From SoKo to LatAm, a GCL forged in fire

Now that I am in possession of a girlfriend, many have wondered whether a food blog conceived of subliminated sexual frustration can survive a fulfilling relationship (note: probs not that fulfilling on her end). Yes, as enjoyable as it is to have ToucanSam berate me while we sit in traffic on the Dan Ryan Expressway (btw, a significant achievement in horrible urban planning and asinine civil engineering), GCL might never have happened if I had been able to choose between time with ToucanSam or a special lady. Still, the fuel that drives GCL was never loneliness in and of itself, but rather a larger sense of frustration and helplessness. As a result, with impending graduation and no concrete job prospects, my impotence before the world promises transcendent food blogging.

This week I met up with cognitive science powerhouses Sizzlenutz and Chlodnik to sample the vaunted ramen at Tanpopo. Unfortunately Sizzlenutz did some amateur hour leg work and didn’t bother to check hours of operation – real bush league, amirite? Walking around the Far North Side, Chlodnik pointed out the intriguingly named restaurant, The Money Shot. Needless to say, we knocked that setup out of the park. We decided to try Woo Chon Restaurant (5744 N California Ave) solely on the basis of its strategic location behind a shlubby Korean video store; however, finding a spot with real dolsot bi-bim-bop (hot stone pot-style Korean fried rice) mitigated the anguish of not supping on good ramen in the Chicago city limits. If you’re into K-food, consider yourself duly K-aware. This hidden gem provides genuine Korean cuisine at reasonable lunch prices.


Wednesday the original GCL duo along with Cambridge powerhouse Principal Blackman headed to South Loop in anticipation of a game night at Charades apartment. I have often dismissed the South Loop as a culinary wasteland – high rents and new construction favor mid-brow chain eateries rather than the sort of mom-and-pop independent spots that excite the gastro-venturer. Cafecito (26 E Congress Parkway) goes a long way towards not exactly redeeming but at least assuaging South Loop’s mediocrity. The chimichurri sauce in my choripan could have been a little more playful, but it packed enough zest to maintain my interest. ToucanSam spoke well of the sharpness in his provoletta, and Principal Blackman’s palomilla knocked some of the starch out his stuffy Ivy League cummerbund.

There is something poetic about Chicago institution the Tamale Man – a wandering Johnny Appleseed, only it’s more of a Juan Maiz, if you know what I mean. He might be a marketing genius. His brand would get lost in Pilsen; probably barred from North Side or Wrigleyville; but in frequenting the transitional (read: hipster) neighborhoods of western Chicago such as Logies or Ukrainian Village, he, like a maseca Goldilocks, found the white people niche that was just right to create a new media sensation. I heard about him often enough that when he and his tamale laden cooler were discretely leaving Happy Village (1059 N Wolcott Ave) I knew it was my GCL duty to drop my $5 for his namesake specialty. I can say that like a Mesoamerican Bill Cosby, the proof was indeed in the pork tamale pudding.

I hope that GCL is granted another year to continue its unique brand of food blogging without a safety net. If I put as much effort into my career development as I do into these entries, I would feel like less of a crumbum around my successful and motivated MBA classmates. If I could somehow convince the head of programming for the new, youth-focused Cooking Channel to make a show revolving around GCL, well, that would combine my twin passions for 1) exploring Chicago’s cheap food scene and 2) not holding a real job. I say the only way to atone for the woeful underrepresentation of brown people in broadcast television is to give ToucanSam and me our own show. I can probably scrounge up some vatos locos to march in front of corporate headquarters; ToucanSam’s entourage is like 1.1 billion strong and growing; and Sizzlenutz, well he can probably pull some Hollywood strings at his next Shabbat (wow, was that too Mel Gibson?).

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Valois - good for mandates and girlfriend. Or both at the same time

There were no third wheels on this tricycle. On Saturday, Chittlins, Coolwhip and I went to Valois (1518 E 53rd St) for a post-bacchanal pre-mass brunch. Fortunately the venue provides some anonymity making it the perfect place for a morning-after brunch. Also, let’s face it, its in Hyde Park. Who are you going to run into there? Not that anyone in our threesome had anything to hide. (Although the coats and sweaters on Chittlin’s bed might have a different story to tell.)

Before I get to the food, let me back up for a minute. Two weeks ago, Chittlins marked my triumphant return to Chicago by picking me up in his ride and taking Sizzelnuts and I out for a walk on the beach. If we were in a romantic comedy, we would have taken off our sandals, sat on the pier and made fun of people with metal detectors rummaging in the sand. Wait, that’s exactly what we did. We also tossed around the ‘what does it all mean’ discussion and finished off with berating Chittlins for parking the Scion 2 miles from the beach. The rest of the afternoon was lost in a haze of Chittlins one-liners and Lakers basketball.

Back to the food. Valois claims they should be patronized because only there, can you ‘see your food’. Presumably they are referring to the customer’s ability to watch their food being prepared by the 3 short-order chefs. Unfortunately, their intentions here are better than the resulting effect. ‘Seeing your food’ at Valois should be left to those with a stronger stomach than this patron. I don’t mind the occasional misplaced hair or stray eyelash in my food; I just don’t want to see the Eastern European cook from whence it came.

The whole experience starts with the ordering and finishes 10 feet away at the cash register. Between trying to ‘see your food’, navigating the line and answering the 43 questions (“hash browns? toast? brown/white? keep moving, OJ? coffee? butter? sugar?...” ) seeing the cash register is a relief. After that, the Valois experience becomes a Burger King or Arby’s experience. There’s nothing unique about it.

I ordered the Vegetable Omelet with cheese, hash browns, brown toast, an orange juice and a coffee. All under $8. Good, Clean Licks came under budget for once. The hash browns carried the dish; they were pan fried and left a little raw. The cheese tasted like it was in liquid form before it even got to the omelet, that’s an extra that should be avoided. Overall though, there was satisfaction all around. Coolwhip had the pancakes and Chittlins ordered the French toast. And outside, the Hyde Park Coffee Angels were bringing hot Dunkin Donuts coffee to the homeless. It warmed the heart.