Get Above and Beyond at Uncommon Ground

Organic. Local. Natural. Sustainable. These are all widely used buzz words in marketing campaigns and grocery store chains. Somehow the 50 scientific ingredients utilized in the process of making what appears to be a cheese flavored cracker can also be organic. Who knew? I call bullshit. You’re not going to dupe me with your prototypical advertising rhetoric, not for food, not for clothing, not for yoga, not for anything. I can definitely admit when a product or store backs up their sales tactics by walking the walk, I’m just not so easily bought, and you shouldn’t be either. What a big city does well, at least what Chicago and the others I’ve experienced lives well, is making genuinely healthy, delicious food grown, bought and then made right in your environment. I do not concern myself with where exactly this farm or garden is located (this isn’t an episode of Portlandia, man they nailed that demographic perfectly), precisely how large the area is the animals can roam, how old it was when it died and how long it’s been dead before entering my very live body. It may sound cold. It’s not. I love animals, have tremendous amount of compassion for them, and am a long-time flexitarian. I cry at those ridiculous Sarah McLachlan commercials, I’m not dead inside! I just don’t delude myself into thinking those facts matter or that they’re accurate. If you are, you can receive that information while you enjoy a seasonal dish at Uncommon Ground. It’s been 19 months and nearly 7 full seasons and somehow I’ve neglected to write about UG. I’ve been there nearly 10 times now, had a great experience and even better meal every single time. It’s right near my apartment, which is fortunate and also dangerous, as realistically I should spend less money eating out and choose instead to eat in. But who fucking wants to do that? Not me. This is my work. Food is my muse and someday, someone will put a dollar amount on these words and I will turn in my receipts to the IRS for a full refund. Until then, I will continue to eat most meals at home, some at my favorite cheap spots, and some at the cool kid restaurants, where people with money and people who somehow manage without it go, where a beer is $6 and it’s organic, and I’ve never heard of it, and I’m sitting near a crackling fire, and there’s some genuinely cool looking light fixtures, and they actually make gnocchi (enyokee white people, not noki, just a lesson in pronunciation for your infotainment), and other special treats not carried by most restaurants. It’s gooooood, you should go.

Uncommon Ground’s friendly green sign lies humbly at the corner of Clark and Grace just north of Drunkville, USA, technically in Lakeview. It’s a little big for Wicker Park, little small for downtown, expensive enough for Lincoln Park moms to make the trek and inexpensive enough for other north-sider folk to ride the redline down. Despite my light-heartedness here, I genuinely can’t recommend it enough. The exposed brick, wood floors and various odd shaped rooms gift U.G. the charm of an old house, with modern spins on comfort food sealing the deal. They eat/feed as if they live in Europe, or that crazy country California, seasonally. What a notion, eating food that’s currently growing prosperously, during this particular time of year, in this climate. Forcing myself to eat numerous fruits and vegetables that taste like mealy, textured water does not equate to eating a balanced, healthy diet. It’s a lot of effort to figure out what’s in season where you are at this time but I’d be willing to bet there’s a handy chart out there, or a million books with words about nutrition. Or you can do what I do. Every season, make it a point to eat one breakfast, one lunch and one dinner meal at Uncommon Ground. Study the menu, notice how savory and succulent everything tastes, take actual notes or mental notes and then stock your fridge with similar ingredients. The rest is up to you. I’m not Sandra Lee.

Back to the intention of this article, yes there is one, no it’s not obvious, sometimes you have to work for what you get. And this shit is free. You get what you pay for. The best things in life are free. Wait...yeah, that’s right. Anyway, geez, Uncommon Ground has friendly, knowledgable staff, with senses of humor and personalities and everything. Their mixed drinks are awesome. I’m not much of a drinker, especially liquor drinks, but their Basilica Limon is so refreshing and their bloody mary is lick the inside of the glass worthy. They’re currently combining forces with a Chicago initiative, for every Agripolitan (a new eco drink) they sell, 50 cents goes toward the Chicago Rarities Orchard Project. They have great beer and wine as well, and unlimited glasses of Lake Michigan’s finest. The more you drink, the better the cause. Bottoms up.

important than the atmosphere, cocktails, projects or even staff, is the extraordinary taste and execution of every single appetizer, soup, salad, side, entree and dessert. Regardless if something is your taste or not, you can rest assured the item is fresh, high quality, cared for and then made to taste as fantastic as possible, blending unusual ingredients in the most creative and inspiring ways, leaving you pleased and also perplexed, what the hell is this and why is this the first time I’ve ever had it?! I’ve had meat dishes, vegetarian entrees, cheese dips, sweet treats and savory delights. I wish I could recall and somehow share in every meal I’ve had, through any season, but you’ll just have to experience it for yourself. Last week, after a sweaty yoga class, we all went comfortably dressed and stinky to a well lit corner in one of Uncommon Ground’s many cozy four tops. It was brunch, which comes with it’s very own menu and very own demographic, a diverse one at that. I ordered their take of biscuits n gravy, two eggs over easy laying so beautifully over said B&G, dusted with crumbled bacon and scallions, served with breakfast potatoes. My partner in sharing was one of my favorite fellow travelers and foodies, always willing to grab something sweet so we can share each other’s and have a balanced experience. She got the pomegranate and mascarpone french toast. I can still feel those tangy seeds bursting in my mouth. Wash it down with a PB&J latte. Oh yes, that’s a thing. And it is damn good, like everything else.

As if all this wasn’t enough, Uncommon has become somewhat of a home and platform for bourgeoning artists. They hang pieces of art made by local artists. They don’t stay long because U.G. has an eye for genuine talent. I’ve been fortunate to experience a few of their open mic nights, showcasing some of the most beautiful voices, instrumentals and all around truth I’ve ever seen. To watch these human beings be so vulnerable and honest, and feel so at home on the very modest stage with a supportive crowd is uplifting and encouraging. They have open mics nearly every night of the week, no obligation to eat or even spend a lot, just be a warm member in the environment. These artists are all worthy of your attention, including those working hard in Uncommon Ground’s bustling kitchen.

I believe deep within my gut that real food, that was once alive, from the ground and trees, is the greatest form of medicine, equipping us to not only live a fun, balanced life, but a healthy one as well; where we feel energetic everyday and sleep well at night, armed to deflect any negativity that comes our mind, body, and heart’s way. Take the energy you use in opening a can, jar, box or container and wash some produce. Your digestive system, and much more, will thank you.

Uncommon Ground is a place to absorb nutrition through every sense. Open up.

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For the Plain and the Strange: Ian's Pizza

Mac n Cheese, Philly Cheesesteak, Tomato Pesto, Steak Nacho, Guacamole Burrito, Spicy Chicken Burrito, BBQ Chicken Cheddar Bacon Ranch, Tortellini Pesto, BBQ steak and French Fry, Bacon Cheeseburger, Sausage Penne Alfredo, Chicken Parmesan, Tomato Avocado Asiago, Spinach Feta Mushroom. These are just a few examples of the spectrum of flavors and choices you’ll have upon walking in the door of Ian’s Pizza. Whether you’re craving a simple but delicious New York style cheese pizza or some interesting conglomeration of flavors and textures, this place can deliver, literally and figuratively. Do you ever get the munchies? I’m not just making a stoner reference here, I’m talking about those days, or hours where you have a hankering for something that will not only comfort you, but also inspire you to eat rapidly, shoveling gigantic bites into your ever-widening mouth so you could chew laboriously, closing your eyes and mumbling what sounds like “so good” through food speckled teeth. Whether you’re elevated by a substance, person, life or living clean, stone cold sober, you’ll love Ian’s and crave it once you've had it. It’ll call to you. It calls to me. In particular when I’ve had a weird week, when chaos churns in my gut and a whirlwind of snow barrels into my face, when I can’t get enough good people and my bullshit threshold for the other is in danger; that’s when I want pizza, and Ian’s satisfies no matter the need, no matter the reason, through seasons hot and cold, when life is hectic or mild, Ian’s brings me right back to square one.

Here’s the only issue you may face making it to Ian’s. It’s located just south of Wrigley Field on Clark Street, smack dab in the middle of a long line of bars, clubs, restaurants and shops. It’s easy to find, whether it be on the CTA, on foot, or by cab, but if you’re looking to satiate a late night weekend craving, get ready to make a mindful, alert walk passed some rowdy ass people, some of whom may be parked in one of the coveted Ian’s bench seats or taking up a spot in their sometimes long line. During Cubs season, it’s an experience, just as riding the EL or bus is at any given moment, the combination and diverse sampling of people, sober and otherwise, provide the entertainment while you try to decipher what each pizza flavor is. It’s worth any hassle you may perceive or experience, and is some of the best, most unique pizza even the great city of Chicago has to offer.

Ian’s staff is young and friendly, laid back but efficient pizza slingers, with permanent burnt callouses on their hands and bags under their eyes from many early morning closes. Their knowledge of the pizza is on point, many having their own input and hand in making the special of the week. Their selections vary based on the season, so the Guacamole Burrito, which is a must try if you’re here, is mainly a summer option. They provide interesting concoctions during the holiday months and have a spectrum of choices to appease any desire. Each speciality slice costs $3.75, and they’re good sized slices. I usually get two or more, but that’s me, never not hungry. Their basic thin crust cheese pizza is great if that’s what you need or want, and the large is just $16. Given the number of ingredients, some of them fall into the gourmet variety, your pie’s cost will go up from there. They deliver, even if you just order slices. Alone with a movie or a packed apartment full of weirdos, Ian’s is always an accessory to a good experience, at home or in their house.

Some of you may be reticent to try the more unusual slices. To that I just breathe a long, slightly judgmental sigh.................Try the Mac ’n’ Cheese. It has a creme fraiche base, girthier macaroni noodles and a perfect blend of cheeses for a truly unbelievable slice. That’s usually your first go round, the easiest way in, and then you start getting into the freaky stuff. It’s similar to exploring sushi for the first time, everyone goes for the California roll, simple, a little boring in my opinion but a good start. I just had the mac slice last week and I loved it as much or more than my first time. They cleverly pull from favorites all around the world, experimenting on a weekly basis with great pies like Apple Pie, Chicken & Dumpling, Pad Thai, Mediterranean (which has a hummus base and a slew of med veggies), Shepard’s Pie, Green Curry, Gyro, and a long list of other ethnically inspired creations. Whether it’s one of their signature, everyday slices, or a seasonal special of the week, the quality of the ingredients and the execution of the idea is shockingly impeccable. I’m always so pleasantly surprised at the texture and flavor of the crust, regardless of what the talented and creative staff challenge it with, it remains crispy and delicious. I love collecting uneaten crusts and gorging on bread. A real beatnik. Don’t judge me.

I’ve been eating Ian’s on a weekly basis for a year and a half and finally decided to share in their goodness. They began out of Wisconsin, branched into three locations there and we’re fortunate in having their presence here in Chicago. It’s a great way to trick your kids, or your friends or yourself, into trying something you’ve never tried before because remember, it’s on top of bread and covered in cheese. And just the right amount. Their menu includes slices and flavors to satiate even the pickiest eater (shout out to my vegan friends, if there are any of you left). They’ve got great baked goods from Bleeding Heart if you want to seal the munchie deal, and a cooler full of great beverages if you choose to pass up their free water. Ian’s is a comforting experience, in house or to go, 365 days a year. Hope you can taste the magic.

Live in Chicago. Visit Chicago. Forget corporate chains. Eat Ian’s. Enjoy.

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.

Savory Sweet Pockets of Heaven: La Creperie

I enjoy food that comes hidden behind some gluten filled pleasure pocket. Man that sounds strange. Oh well, I’m leaving it in. Calzones, Stromboli, tacos, burritos, enchiladas, and any other Spanish word with delicious Mexican ingredients are a staple in my weekly diet. Beyond the above, along with various derivations of pizza, pasta and sandwiches, my ultimate ingredient stuffed pouch of carbohydrates lies with the French, in a crepe. Adding to the list of influences in my upbringing is my honorary father’s (I love that word over step-father, clearly it’s his honor to step in and be my father when I’m with my Mom. Being a step parent sounds fun for no one, but he did it well, and that’s why he’s my honorary father, my Daddy Don, Dad) French blood. At various times during my childhood, our Dad would spend hours in the kitchen preparing a very French, gourmet meal. Being a big breakfast person, he soon channeled his culinary discipline into making crepes, and boy were we happy for it. Our quarterly treat sparked a passion in me, and at times, I get tunnel vision and must have crepes.

When living overseas I’d grab a crepe, mostly sweet, wherever I could, and upon traveling to France and at another time to Greece, my love affair grew as I discovered crepes of the savory variety, and branched out on the sweet as well. Why am I rambling incessantly about one specific genre of food? Because when done well, there’s almost nothing better. Since returning home to the States, I’ve had excellent crepes in NYC, Florida and now Chicago, but none thus far have amounted to the greatness available at La Creperie.

I’d ridden and walked by La Creperie hundreds of times since our move to Lakeview. Each time I’d pass, I’d think, damn, I need that in my life. For whatever reason, through exploration of several other restaurants in every neighborhood in Chicago, I’d continually overlooked and bypassed what was sure to be a favorite. Last week, while contemplating and commemorating freedom, I thought of freedom fries, and how stupid that expression is, and so I set my sights on La Creperie, finally.

Two bikes and a skateboard road a little over a mile on a cool summer day. We walked into the very Parisian looking cafe, walked down the narrow hallway lit only by the sun, out to a beautiful patio to sit under an umbrella. I was immediately overwhelmed by the incredible descriptions and ingredients composing each crepe. The three of us were hungry so we each opted for our own savory crepe, leaving the potential to share a sweet one open. I ordered chicken with a creamy herb sauce and mushrooms. The men folk ordered ratatouille, and a tomato with onion and garlic, each also wrapped in the thin, buttery, salty envelope.

All I can say is you should see the faces we were making and the sounds emitting from our throats. I love how, similar to a piece of music, a flavor, an herb, a bite, can fill you with nostalgia, bring you back to a memory, a place, an emotion. Those crepes were unique, made with love, prepared with quality ingredients and expertise, and even though I hadn’t tasted the likes of them before, they felt familiar, they filled me up, in belly and heart. We were full, satisfied, high off of taste, ready for a nap. I wasn’t quite finished yet. It’s a sacrilege to eat crepes and deliberately ignore the dessert options. This isn’t about need or not being full, it’s about giving your taste buds a well-rounded meal, a rainbow of flavors, and making room in that second stomach to squeeze in just a little bit more.

And so we did, of course. We opted for the creme caramel, a crepe topped with flan (a dessert my grandmother makes expertly), home-made whipped cream, a clear, vanilla drizzle, and some fresh blueberries. Each component, individually, was top-notch and a satisfying treat in and of themselves. But like most successful entrees, the whole is better than the sum of their parts. Crepe, blueberries, flan and the corresponding sweet condiments was something resembling a religious experience. I cannot wait to go back.

For a slew of complicated and simple reasons, many Americans have misconceived notions about the French, France and probably French food, claiming they only eat frog legs and other bizarre ingredients. Let me say now that frog legs are delicious and so is almost every bite of food I was lucky enough to eat in that beautiful country. The people were friendly, sarcastic, artistic and interesting, nothing like the stereotypes perpetuated in the last 10 years. And before you über patriots get up in arms over this being a two-way street, I recognize the judgements and stereotypes involving Americans are not always right either. I respect their history, people, food and way of life, and I’m proud to have French influences adding to the fabric of who I am.

Explore your ancestry, and others. Food is love, knowledge, and community. Enjoy.