You Want Unreal BBQ? Have A Smoque

Being from the embarrassing cousin to the south, Florida, I have a pretty strong appreciation for good barbecue. I grew up visiting my father in North Carolina, Mississippi, and Georgia while visiting other loved ones in Tennessee and Alabama. I also lived in Texas for two years. I feel similar with BBQ as I do with Mexican food and pizza; I can eat pretty shitty BBQ and still enjoy myself, but I prefer the amazing stuff, of course. I’ve written about a couple BBQ joints here in Chicago which I enjoyed thoroughly, but nothing compares to my recent experience at Smoque. I left uttering those famous last words, “best barbecue ever.” Smoque is located on north Pulaski and Grace avenue, just south of the Irving Park blue line stop. This northwest side neighborhood is unchartered territory for me. This city is too huge for me to ever explore it all. The amount of restaurants I’ll never eat in is a soul-crushing reminder every day of my life, but I’ll do what I can, I’ll bite off as much as I can chew and afford and regurgitate my experience here if it’s worth it. And Smoque is unbelievably worth it. Holy hell in a hand basket.

We went fairly late in the evening on a Friday night. They close at 10 p.m. There’s almost always a line out the door. If this flummoxes you, turns you off or makes you hesitant to visit, don’t listen to your brain. Listen to your belly and your heart and go challenge them both with the most flavorful, tender meat you’ll ever consume. While you wait in line you can gawk at the people who’re already eating, try to figure out what they ordered and feel out what excites you the most. I went with mostly new visitors and one person who’d dined there once. He insisted we order certain items and given my indecisiveness when ordering food, I let him lead the way. He ordered for us both, 1950’s style, and the little lady that I am was relegated to my seat to anxiously await my succulent food.

For the longest time, I have been dry rub resistant. I’m not allergic. I don’t hate it. I just don’t love it. At times the ribs I’ve ingested in the past that were dry rub were just that, dry. I like me some juicy meat, so tender it’ll quench your thirst. I was astounded by the incredible flavor of Smoque’s dry rub ribs. Not only was the combination of spices interesting and wildly delicious, but the meat fell right off the bone and into my mouth with ease. Not to be outdone was the brisket, that easily shredded with a light amount of pressure from my plastic fork. Their two sauce options were each perfect additions. My fork ventured over to the spicy side more, but the sweet rocked my world as well.

I loved their coleslaw, a side item I’ve loathed for most of my life, in particular mayo based coleslaw. I love mayonnaise, don’t get me wrong, but the snotty consistency in most coleslaws left me underwhelmed and unimpressed. I enjoy a good NC style vinegar slaw and this was almost a Midwestern twist. No mayo, vinegar base, refreshing and satisfying. Their mac n’ cheese was pretty stellar. It looked, smelled and tasted homemade, made extra special with a bread crumb topping. Yum. I enjoyed my taste of their baked beans very much, as well as the peach cobbler we ordered in droves.

This place is an indulgence. I care very much about how my body runs and how consciously I’m eating. I love animals and I am very concerned not only with how this country processes meat, with how the animals are treated and therefore how the food we are consuming makes its way to my plate, but also with the quality of food I choose to digest. Eating BBQ everyday is most likely a one way ticket to diabetes and other health related issues, but treating yourself to a place like Smoque is something every human being deserves. I shared a rack of ribs, side of brisket, coleslaw, mac n cheese and peach cobbler with my love and it was more than enough. Savor every bite. Lick your fingers. When something is above average good, it doesn’t take much to satisfy. And that rule applies to more than just food.

With food, friends, beverages and daily choices, quality is always important and moderation is key. I genuinely believe we can enjoy all the fruits of this amazing existence healthily, by providing our own balance. Eat those greens and the nutritious offerings from nature and then pepper it with some treats, some tender meat, a small but satisfying portion of cheesey goodness, and maybe a little sweetness to top it off. Wash it down with plenty of water in between good craft beers and share the meal only with those deserving of your time and energy. Life’s too short to waste your senses on mediocrity. Eat and love well.

Danielle Robinson Yoga teacher/ Writer You, Me and Yoga Makes 3 on Facebook Follow: @mastic8onthis on Twitter

Don’t start your cleanse yet. First, go to Bakin and Eggs.

Everyone is detoxing right now. Cleansing. Resolving. Excreting. Probably evacuating a lot of bowels and tweaking from a caffeine and bacon deficiency. It’s no doubt a worth-while pursuit, the end of the year shenanigans provides such lethargy, abdominal discomfort and overall lumpiness that one must treat their body like the machine it is and get it back on track, flush it out and start anew, challenging it with rich, delicious, carby, fatty food once again. So, if you’re finishing a cleanse or about to begin one, send yourself into euphoria by experiencing the brunch greatness that is Bakin and Eggs. I am either lazy and boring with breakfast or so passionately craving it that nothing can stand in my way. More often, I am the latter. And more often, I want to explore the endless sustenance gift that is the city of Chicago and I want to try a new place, with new eggs, a new twist on french toast, new sausage and bacon. There’s only a handful of restaurants here in the city that I frequent regularly and that’s because they’re cheap, consistently delicious with great service and in close proximity to my Wrigleyville apartment. I’ve been to 10-15 brunch places, 3-4 consistently. I’ve been to Bakin and Eggs 4 times in 3 weeks. Considering the embarrassing amount of options, and good ones, the frequency of my visits says a lot. I know Chicago has a lot to offer, so to deliberately walk or drive over to Lincoln Avenue and Barry, over trying something new reflects just how great my experience has been, 4 times over. Can’t wait to go back.

I’ve noticed as I’ve shopped around restaurant hopping that you either get a good, greasy, traditional American breakfast with eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes, etc.; or, many restaurants in larger cities like to go real avant-garde and take your standard eggs benedict and put raspberry preserves and pork belly, or Gruyère cheese, truffle oil or any variety of somewhat luxury ingredients to make it special, aiming probably to make it a signature dish, to wow you. Often times those efforts fall flat. They’re either too rich, overpowered by their fancy ingredient(s), or the overall taste just comes across meh, not satisfying like you hoped their spin on a favorite would be. And then sometimes the care of the chefs, the quality of the ingredients and the mindfulness in creating and executing presents the most beautiful dish you’ve ever had the pleasure to chew. Something that makes your eyes roll back in your head, the guttural moans to emerge from your throat and the slow motion, bounce the food all over your tongue form of mastication. I find myself doing all three so often at Bakin and Eggs and that’s why in my humble opinion, through my vast experience in life and in this city, that I’d be willing to stick my neck (and tongue) out and call it the best brunch in Chicago. It’s that good. All around. Go!

Now, you’re probably thinking “words, words, words, blah, blah, yes, you like it, what about the actual food?!” I’ve opted for breakfast each time, so there will be no recounting lunch dishes here. I’ve been with small and large groups and we’re all game to order different items and share bites, which is the only way to go. Our first visit, my beau and I sat at the bar, as the restaurant is quite full on the weekends. We gazed at their great selection of homemade desserts, the shelves of perfectly placed mason jars resting against the brick wall, and eagerly perused the small menu as we drank great hot tea and coffee. On my first visit I ordered the Southern Comfort Bowl, a starchy, flavorful heap of yum, consisting of oven baked potatoes, two eggs made to order, pieces of broken up, hand-made biscuits, topped with cheddar cheese and of course their house sausage gravy.

It was a battle, meaning that deliciousness expanded in my fist sized stomach almost immediately so I took that and their incredible cheese grits (truly amazing to find excellent grits in the midwest, kudos B&E) home to revisit later. The hub got what could be the greatest breakfast item ever to be conceived, so simple yet so brilliant and a million ways to fuck it up. Naturally, it was executed with perfection and the taste sent us into oblivion. The Bacon Waffle.

It’s exactly what you think it is, except better. There’s chopped up bacon mixed with a rum waffle batter served as it should be with butter and maple syrup and a succulent strip of juicy bacon laid on top. Man, I can still taste it.

I immediately thought, somewhat selfishly, I should take more people here, so I can come back and spread the joy. And so I did. The next visit we went with our roommate, my brother, my food and humor soul mate, my bestie (isn’t that word nauseating? I’m sorry I even jokingly typed it. But I’m leaving it in.). He downed a Southern Comfort Bowl pretty easily while I decided to try something new. This time I chose the BLT, a simple favorite of mine, made a billion times better by it’s supporting cast, aged cheddar cheese, walnut and basil pesto mayo, and eggs your way. I personally love the stickiness and flavor of a runny, orange yolk bursting across the other ingredients as you take a bear sized bite. I’ve had this sandwich twice now, just as good the 2nd time. Derek chose the bacon waffle again, smart. I’ve gone back with more friends, enjoying their take on a breakfast burrito, their banana bread french toast, their cinnamon raisin sandwich with chicken apple sausage, eggs your way, cheddar and maple syrup. If you think any of these things sound bad or weird, just open your mouth for one bite, you will only want more! I’ve also tried the chilaquiles, their asparagus frittata, and their lovely french toast, all off other people’s plates. You love one, you love them all.

Let me digress for a moment and discuss the wonderful world of bacon. Apologies to my vegetarian and vegan friends. I can only hope you don’t harbor any self-righteousness toward omnivores regardless for your reason and just let people enjoy their lives. I respect and admire your choice. I’ve been a vegan and vegetarian during certain phases in my life and for a variety of reasons it does not serve my life. I do not recommend eating bacon, or even meat everyday, of course, but if you do enjoy the sometimes other white meat then I highly recommend you order the Bacon Flight from B&E. Wow. I’ve had some great bacon in my day, many of it here in Chicago, but their 5 flavor options will all tap into that hypothalamus pleasure center, immediately sending signals from tongue to brain that say yes, more, holy shit, amazing. I like maple pepper and honey roasted best but I’ll down the hell out of mesquite, cherry smoked and jalapeno too. If you’re going to eat meat, make conscious choices, and remember the awesome common sense tool and apply it to all aspects of your life, quality over quantity.

Whether you’re at the bar, an old wooden table or sitting comfortably in the old church pews they have as seats, you’ll enjoy yourself. The atmosphere is alive, happy, well lit, casual. The layout is simple and clean. Most importantly, 2nd only to their incredible fare, is their very hard-working, friendly staff. I’ve had such pleasant experiences and conversations with every server and barista there. Most don’t engage in too much role play, preferring my favorite method of being themselves, a human being engaging with another human being. They make great recommendations, rarely if ever mess up or forget an order and only seek to improve your experience as a diner, as a person enjoying food, simple as that. It’s that reason why I feel this is such a well-rounded restaurant, executing exactly what they set out to, consistently, efficient and effective, down to the detail, every single day from 8-3. They have a special brunch menu on the weekends and a stellar menu during the weekdays. And it's remarkably easy to split checks. You pay at a register with a friendly, helpful employee who doesn't make you feel like an asshole for not having cash, which is rare in Chicago. Doesn’t matter when, just go.

I’ve been contemplating whether or not I eat emotionally. I don’t think I do but you never know. I don’t eat from boredom or stress, but I sure as hell eat for happiness, any excuse will do. When I travel, the day is planned around meals, snacks, culinary delights, squeezing in a monument, museum, event or sight between one good meal after another. I love the visceral, primal experience eating provides and I love that humans have evolved to eat in the creative ways we do. I happen to love vegetables, fruit, grains, nuts, beans and the basic foods most doctors harp on about, and I make sure I eat them, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to spend the rest of my life avoiding butter, rich oils, savory cheeses, tender meats, chocolate or any other ecstasy inducing foods that cause guilt. They’re real, natural, from this planet we call Earth and if you focus on quality and moderation, life can be a fun, healthy and balanced ride. Stop worrying about calories or cleanses for a second and take a bite of a fluffy, savory sweet bacon waffle, or whatever excites you. Leave your cereal in the box and go eat some real food every now and again. Maybe at Bakin and Eggs. You won’t regret it.

Take a bite. Share a bite. Feed yourself well. Enjoy.

The other white meat brings some color into your life.

Until this point in time, I’ve yet to review any restaurants beyond casual dining. I’ve kept the dollar signs at one, or between one and two. Today is different. Today is special. This culinary eatery may bring you into the 3 dollar sign range, but truthfully you’ll most likely hover in $$-$$$. Don’t let that frighten you. You’re treating yourself. You deserve it. We all do. This place also brings collaboration and community into the mix. You’ll be sharing a plethora of flavorful dishes. Bite bite pass. Welcome to the world that is the Purple Pig. I’ll caution vegetarians now. This is a pork centered-place; hopefully the name tipped you off. Their focus is cheese, swine and wine; so feel free to join, drink, eat some cheese and veggie focused spreads, but if this disturbs or disgusts you in any way, don’t ruin your friends' trip, simply move on or stay home. See: Pick-Me-Up, Chicago Diner, Pequod’s, or Panes Bread Cafe. Plenty to choose from friends. :)

Back on message. I’ve had the sheer masticating pleasure of the Purple Pig 3 times now. Each visit was full of surprises and beyond spectacular food. If you’re visiting the Chicago area, TPP is a great option as it’s located right in the heart of the Loop on Michigan Avenue and East Illinois Street. Just past Michigan Ave’s breathtaking bridge across the Chicago river, after you’ve craned your neck to glance in awe at the Carbide and Carbon building, on to the historic Tribune and a quick look across to Wrigley’s dual structure facade, you’ll amble north and see the purple arch on the west side of the avenue. Early birds are probably the only chance of sitting immediately; if you’re willing to wait and enjoy the atmosphere at its most potent, then arrive around 730-8, squeeze past the tiny waiting area to the hostess, grab some wine and be patient. As always, it’s worth it.

The Purple Pig mostly consists of long, high, rectangular wood tables with fairly comfortable stools. You end up sitting right next to perfect strangers which is an excellent chance to look, hear and smell what they’re eating and emulate if you so choose. As with any restaurant experience, you’ll cut costs tremendously by not ordering alcohol, but that’s fun for no one. The high quality wine will make you less irritated by the noise and more appreciative of the flavors and scents wafting through the air. Plus it may make the company you keep seem more interesting. Just kidding of course, the company I choose to keep could not be more interesting. There’s something in sharing wine with the people you love; it imbues the occasion with even more magic and, in moderation, more memories.

Their menu is broken down into: Antipasti, Salad, Fried Items, Paninis, Cured Meats, Cheeses, Smears, A La Plancha and of course, Dulci. Being grade “A” fatties the salad portion was not even perused. Doesn’t mean it should’t be, just means I won’t be reviewing it. Let me just boldly recommend now that you go for weird. If you read it and it causes you to make a face, that means you need to face your judgments and fears and put that item in your mouth! My favorite items at the Purple Pig are the Roasted Bone Marrow with Herbs, Pigs Ear with Crispy Kale, Pickled Cherry Peppers and Fried Egg, and Pig Tails Braised in Balsamic. My argument to those thinking any of these items sound cruel is if you’re going to eat an animal, honor it, appreciate it, and don’t waste it. To those simply thinking they sound gross, give your palette a chance to mature, your tongue will not be disappointed.

To those with slightly closed minds and weak hearts, there are a slew of enticing dishes that will serve as food to your soul, comforting and satisfying. The cavalcade of choices from the Antipasti, Fried Foods and Cured Meat sections will stimulate any red-blooded American or International and leave you yearning for more. Whatever you choose, I can guarantee you won’t be disappointed. The tapas style portions are all well-balanced, savory, not too big, not too small. If I were to recommend just one dish, at this or any food merchant in Chicago, it’d have to be the Milk Braised Pork Shoulder with Mashed Potatoes. My mouth is salivating like Pavlov’s dog just at the thought, at the split-second memory of the vision, sizzle, aroma, and pure masticating nirvana this feature provides. My Mom makes a great roast, unbelievable mashed potatoes, and perfect complimentary sauces, rues, or gravies; and this conjures up sweet memories of childhood, of pork shank in an Italian restaurant, of family dinners, and settles in my heart that wholesome, safe, healthy feeling. I love it. Please try it.

Few things in life are more pleasurable than sharing a meal with people you enjoy. When I reflect on my life to this point, I don’t reminisce about cars I’ve had, homes I’ve lived in, clothes I’ve worn or overall consumer related items. Those are all transient and meaningless. Food is sustenance. It is necessary for survival and also pivotal in the enjoyment of the beauty this planet provides. I reflect fondly on laughs and meals I’ve shared. I’ll take that with me as I approach the end of my life.

Chew on this.

Eat consciously. Eat passionately. Laugh and chew. Drink a brew. Enjoy.

Flexitarianism

Chicago Diner Journeying to the tail-end of boys town (pun intended), at the corner of Roscoe and Halsted, you’ll find a charming building where the Chicago Diner resides. This being one of the few places I’d heard of before moving to the city, I was eager to try their veggie friendly fare. The Diner was recently listed as the #3 diner in the entire country, my parents enthusiastically passed that gem along while helping me pack some of my childhood boxes that were lingering behind. Not only is it situated in the neighborhood with which I inhabit, but I’m also a well-known flexitarian, always looking for delicious and creative vegetable based options.

This 1983 Lakeview establishment brings in customers of all ages and backgrounds, my last visit I watched a human new to this planet vigorously consuming milk from its mother’s breast. So there you go. Given the neighborhood, street, employees and fare, you can gather upon seconds of walking in that the key demographic is twenties hipsters. Boy if you don’t have visible tattoos or cut your own hair good luck trying to get a job there. I have visible tattoos and I still feel like an ordinary square in there. But it doesn’t take away, the scenester servers are very friendly, knowledgable and as it turns out quite skilled at cutting their own hair or piercing their own body parts.

It’s very simple inside but not without charm. It’s narrow and doesn’t seat many, like most city restaurants and bars, but has a few diner style tables, about 6 four-top booths, and a few backless barstools. The ceiling is tall and the booth side wall is brick, with windows so high you can’t see out of, each with beautiful painted glass window frames hanging over. There’s a large cooler with a variety of bottled beers, sodas and juices if you want to pass on Lake Michigan’s finest tap water.

At night this place is a mad house; you will wait, and if you don’t, it’s for one of two reasons. 1: You’re by yourself and can sit at one of the four barstools by the diner’s bar. or 2: Someone is waiting for you and already been blessed with a table. But at lunch it is only moderately packed and I’ve never waited for a table during the day. They do have an enclosed riff-raff waiting area with heaters and pitchers of water or tea. The hosts are apathetic and sarcastic and mostly fun to mess with, by all means test your boundaries. I have.

Down to the nitty, gritty. The grub. It’s pretty damn good. As previously mentioned, it’s a vegetarian/vegan diner. Meat free since 83 is their hippie slogan. What’s great about it is they’ve made a concerted effort to give you the flavors and comfort foods you like from all regions of the country without the animal or environmental sacrifice. They have a slew of sandwiches and “burgers” from “Steak and Cheese” to “Ruebens.” They have “country-fried steak,” “biscuits ‘n’ gravy,” and a “BBQ bacon burger.” These options are in quotations on the menu to give you the idea of flavor they’re going for, making you feel comfortable and familiar. You should know you have the option of vegan or dairy cheese, or none at all, for the real health nut.

They also have a plethora of creative, healthy vegetable options with no promise of meat flavor or substitute. I’ve had the avocado and black bean tostada, pot stickers, nachos and my personal favorite of everything I’ve tried is this “soul bowl.” This thing packs a health punch along with great flavor. It has red quinoa (pronounces KeenWah, not kwinOA), smashed sweet potato, avocado, flashed greens (kale and spinach sauteed in onions, garlic and ginger), black bean puree and walnuts. I went crazy and mixed it all together and really enjoyed the flavors bouncing around my taste buds, let alone how energized the nutrient rich food left me.

In true diner style they have shakes and other home-made desserts as well, made with non-dairy forms of milk. I loved the s’more shake and plain ole vanilla and chocolate do not disappoint either.

With the American waist band and cholesterol on the never-ending rise, it’s important we recognize how much our diet is the culprit, never mind the endless environmental implications factory farming has caused. As one who is very compassionate toward animals, even more so than humans at times, I’m the hypocrite who could never slaughter, shoot, or kill the animal myself. I’d be eating the poisonous berries and suffocating before I looked them in the eye, so I often unconsciously stuff my face without thinking what those poor creatures are suffering through so I can eat their hormone, antibiotic and no doubt fecal filled body parts. Cutting down our meat consumption would have many obvious benefits, to individuals and society as a whole, and to have healthy, tasty, awareness-driven eateries run by cool kids like the Chicago Diner is making our city, and world, a better place. And I thank them for it.

Check it out.

Eat. Drink. Open your eyes. And ears. Enjoy.