The idea for a Polish-themed outing was partially conceived by Sizzlenutz’s proposal to explore something uniquely Chicagoan; and then fully impregnated by Chlodnik’s links to “Pretty Women Contests” at Polish night clubs. GCL newcomers Mixed Signals, Lady Vol, and husband Crispin Glover complemented regulars Sizzlenutz, Chlodnik and Toupee on an evening that promised much and delivered more. Staropolska Restauracja (3028 N. Milwaukee) in Avondale has recently been refurbished to a castle theme, though there was nothing medieval about the strikingly beautiful émigré waitress who parted the Iron Curtain to my heart.
Oh sweet, darling Sylwia…how can I make you understand what you made me feel? Will we enter a Warsaw Pact after someone translates the long, drunken prose preceding my phone number that I scrawled on the napkin? How can I communicate that marrying me will not only provide American papers but also the income potential of a UChicago MBA? Are there any words in any language that could communicate such beautiful convenience? The second hottest dish after the waiting staff was the actual food. Staropolska’s specials fulfilled the spirit and the law of the GCL mission – the best food in Chicago for under $10. I had expected the drabness of soviet-era architecture bleeding into the food of Central Europe based on my solitary Polish experience at Santa Monica’s moderately well-regarded Warszawa. But the skillful, elegant execution of straight-forward peasant fare with quality ingredients produced a hearty though not bloating meal that ranks high on the all-time GCL list. Staropolska is must-go food destination in Chicago.
Sylwia recommended the Polish Plate –sausage on a bed of sauerkraut, potato pancake with cream, stuffed cabbage, Polish gnocci and a whole bunch of shit I can’t remember but that needless to say makes no accommodation for the starch and carb-averse;
Lady Vol ordered the tender, well-seasoned pork chops (if I were to write a blog about Brazilian bikini contests, it would be called “Well Seasoned Chops”); Sizzlenutz’s beef stew in a crepe-like wrapping allowed the natural flavors of the ingredients to mesh without losing their distinction. However, the vegetarians in the group had a much more limited range of choice, but it is their own fault for denying the natural order. This was unapologetically Polish fare for Polish people by Polish people. We accompanied our meal with $4 Zywiec beers, and $3 Polish vodka shots (Zubrowka Bison Grass) that prove vodka can be robust and masculine without the flavor profile of paint thinner. Anyone who orders a mixed drink with decent vodka deserves to be cold cocked by a Stasi spy-catcher (okay, that’s East Germany but no one would have recognized a Bezpieka reference). 
After dinner, we rushed to reach our next destination before they started charging cover. Imagine that a 1980s Cuban drug lord was asked to design the interior of a night club for Central Europeans expats. Now take that image and add more mirrored walls, disco balls, laser lights, and fog. Welcome to Jedynka (5616 W Diversey) in Belmont Central. There are many things that can and should be said about Jedynka, but the best testimonial I can provide is that there is now a picture floating around the web that would harpoon any political aspirations I might have….and I consider myself the victim.
The $4 martini specials won us no heteronormative accolades, but they provided enough liquid courage for me to approach three polski princesses at the bar. It being Lent, (or “Post” as they call it), they could neither drink alcohol nor dance with a Latino (that seems awfully specific, right?). In any case, I ordered a round of grapefruit juices and engaged in a broken English conversation about Facebook (drunken scrawl on a napkin: check), the merits of Mexican versus Polish Catholicism, and the Polish affinity for pleather (okay, that last one was made up).
In an evening where we discovered that the guy who would start meditating mid-conversation on a blind date with Mixed Signals was the same alleged sex-offender joining Sizzlenutz and Chlodnik’s lab; when of all the controversial things I say (defending Kobe Bryant is equated with defending rape outside of LA), the one that turned the women folk against me was about how a woman’s fantasy involves a guy listening to her complain about the people at her job; it was driving a drunk Sizzlenutz at 3am that Sizzlenutz encapsulated Polish night better than I ever could: “Look, I’ll say it…we’re three-dimensional fucking people”.
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those moves explain a lot
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