Showing posts with label Hyde Park. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hyde Park. Show all posts

Friday, October 16, 2009

Rajun Cajun – Curry and apology

A California-raised Mexican and an East Coast-raised Indian make strange bedfellows (note: not literally bedfellows), but I think the rapport between ToucanSam and I stems in part from our mutual estrangement to our respective cultures. A light-skinned surfer playing waterpolo in Orange County does not traditionally connote Latino. Similarly Vanderbilt undergrad, albeit in computer science, does not, to use the parlance of Hollywood, “read” Gujarati to me.

Of course, in the testosterone-driven environment of business school, neither of us can display unqualified vulnerability. Case in point: this email reply I received from ToucanSam regarding some editing suggestions I had sent to him earlier:

"I’m not going to read this shit.. Too many words. I love you. I hope it is published. Did I just say I love you? I’m not sure I meant it."

In any case, we settle into a friendship based on, from what I can tell, complaining about people and things - mostly people (sample conversation, “How did ____ land an offer from [prestigious, big name firm]? The guy’s a dumbass! I have lost all respect for [aforementioned prestigious firm]”).

In that spirit, the autumn drizzle set the subdued tone for Thursday evening’s ManDate to Rajun Cajun (1459 E 53rd St). The soft, yellow glow permeating the interior diffused a general sense of wellbeing that made me feel in a “safe space”. I could have curled up on the floor in the fetal position and imagined myself back in the womb. And I did.

I usually avoid food that’s been lying out under heat lamps, but a healthy turnover at Rajun Cajun prevents the unappetizing congealment of foods. ToucanSam opted for the vegetarian platter of dal, saag paneer, samosa and paratha (basically an Indian tortilla, because when all you have is a hammer everything starts to look like a nail). I opted for the butter chicken curry with a side of baigan aloo, samosa and paratha. Both of us got a free snicker bars because it was the eve of some Hindu holiday. The evening almost took an ugly turn when I tried ToucanSam’s saag paneer re-using the same spork from my butter chicken curry (now that’s what I call the omnivore’s dilemma). Fortunately ToucanSam let bygones be bygones in the sense that he still brings it up and will probably continue to do so for the rest of our natural lives.

All in all, as a genuine Indian, ToucanSam gave Rajun Cajun the thumbs up. Last March I traveled to India but since I studiously avoided eating what real Indians eat, I did not earn the requisite cultural cache to make definitive pronouncements.
The food was good given the healthy portions, relatively low price for Indian fare and especially the fact that this as a fusion Indian/American soul food establishment. I was more than satisfied with my meal though ToucanSam’s saag paneer (a spinach and mustard leaf based curry) won this reviewer’s award for the evening. The real saucy dishes at Rajun Cajun however are the proprietors – ah, the joys of interacting with small business owners that don’t bother to learn occidental notions of customer service. I want to emphasize that this is actually a plus on the Rajun Cajun column.

Friendship, like food, comes in different varieties for different tastes. If you are like me, you choose the spice over the bland and accept the risk of being singed.

Friday, September 25, 2009

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?