Those horrible haunts have two things in common. One, they’re all chain restaurants. Corporate chow slingers are much less likely to give a shit about the cookie-cutter cuisine they’re hawking. Second, all those hellholes were located in the suburbs. I’ve found you can keep nasty dining outings to a happy minimum by staying away from chains, and not venturing outside city limits.
Sadly, this isn’t to say my restaurant-going experiences in The Windy City have been all unicorns and rainbows. While relatively rare, there are two visits that stick in my craw:

Before schlepping to Second City, I moseyed into an Old Town sandwich shop to grab a sub. The guy behind the counter saw me, but didn’t say hello. He didn’t say anything, actually—no ‘can I take your order?’ nothing. Being a champion of ‘the customer is king’ concept, I stood my ground and refused to greet him. I stood there and stared, waiting for him to break the silence. You’d think the guy would come out with, “Why are you just staring at me, you crazy broad?” at the least, but no. What was supposed to be a simple exchange of pleasantries, sandwich and cash, turned into the weirdest staring contest I’ve ever been party to. After a full minute of staredown, my money and I went elsewhere.

A Lincoln Ave kitschy restaurant has an exterior festooned with an outdoorsy motif—bears, lumberjacks, and other stuff hunters might fancy are painted on the walls. The theme continues inside, with log-cabin décor and a game-heavy menu. I come from a long line of people that shoot their food while drinking Old Milwaukee, so I fully support the concept. Woefully, the reality of this place was a gigantic disappointment. They were, almost literally, out of everything. I ordered buffalo—out. What about the venison? Nope. Walleye? Sorry. Pouting, I asked for the catfish platter—nearly 45 minutes later, everyone else had their food, while my placemat was still naked. Finally, the waitress practically threw a plate in front of me—it was the saddest piece of dried-up catfish, held hostage between two halves of a grocery-store bun that looked like it’d been run over by a Ford F-150. It made a Filet O’Fish look like haute damned cuisine.

Like the suburban chains I steer clear of, these two restaurants have one thing in common: Both the sub shop and gamey restaurant are closed. Gee, I wonder why?

Have you ever had a horrible experience at a Chicago restaurant? Share your thoughts with us @CETVMouthful

By

Jenni Spinner

This time of year there is not a lot you can depend on.  The March Madness Bracket that you were confidant was going to be a clear winner has gone to hell, and the weather is so wildly inconsistent that you have to leave the house in rain boots, sunglasses, gloves, and a scarf.  But, thankfully, you can always count on BYOB for a good time. I should note that I do not include places that charge you $10+ corkage fee as BYOB – seriously, when the bottle of wine I brought with me costs $10 I almost have to laugh at your attempt to charge me am equal amount to open it.  There is no better feeling than knocking back several bottle of vino with your friends after a long week and than receiving the gloriously low check.  Do you want appetizers?  Absolutely!  Dessert?  Why not.  You can rest easy (and full) when you didn’t spend $35 ordering the second cheapest¹ bottle of wine on the menu (which you know you can buy for $9 at your local grocery store).   Chicago is a city full of fantastic BYOB restaurants.  Besides the usual sushi and Asian route you can get Cuban, Mediterranean, BBQ, and some ridiculously good Argentinean steak as well.  So throw on your winter boots, pack your umbrella, grab your favorite cheap bottle of red and treat yourself to a great night out.  After this winter you deserve it.

By:
Rachel Ford

Last week I was lucky enough to be invited to something unlike anything I had ever experienced. It was sort of like stepping into a movie… if that movie was Fight Club meets Animal House meets Spinal Tap meets a big ass bag of charcoal. I am speaking of course about an official Man-B-Que.

What is a Man-B-Que? Well, if you were to ask ten different guys exactly what a Man-B-Que is, you will most definitely get ten different answers. At its core, it is an outlet for men to eat meat, drink beer, bitch about Chicago sports teams and tell jokes that your mother would disown you for repeating.

So there I was at an apartment in Oak Park that had Black Sabbath blaring and smelled of PBR and seasoning salt. Some guys were doing serious prep work for the evening, while others were bringing up trays of sausages fresh from the grill. The fridge was filled with about 10 different parts from various mammals. I was somewhat taken a back by all of this, it couldn’t have been further from what I expected. Not that I underestimated the guys involved, but I thought I was walking into a place where a bunch of guys stand around a grill and throw down some previously frozen hot dogs and burger patties while talking about which Kardashian they would rather kick it to (the topic did come up, but I think that was my fault more than anything) but that could not be further from the truth.

A Man B Que is about great beer (which sometimes means as long as it is cold) and taking meat VERY seriously. Guys wearing dirty Blackhawks caps and old concert tees stood around talking about how they spiced there own lamb, beef, and pork sausages while others grilled Pork Tenderloins that had been in a Jerk marinade for what tasted like days, and “The Godfather” was prepping his winner for the evening, devil turds (a jalapeno stuffed with queso fresco and chorizo, wrapped in bacon, and grilled to perfection……named not so much for how they taste but for how your body reacts 6-12 hours after ingesting them.) But the most important thing to any Man-B-Que is that everyone gets a chance to try everything. You bring your meat and dishes so everyone else can enjoy them, something you don’t find at many social gatherings. The guys there genuinely want everyone to enjoy what they have to offer. There is no admission fee or rules to follow. It’s all about men being men (well boys being boys, but you get the idea.) You rarely see a napkin or plate being used. For those quick to judge, it’s not that anyone there hates women (well one guy was going through a nasty divorce so he might be excluded) but generally speaking, men (those who want to attract woman) usually try and tone down there otherwise disgusting habits (i.e. letting grease travel down their arms, chewing with their mouths full, letting beer cover their chins like it cures razor burn) but at a Man-B-Que, we can act like the animals that we are constantly eating. And that my friends, is what makes Man-B-Que an all encompassing experience. Passionate meat connoisseurs, being themselves, because that is all they are capable of.

Check them out here: Man-B-Que

Jeff Maimon

Email Us Here!

Valentine’s Day in college is best spent out drinking and not competing with actual adults for reservations at the handful of quality restaurants in most college towns.  Being an adult is the worst as there are actual expectations of romance to deal with. Most people would rather avoid eye contact with that cute person they see at the bar in January then get stuck having to decide whether they have an obligation to go out with their new man friend or lady friend on Valentine’s Day.  If you make the bold move of deciding yes, as opposed to not answering your phone for two weeks, do you have to get them a small gift? Where do you take them?  What if Mr. New Guy is allergic to chocolate or is a vegan? (Let’s be honest, I’ve never had to worry about that, no self respecting vegan is ever going to ask my cheeseburger worshipping butt out).

It may be a little bit easier to be in a relationship mid-February, as your obligations to associate are clearly spelled out for you, but trying to get a restaurant reservation past the 10th is best described as not fun.  You can always try the “I absolutely intended to take you to dinner at 3:15 pm on a Saturday because I want to spend as much time with you as possible tonight” route.  I’m a huge fan of utilizing the “I didn’t forget it was Valentine’s Day, again, I just wanted to relax at home with a great movie and a home cooked meal.”  Despite all these minor annoyances the light at the end of the tunnel is usually some great drinks and a solid meal.  Whether it be out at a bar with your friends (no longer avoiding eye contact with strangers), ordering some great deep dish at home, or dunking stuff in hot oil and cheese at a packed fondue restaurant, there will be food.   At the end of the day Valentine’s Day is really just another excuse to eat a really good meal (and to buy some fabulously cheap candy on the 15th).

By:

Rachel Ford

This weekend, if you’re kind of dreading that you might walk into a couples-infested bar that smells like roses and makes your spring allergies set in early, come to a bar crawl in Lincoln Park.  For just 25 bucks, this Screw Cupid Bar Crawl is sure to get you so drunk with the free beer and mystery punch that you’ll have no clue what day it is, let alone that it’s the most depressing holiday of the year. That is unless you’ve celebrated your 30th birthday this year and you’re still working at Wendy’s, then Valentine’s Day might be a little bit better.

The 11th Annual Screw Cupid Bar Crawl includes trolley service between all the participating bars:  McGee’s, The Wrightwood Tap, Durkin’s, Duffy’s, Redmond’s and Maeve. You can start your crawl with your platonic friends at any of the bars. For 25 bucks, the package includes the trolley, beer, “love” punch, and food are all included. You can get all the deets here.

So, if you’ve been to any of these bars, you know they are little dude-bro, but they are fun despite it. I wouldn’t expect an amazing spread at these bars, but who’s going for the food anyway? If you’re about food that night, you and your Chinese takeout should consider getting a room downtown for a special night and hot tub access. But if you like nineteen year-old-girls who are a little desperate on Valentines Day, or guys that are sure to be wearing pink polo shirts, come out for a beer-soaked Valentines Day in Lincoln Park. I just hope none of you leave covered in Love punch. Sounds messy.

I’d also like it to be noted, that no, I don’t happen to work at any of these fine drinking establishments or know the organizers of the event. No one asked me to plug bar crawl. I just googled fun stuff to do on Valentine’s Day and then I saw the word: Trolley. It was then that I pretty much knew my fate was sealed. So while no one paid me to write this article, I will gladly accept monetary compensation from anyone who wants to surprise me with a few free drinks that evening. I won’t say no. Look for me and my lesbian friends who are probably wearing flannels in protest of all things pink.  But fair warning, odds are we’ll end up in skin revealing tank tops, skinny jeans, and painful heels all in the name of finding some weird dude to make out with on a trolley. Which reminds me, will someone tell me to remember to bring a camera?

John Barleycorn Schaumburg is similar to its locations in Wrigleyville and Lincoln Park in its atmosphere and menu, which let’s face it, is really nothing special.  However, the Barleycorn in Schaumburg is just HUGE. Walk in downstairs, and there’s plenty of room for dining and drinking. The second floor masquerades as a “club area”, with a dance floor with tons of space and multiple bars to keep the drinks flowing.

We paid ten bucks for the show, which was normal, but the drinks weren’t super cheap. In my own humble opinion that is usually always right, if you’re in the ‘burbs, a vodka soda should not cost the same as it does in the city.  Period.I was really impressed with the concert space. The stage was vast and elevated, giving the audience a great view of the band. The concert was awesome, but who doesn’t like a Beatles band that changes their super queer outfits with each era? When the show ended at about 10:30, the place transformed from a casual, laidback older crowd to a club-a-club dance scene playing the latest songs and beaty remixes.  If you like places that are sort of obnoxious, this is your new place.

If you like Affliction t-shirts and somehow Ed Hardy turns you on, you’ll be delighted with the crowd at Barleycorn, you can fist pump to their live DJs and watch the half-naked go-go dancers on stage. Even though this place wasn’t really my typical scene, my friends and I owned the dance floor despite being the most conservatively dressed women in our shirts with sleeves and average cleavage. But we started to fit in after doing our best impression of the Jersey Shore kids and ordering more vodka sodas from the over-bronzed but super-friendly boobalicious bartenders.
Bottom line: If there’s a band you want to see playing at this venue, it’s definitely worth checking out. The space is truly what makes John Barleycorn bearable, amidst all the bros bro-ing out and the girls skanking it up. It’s not the classiest establishment, but if you like making fun of the people around you and grinding with strangers, you’ll probably have a great time. Just remember to bring extra cash for those expensive vodka sodas.

By:

Ashley Spencer