlic took these plantains out back, got them pregnant, married them to save face in a small town, and now they live in the basement of garlic’s parents’ house to save money until garlic’s band takes off.

The classic steak filler left this reviewer cold, however. For $6, I guess I wasn’t expecting beer-fed and massaged kobe beef pounded to tender perfection, but, crap on bicycle, how about using the cows that can make the walk up the plank to the slaughterhouse?

Doing more research I came upon Papa’s Cache Sabroso. The first time we tried to get to Papa’s it was closed. Sullen, we ended up at some bourgeoisie nightclub that served an overpriced jibaritos platter that was awful. Jibaritos are like Mexican food: if you pay more than $8, it’s not going to be good (incidentally, the same cannot be said for peep shows down Khaosan Road in Bangkok).

The day we finally tasted Papa's, some kid was blasting Sponge Bob Squarepants full volume in the corner television right above our heads. If we had had something to talk about this might have been an inconvenience. Traditionally, a jibarito is made with steak, but at Papa’s, the slow-roasted chicken took my taste buds, slapped them across the face, twisted their arm till they called 'uncle', took their milk money, and sent them home a disheveled mess. In a good way. You’ll have to take my word about the chicken since ToucanSam is a vegetarian; his jibarito was a bit more passive. The garlic and plantains started off strong, but the finish was all lettuce. Its always a bit disappointing when you go in expecting a Menage a trois but end up instead with a greasy garlic sandwich. At some point, the owners, presumably the grandparents, asked the kid to turn down the TV. For some reason, at that moment everything just felt right.

Conclusion: pay your respects to the originator at the Borinquen, but go to Papa’s for the fillings. And the side rice will not be good at either place so just go for the white rice with beans.