|
|
chicago home
events calendar
bars & clubs restaurants specials best of chicago 
art
film and video food and drink music and clubs stage style words sports features |
|
|
 
THE BIG CHEESE Finding the best of a comfort food fave
Macaroni and cheese isn't classy. Imagine your surprise (horror?) if, among the encyclopedic wine lists and magical emulsions at Blackbird, Vong or any other restaurant of the moment, you found anything sounding like macaroni and cheese. The college kid's comfort dish isn't particularly healthy either. Sure, you get protein, calcium and carbs, but does that matter when there's a glistening moat of butter standing between your fork and the noodles? But oh, the list of pros weigh heavy, like a poundful of Kraft Cheese and Macaroni at three in the morning when you're crawling into bed. Macaroni and cheese is cheap. And most importantly, macaroni and cheese is damn good. Go ahead and feel sorry for the lactose-intolerant or the vegan who can't indulge in this wonder food. So where can you get a plate of the mac outside your kitchen? Your options are plentiful and varied, in preparation method, noodle and even cheese. Let's start with Hillary's, a charming beacon of unabashed friendliness in east Wicker Park. The first time I had mac and cheese here, I was disappointed, but somebody obviously grabbed the reins before it was too late. Now they've fairly perfected a humble potion of rigatoni noodles with a heavy, sometimes over-floury cream sauce that admittedly strays far from the traditional, but proves tasty all the same. When I called Hillary's to sweet talk them into revealing what exactly is in the sauce, they wisely called my bluff and told me that they could probably tell me, "but we'd have to kill you." They did, however, admit to baking it, an important and defining factor for what makes a fine mac and cheese, and the best selling point for Hillary's version. Baking it gives mac–or, in this case, rigatoni--and cheese the yummy, crusty-crunchy bits of dairy goodness on the ends of the noodles, which helps to cut the gloppyness that sometimes plagues the dish. If you take a walk into the more commercial terrain of Wicker Park, you can have mac and cheese at Zoom Kitchen, a sleek chrome-and-blue bastion of relatively cheap, delicious food. Using corkscrew noodles, Zoom has concocted a peppery, tangy, Southwest version that takes the dish beyond comfort food. You'll find chunks of tomato, red pepper and a sauce that isn't slick with grease, but spiced with paprika and pepper. Though it's sold as a side dish, it doesn't make a bad meal. Like most restaurants with rotating chefs, some days have found their fusili and cheese a little livelier than others, so it's a good idea to eye the merchandise before purchasing. Like wine, you can tell much from mac and cheese by smell, color and presentation, and though you may balk at using connoisseur techniques for such an Americana-addled food, it helps. With that in mind, take a walk down to Smoke Daddy. Within the confines of the snug, forties-loving club, I was served steamy mac and cheese in a bowl with a big soup spoon, while somebody wailed on a washboard on the stereo. I only wish someone named Gladys--complete with giant red beehive, stained apron and bad attitude--had served it. But I'll take this comforting blend of pure creamy cheddar--likely a blend of sharp and mild--and macaroni, flecked with bits of red pepper. This is a traditionalist's delight, unfussed with nouveau anything. Not the same kind words can be said about Silver Cloud's similar take. Copping a likewise served-by-Mom style (though my waiter was a bleached-hair hipster, but hey, close enough), Silver Cloud also serves their traditional pasta dish in a bowl with a soup spoon. All systems go, until you're about halfway through this torrent of grease and sticky cheese. There is just too much butter in that thing! You know that feeling--like you've eaten so much bloating, greasy food it's filling your esophagus? Well, hello! I could barely navigate my way through this decent, but nothing-to-holler-about dish. The South likes to preserve, if not detrimentally so, our best and worst food creations. Go south of the Mason-Dixon and you can get grits, chicken-fried steak, okra and, in many places, a stringy mass of macaroni and cheese. So you would think that Wishbone, where Hoppin' John takes the stage in all it's simple, Southern splendor, would get this easy dish right. Not so. I was served a paltry blend of rigatoni with an anemic cheese sauce covering the noodles with all the success of a high-school kid trying to cover ass with one of those towels they give you in gym. Not impressive. However, after I ate the scrappy noodles, I noticed a little pool of tasty cheese sauce; maybe Wishbone would do best to thicken their sauce a bit so it all stays together. So whether you like your mac and cheese funky and unexpected, or traditional and unchallenging, you've got plenty of options. But don't forget about that blue box with its envelope of curious orange powder, always available to make "a meal for four in nine minutes." Hillary's Urban Eatery, 1500 West Division, (773)235-4327 Also by Margaret Wappler MARKET VALUE
CHEEZ WHIZ!
SUNSHINE SUPERSTARS
Restaurant Review
RESTAURANT REVIEW
POPULARITY SLIDE
AMERICAN DREAMS
WEED EATERS
Funky Buddhism
FRANKENFRUIT
RESTAURANT REVIEW
RESTAURANT REVIEW
|
|
about Newcitychicago | about Newcity magazine | advertising | privacy policy | FAQ | employment |
