Michael Nagrant

Due to budgetary constraints I can’t buy you a car. Or even a $40 box of croissants from William Sonoma that Oprah loved so much in 2005. Hell, I can’t even tell you if her old personal chef Art Smith’s parmesan goat-cheese biscuits are any good, because scoring reservations to his new spot Table 52 is the culinary equivalent to nabbing Miley Cyrus tickets.

Though, in the spirit of the big O, I can tell you about those bites and dishes that have inspired me lately, the ones I didn’t have space to dedicate a whole column to and have somehow escaped mention. The good news is that most of this stuff is cheap enough that you can afford them without filing a personal line item on Mayor Daley’s 2008 city budget proposal. Though with alderman scheduled to receive a doubling of their office operating budgets as part of the plan, why wouldn’t you try?

Egg Roll, Nathan’s Noodles, 685 North York, Elmhurst, (630)834-1966

The egg roll (not the spring roll) served at this Elmhurst strip-mall stalwart is the best I’ve ever had in Chicagoland including Chinatown or Argyle Street. Stuffed with piquant cabbage, little shrimps, crispy fried a deep mahogany brown, dappled with pockmarks from the hot oil and drizzled with the house sweet spicy dipping sauce, this roll is worth the cost of gas even if you roll in a Cadillac Escalade.

Fresh King Crab, Dirk’s Fish and Gourmet Shop, 2070 North Clybourn, (773)404-3475

There are three kinds of commercial Red King Crab, the frozen kind from big-box chains pumped with salty phosphate preservatives, flash frozen, high-quality unpreserved meat that you might find in high-end restaurants from about February to September and, finally, fresh Alaskan King crab usually caught between October and January. Because of regulation, the Alaskan Red King Crab season is short, and most of us never get a chance to taste the fresh version. Dirk Fucik, owner of Dirk’s, has made arrangements with Alaskan fisherman to send him shipments of unfrozen King Crab until the season ends, probably in November. The fresh legs have an inherent richness, as if they’ve literally been poached low and slow in butter for hours, that’s superior to anything else.

Sweet Corn Flan, Boka, 1729 North Halsted, (312)337-6070

Since I tasted this dessert, I’ve wished that the CornNuts people would file a patent and sell the sweet flakes of toasted dehydrated corn nuggets from this dish at gas stations everywhere. And that’s just the garnish. The culinary atrocities committed by flan against my palate are innumerable: scrambled grainy texture, acrid-burnt caramel, hockey puck custards wobbly with gelatin. At one point you couldn’t get me near a flan, even if it were lying on Scarlett Johansson’s naked body. Boka pastry chef Elizabeth Dahl’s version though wilts in creamy waves under the quick flick of a greedy spoon. A quick bite and sweet corn cream coats the tongue, while a dusting of smoked paprika and tangy blackberry sauce temper the sweetness.

Salsa Jibara, Borinquen Restaurant, 1720 North California, (773)227-6038

The other day while chowing down on Borinquen’s famed steak jibarito, the waitress asked me if I wanted hot sauce. As with all offerings of spicy food, I took it as a challenge to my manhood and accepted. Actually, I said no, but, thankfully my mother-in-law manned up and asked for it. I poured a bit of the sauce on my plate and sopped up a touch with my index finger. My finger is still burning. Despite the loss in dexterity, this sauce, a mixture of Jardinera, Jalapeno, Habanero, Tabasco and Louisiana peppers with a touch of cilantro, has a fruity nuanced heat that blows the "donkey" and "dudes with their heads blowing up" labels off the glass jars at your local grocery.

Marlin Ceviche, Sol de Mexico, 3018 North Cicero, (773)282-1349

I live almost ten miles from this Belmont Cragin joint, but I’ve driven there three times in the last month because of the ceviche: Rich nuggets of marlin sopping with lots of vinegar, lime and cilantro perched on deep-fried corn tortilla triangles. Add a dab of the accompanying tomatillo salsa, and I’ll keep passing up nearby stalwarts like El Barco’s shrimp version, Maxwell Street’s limey octopus cocktel and even Frontera’s assortment forever.

American Gems, Great American Pretzel Company, http://www.greatamericanpretzel.com/

Chocolate covered pretzels channel a lack of culinary creativity on par with tuna tartare or caprese salad. As a result, when I received an unsolicited package of said pretzels, I cast the box aside. But, faced with an impending deadline and another satiating meal of pepperoni Hot Pocket’s, I chose a crinkly bag of "American Gems" from the box for my meal. With their bulbous chocolate covered heads and slender salty handles, they look kind of like a pretzel facsimile of a Hooter’s drumstick. What I didn’t expect was a burst of puffed rice and chewy caramel along with the rich chocolate and pretzel salt, almost like a fresh 100 Grand candy bar. I brought the pretzels to a family gathering, where my cousin, a naval helicopter pilot from Tennessee, confirmed my enthusiasm with his first bite, saying "Damn, these are good."

(2007-10-30)

Also by Michael Nagrant

Czech Please
You can tell the authenticity of a Czech restaurant by the appearance of Kung Pao chicken on its menu. If you don’t believe that, the fact that the Bohemian restaurant Operetta (5653 West Fullerton), which seats about fifty but has only three English-language menus, might validate things
(2007-10-23)

It Takes a Village
On one of my night walks, I spotted an Indian and Pakistani spot, Village restaurant (310A South Canal), located in the basement of the Union Station parking garage four blocks from my condo. It was like a South Asian Edward Hopperesque mirage. The purple efflorescence from the garage lights casts a glow upon the plate-glass windows of the nearly empty restaurant, highlighting a lone brown-skinned proprietor hunkered over a counter intently watching a nattily dressed couple slurping spiced yellow lentils from a steaming bowl of daal
(2007-10-16)

Invisible Strings
If you comped me a $300 meal at one of Chicago’s top restaurants, I believe I’d be able to write honestly about it. That being said, it would be impossible for the reading public to know what’s in my heart, and, admittedly, it’s possible some unintended subjectivity might creep in. That’s why I never write critically about free meals. This of course includes friends and family cooking, which has had the unintended but delightful consequence of keeping me invited to dinner parties and in good standing with my mother-in-law. That’s not to say I’ve never taken a free meal
(2007-10-09)

A Tale of Two Luxury Pours
Though I was generally soured on perceived luxury, the last week provided an opportunity to redeem my faith and see if the sound and fury surrounding a couple of expensive quaffs signified something real. On Friday, Eno, the wine and cheese bar in the Hotel Intercontinental, poured a 1945 Chateau Latour ($250 for a two-ounce pour), and on Monday night, local micro-roaster Intelligentsia served up the most expensive coffee in the world (they paid $130 a pound at auction), Geisha, from the Panamanian plantation Hacienda La Esmeralda
(2007-10-02)

Food Porn Files
(2007-09-18)

Enchantment Under the Sea
(2007-09-11)

A Pie Worth the Drive
(2007-08-28)

Mercury Falling
(2007-08-21)

Release the Grapes
(2007-08-14)

Chain Gang
(2007-08-07)

This American Plant Life
(2007-07-10)

Au Revoir Ambria
(2007-07-02)

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