David Witter

Chicago's Southeast Side was once a showcase for American industrial might, as immigrants from two continents crowded into factories and mills that belched smoke and shot flames into the sky twenty-four hours a day.

Today, weeds obliterate abandoned parking lots. Vacant areas the size of football fields are filled with rusted scrap metal, asphalt piles and slag heaps. The buildings that housed Wisconsin Steel are massive empty hangars, rusting like giant tin cans left on the beach.

Yet amongst the salt domes and turbid water of the Calumet River, a world within a world exists. In the area between 103rd Street, Brainard and Torrence Avenues, well-kept bungalows signal an ethnic enclave that has not even seen the first hints of gentrification. This same lack of change and strong ethnic identity has also resulted in a neighborhood filled with unique bars and eateries.

In no place is this more evident than La Birrieria Ocotlan. Located at 4001 E. 106th and Avenue B, it sits in the shadow of The Skyway, a hundred yards from the Indiana border. As a birrieria it deals exclusively in the meat of goat and baby goat, as well as the head and organ meats of the cow. Walking into the small storefront shop you see goat bones, goat meat, and goat legs being chopped into pieces and thrown into a giant glass case that sits under a hot light.

The menu is simple, but most start meals with a bowl of goat soup. A mixture of goat and beef broth, lemon and lime juice and cilantro, it is filled with what must be a half pound of meat. Stewed to tender perfection, goat does not taste as you might imagine--or fear. Instead of being tough and stringy like the billy goats themselves, the meat is tender and flavorful. Since the animals are so thin and wiry, the meat is incredibly lean. It has a strong flavor, but tastes less gamy than most lamb.

For five dollars, this bowl of soup and a few homemade tortillas would fill up the heartiest of mill workers, but the specialty of the house is the goat taco. The taste of the meat is so pungent that it does not need the extra flavor and texture of a corn tortilla. Served on flour tortillas, they are accented with a hint of cilantro, and homemade pepper sauce that combines red and pascilla peppers with the black pepper and vinegar bite of a Southeastern American barbecue sauce.

The restaurant also features beef tacos made of lengua (tongue) cabeza (head) cacheté (cheek) and higado (liver). Out of these, the most tender and flavorful is the exotic meat of the cachete. Gringo plates, topped with lettuce and melted cheese, do not exist at this mostly a la carte establishment. You come here for the goat.

As a Mexican community, the Southeast Side is the oldest in the city, with Mexicans arriving and establishing churches in the 1920s. Serbians mark the other predominant ethnic group in the area. A thriving example of a traditional Southeast Side Serbian restaurant/bar is the Small World Inn.

Located at 3325 East 106th, it is far closer to the industrial ruins of Wisconsin Steel. Run by Wally Nicodijevic, it is a shot and beer joint with a relatively expansive menu made up mostly of traditional Serbian dishes. The top lunch attractions, the veal and pork tenderloin, are pounded thin, breaded and fried, and served on a bed of hearty dark white Serbian bread with tomatoes and mayonnaise. What stands out are the portions. For six dollars you get enough meat and tomato to fill eight slices of bread, or the equivalent of four regular-sized sandwiches.

Dinner selections include pork chops, Serbian hamburger, shish kabobs, seasonal fish specials and cevapicici. The cevapicici are skinless, highly textured, flavorful sausages. Char-grilled on the outside, they are served with hot Hungarian peppers and thickly chopped onions on Serbian bread. Like the pork and veal tenderloin, the portions are enormous--a dinner selection featured fourteen sausages stacked like Lincoln logs on the plate. Although not as tasty as the Bosnian version served on Syrian bread, they still make for a very welcome break from traditional bar food. The same can be said for the Serbian hamburger, which is filled with spicy and flavorful seasonings, and offered in dinner portions large enough to feed two men.

A little Northeast, where the Calumet River crosses Highway 41 (South Shore Drive), salt domes and steel bridges dot the landscape as barges filled with iron and ore make their way out to the Indiana mills. The view from the bridge, along with the food at The Birrieria and atmosphere at The Small World Inn, testify to the life that goes on beneath The Skyway. Arriving long before the gambling boats, it survives among the great industrial ghosts that dance in the neighborhood winds.

La Birrieria, 4001 E. 106th and Avenue B, (773)277-4116

Small World Inn, 3325 E. 106th, (773)721-2727

(2003-11-05)

Also by David Witter

Young Turks
Like a blast from a giant hookah pipe, Turkish food, led by the mini cult craze of Shwarma, is threading its way into the tapestry of mainstream Chicago dining
(2003-08-13)

BAR NONE
In Chicago, the standard bar food usually consists of cheeseburgers, wings, nachos and chili. Even worse, some places get away with charging eight dollars for heating a frozen pizza.
(2001-04-26)

BRAIN MATTERS
In America, eating cow, lamb and other animal brains conjures visions of rural poverty or characters from horror films. Yet whether you call them sweet breads (Greek, French), sesos (Mexican), or any other name, people around the world not only regularly eat meat from the head, neck and brain area, but consider it a gourmet treat.
(2001-01-11)

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