Viewing entries tagged
cafe

Now that you're finished giving up something, eat this...C.B.A.!

C.B.A. Chicago Bagel Authority. Enough said. Oh. My. God. I know what you’re thinking, “bagels? really? boring.” Rest easy because it’s not simply a bagel place. Oh no, it’s so much more than a bagel place. Steamed bagel sandwiches. That’s right. Steamed, mmm, such a sexy word. Steam. I’m getting hungry again and I’m fairly certain I’ve yet to digest my last sandwich from this blessed place. We first got wind of this place by walking the wrong direction on Armitage attempting to meet friends for dinner at a nearby tapas restaurant. Seeing the sandwiches being prepared through the window was enough to stop us in our tracks and set the intention to visit the establishment soon. And so we did.

C.B.A., as it’s affectionately known to Chicago residents, is situated just steps west from the Armitage (New location on Belmont! Right near the EL station) Brown/Purple line stop, in the heart of Lincoln Park. Probably one of the most charming areas of the city, with beautiful Amsterdam-like architecture, tree-lined streets, and a plethora of boutiques and restaurants, to suit any taste. Just upon entering C.B.A. you’re greeted with a waft of delicious smells you can almost taste. Meat and cheese mainly, but other goodies as well. It has a very casual charm, exposed brick lining the interior, a few rectangular high tables toward the back and a couple cozy booths perched next to the windows, mostly inhabited by moms and toddlers. Avoid it weekday late mornings, later afternoon is best as that’s when the children and moms are napping. There are random photos, drawings, and subtle odes to the Ohio State University Buckeyes, as the owners are from Ohio. No need to worry Wolverine fans, it’s a subtle homage, almost lazy in it’s execution, which adds to it’s charm, so damn casual. The staff is very friendly, at any time of day, and are composed of mostly young, relaxed bagophiles. There’s some cute ladies for the men to enjoy and one AHdorable gentleman, who despite being with my husband I make a bee line for each visit. C.B.A. is no doubt ripe with delicious meat.

The menu is broken down by the type of meat, including 7-10 veggie options that hold their weight against any meaty selection. There’s also a breakfast menu and the option to simply pick a basic bagel, prepared in-house, including a wide variety of spreads and bagels with specific flavors, whatever you fancy. There are easily 50 sandwich choices, all come steamed, and they’re described in chicken scratch on 3 large chalk boards behind the employees. For the convenience of those with regular sight, or worse, they provide menus at the bar where the sandwich artists line up and you simply let them know you’re selection, pay the cashier, be sure to tip and go anxiously wait for what will be a life-changing sandwich.

Now, at this point I’ve had at least 10 of their sandwiches, including breakfast, veggie, and at least one from each meat column. None of them, zero, have been bad or even mediocre. All have made me make the “O” face. Today, for the first time, I ordered a sandwich I’d had in the past. It’s called the Messy Katy. It’s not even on the chalk board! It’s turkey, sliced ever so thin and piled generously with avocado, tomato, sprouts, cream cheese, honey mustard, and here’s the kicker, steamed on Bialy. What’s Bialy? Those familiar with bigger cities, New York in particular, will be well acquainted with baily and all its glory. The shortest way to describe it is a bagel hooked up with an english muffin and had nothing short than the bread equivalent of a Brangelina type child. There’s no hole, its not steamed and then baked, just baked. I think. Ah, well. It’s the perfect texture and flavor for a sandwich, slightly salty, soft enough, not too thick for the sandwich and it’s co-habitants. All sandwiches have adorably clever names like the DePaul Ruben, Hide the Salami, the Ritz and so on. Again, all are highly satisfying, cleverly designed, the flavors complimenting each other perfectly and the accompanying bagel flavor perfectly snuggling and rounding out each bite. Most importantly, they’re made with love. The employees seem sincerely jazzed about their little hole in the wall and love to share in their customer’s enthusiasm.

The good people of C.B.A. gave their labor of love a name befitting of their product. They are the authority on bagels here in Chicago. We’ve made it a weekly trip. They have free wifi for customers, a cooler of tasty beverages to wash down your even tastier grub, and a selection of high quality potato chips with accompanying flavors, and for real fatty’s like myself, uber fantastic rice krispie treats, smore cereal bars, and large chocolate chip cookies. You can consume the food pyramid in one sitting and I encourage you to do so. Prices range from 5-7 bucks a sandwich, well worth it. They have a punch card for frequent customers. I hit my free sandwich milestone today.

Everyone’s life could be steamier. This is a great place to start. Enjoy.

A boost at any time of day: Pick-Me-Up Cafe

Pick-Me-Up Cafe We’d lived in Chicago a good 6 months before stumbling across this national treasure. Well, local treasure. We live on Addison, steps west of Wrigley, yes, wise decision for people who enjoy falling asleep at 11 and rising at 730, but I saw the big red sign and for a life-long baseball fan new to this wonderful city, the tractor beam sucked me right in. The life and energy the losers called the Cubs bring to this neighborhood is unmatched and at times it’s annoying, but mostly it’s just fun. On one of the annoying nights, the Saturday before St. Patty’s day, which fell on a fricken Thursday this year, so 5 days before the day, people are giving themselves permission to act like drunken idiots as early as 11 a.m. that day. Poor Ireland. I’ve been there. And yes they like their drink, but none of them acted like these American buffoons. What a beautiful, respectful way to pay homage to the Emerald Isle.

Anyhoo, back on message. You have the back-story. We deliberately walked around Addison and Clark, the ground zero of idiotic behavior and grouping, to find a place to eat on Broadway or Halsted, in a slightly more civilized, quiet drunk kind of area. We did that thing where you walk and walk and say “how about here?” Read the menu, hem and haw, then say “nah” and keep walking. So frustrating this custom, especially when you get rage hungry like I do. We stop in this awesome looking place in our shabby clothing, bulky coats, and overall shameful attire and attitude, all to be embarrassed when asked what time our reservation is for and ultimately made aware of not only the clientele but also the popularity of this establishment. Epic fail. Lesson learned.

Walking again. I decide we are going to the Chicago Diner, just a block west on Halsted, because it’s DElightful, its got a young hipster vibe, which I don’t have. As an old soul with little interest in style, I don’t belong anywhere but my friends and husband fit right in there and I at least have visible tattoos which will get me in the door. Oh and I experiment with vegetarianism, double rainbow. Naturally, 45 minute wait. Balls. The adorable, most-likely gay host tells us of a couple diners with a similar vibe, Pick Me Up being one of them. See how I finally bring it back to the task at hand? 30 second break to pat myself on back.............Ok. That’s better.

Soooo, we walk, again, this time back toward our neighborhood, to the very street we were avoiding in the first place, Clark street! Gah! Idiots. Pick Me Up is situated in this awesome flat-iron shaped building, nestled between an al’s italian beef (to be discussed soon) and some random store, probably a head shop. What am I a tour guide? Look it up! It’s got an cutesie large three dimensional coffee cup perched on top next to a sign with the restaurant’s very name. We walk in two separate doors that most mid-western folk could not squeeze into sideways and approach the host, wearing too cool for school scenester glasses who hands us our menus and tells us kindly to sit wherever we’d like. Yep, it’s that kind of place. The tables are all different, they have a diner look and vibe, plastic soft seats or booths, metal rimming edging the tables, but they take it up an artsy notch and make the tables strange shapes. Fuck the square and rectangles of yesteryear. No, we’re not even going round, we’re going full on what the fuck is this and how many people is this designed to sit? 5? It’s strangely awesome of course. You get cool points for being there, which helps me because I always feel parched and in need of those points.

We sit. In 10 minutes Winnie Cooper from the fricken Wonder Years!!! comes to wait on us. I swear! Derek says no, but I swear guys! She’s fricken A.DOR.ABLE. I love her, immediately. My angry hunger from the walk and rejection from previous eateries has surpassed and I’m in nostalgic heaven. Winnie Cooper looks the same, puppy dog brown eyes, long straight brown hair, bangs, sweet smile, but now she’s a regular badass because both of her arms are coated in tattoos, full on sleeves! Omg, I could not admire her more. I want you all to see her. Ok, anyway, I order a felafel pita. Derek orders their club sandwich. These sound like regular ole boring items but when you’re sitting at an irregular shaped table, with an uber-inked Winnie Cooper as your waitress you want a little normalcy. I enjoyed my wrap tremendously, particularly the generous helping of hummus inside said pita, as I’m a whore for hummus and I consume it on a daily basis, no matter what my gastrointestinal tract has to say about it. Or anyone else for that matter. Derek felt his club was the best thing since the sliced bread that surrounded the characters inside the sandwich and we left with a pep in our step and one of Pick me Up’s famous brownies. No they’re not some hippie dippie sweet one would find in Amsterdam. That’s the only thing that would have made it better. Just a regular ole brownie but it was tasty.

The bill was reasonable, the staff super cool, relaxed and friendly, and the combination of random shit on the walls and tables, mixed with the eclectic diner style menu made for a very pleasant experience. It’d be great with a group, lunch date with a friend, lunch date with a book, or a quick cup of soup, as I forgot to mention their soups are awesome! We’ve since been back multiple times and I may write about those experiences in a future blog when I’m struggling for material.

Enjoy. Eat. Live long and prosper. Thanks for reading.