Oh My Crust!

Oh my Crust! Pequod's! Three words: Chicago. Style. Pizza. This evokes a variety of reactions from people who, for whatever reason, claim some sort of expertise on the consumption and critiquing of pizza. There’s the classic debate, NYC v. Chicago, for many things other than pizza, but food seems to be on top of that list. I’ll come right out and say right now that I typically prefer New York style pizza, but as a foodie I find myself loving pizza in all forms, and I crave Chicago pizza strongly. It’s a very specific desire that only this style pizza can fulfill, and in my humble opinion only one establishment can truly satisfy. Pequod’s.

Yep, Pequod’s pizza. Strange name, even stranger meaning. Something to do with Moby Dick, the logo is a whale with a thong over it’s face? Try finding the metaphor or symbolism in that. Regarding pizza. No clue. As I’ve so eloquently stated before, I don’t care. And neither do you. I’m sure there’s some literature out there with the story, but I was too concerned smelling and tasting delicious pizza to care. The pizza is beyond excellent, and that’s all any of us really care to know.

Winning the genetic lottery as I did, I was born with Italian blood coursing through my otherwise American veins. I also lived in the blessed country for three years. This gave me the built in right to judge food on such a ridiculously high standard and therefore have pure disdain for anything mediocre and everything cliche. Sure, I’m cliche in many ways, but not with food. You’ll never hear me enthusiastically revisiting a delicious Pizza Hut pie I consumed, or McDonald’s hamburger, or Subway sandwich. Mom n Pop, individually run establishments are always %100 better than any chain. Of course this is a matter of “taste”, but I’ll just say I’m confident you as the reader can trust my taste because of the standards my family so lovingly instilled. I know pizza, trust me. And thanks to a local friend, we were lead in the right direction, straight to Pequod’s. Ask a local, always.

So I’ve had Uno’s, Lou Malnati’s, Gino’s and Giordano’s. All are well known pizza places here in Chicago with multiple locations and an underlying rivalry. Similar to Pat’s and Gino’s cheesesteak in Philly, all claim to have the #1 best pan pizza here in Chicago. To all I call bullshit. You’ll enjoy yourself, don’t get me wrong. I’m not a snob. In a real fatty moment I can slather garlic butter all over Papa John’s and force it down my gullet, but this is about quality, an experience, something you won’t forget. Having family in Philly, speaking for them I know there are better cheesesteaks than the famous Pat’s or Gino’s. And the same can be said for Chicago.

Pequod’s has two locations, on N Clybourn Ave, between Webster and Greenview, in the neighborhood DePaul, western Lincoln Park, so college kids are abound and certainly a large part of the clientele in this place. The other is in a suburb called Morton Grove, won’t be trekking out there any time soon. It’s essentially a sports bar. Plenty of flat screens to watch any Chicago team currently playing, a decent sized bar and surrounding booths on two levels. It’s always busy, but you won’t ever have to wait too long. Pan (deep dish) pizzas take a good 45 minutes to cook, so you have the option of placing your order while still waiting for a table and I highly recommend you do that. As soon as you smell the cheese and sauce combination and catch a glimpse of the beautiful masterpiece you will be ruthless in your pursuit. Grab one of Chicago’s many delicious local brews, something of a Goose Island variety perhaps.

I’m choosing to discuss the pan pizza, because I’ve visited Pequod’s 3-4 times now and I’ve never wanted anything else. It should be said; however, that they do offer thin crust. So order that if you must. I’ll be reviewing thin crust eateries soon. After 45 minutes of painful anticipation, a deep dish consiglieri will bring your pizza, place the pan on a thick, wooden cutting board, and cut through that crunchy thick crust himself and place it on your plate. I most often opt for mushrooms and fresh tomato on top of the cheese, but you can add any combination of fresh toppings, meat, veggie, or cheese. Dust the top with a little parmesan and you’re good to go.

What makes this pizza such a stand-out is the crust, as is often the case with any type of pizza. With deep dish it's essential. Pequod’s crust is buttery and carmelized and thick, but never soggy, never succumbing to the tall layers of cheese, sauce and whatever else you’ve chosen to challenge it with. You fork and knife this pizza, which may throw you off, but it’s worth it. It’s more than a pizza. It’s a visceral experience. The cheese is gooey and smooth, the sauce savory and not too sweet or overwhelming, and the extras are top quality, but they all pale in comparison to the crust. It’s so crunchy that it has syllables when you bite. C-c-c-crunch! Not simply, crunch! Like any impeccable pie, the crust is almost crumbly when you bite, but hugs and supports it’s ingredients valiantly.

When we have visitors here in Chicago, everyone wants a Chicago style dog and Chicago style pizza. And while most are ignorant enough to want Uno’s, my judgmental ass won’t let that happen. They’ll be visiting Pequod’s if I can help it, and they’ll slap me they’re so satisfied. I’m still a lover of all pizzas, thin crust usually winning out, and it should be stated here that this pizza is not the best left over. But stuffing yourself with a fresh, just out of the oven deep dish Pequod’s pizza will be nothing less than memorable. I hope you get the chance to eat here.

Pequod's

Bite. Chew. Crunch. Mmmm. Enjoy.

How You Like Me Now?!

How You Like Me Now? No, I’m not being arrogant, save that for another time. That is my song suggestion to you, dear reader. A truly badass anthem you may, or may not, have heard while watching the David O’Russell film The Fighter (like the director name drop?). The perfect open and close for a really great movie (no this isn’t movie of the week, but you should see it if you haven’t). Mark Wahlberg walking down the streets, throwing right and left hooks into the air, looking like a grade A mothafucka to this wickedly riffed, written and performed song by a purely unique, inter-racial band called the Heavy.

The first time I heard this song I loved it, not just liked it, LOVED IT! I try not to overuse exclamations and capitalized letters but this is serious. I immediately moved, spoke, evoked swagger, which I’m already known for, but this was different. I had a soundtrack to my swagger! Nothing will pull you out of Chicago’s winter, fatty, dessert obsessed, cloud covered funk than a funky song you can stroll to the El with. It’s nearly impossible to place this song and/or band in a specific genre. It single-handedly with this song sounds like so many things you’ve loved and yet something entirely new and fresh in 2 bars. Rock/funk/swag/? I think they’ve created a new genre and I hope others follow suit, because it’s certainly worth emulation and is a catalyst for inspiration.

Upon listening, I immediately began implementing this tune into my class playlists (I also teach a little yoga, for the readers other than my Mom) which always garner questions, as I try to steal music taste from others and market it as my own to whoever will humor me. Like the Black Keys, I can’t push this song enough on other people. No one likes a pushy salesman, and I get that, but I’m merely spreading joy, championing a cause. And that cause is get out of your rut and find the How You Like Me Now attitude. I quite literally put this song on repeat when I’m walking to work. It gives me a false sense of confidence that, I hope, will turn into actual confidence. Whether real or simulated, the song simply makes you feel good, feel strong, feel ALIVE. This is also a well-timed song that can be an added F You to Al Quada. How you like us now? We're back! For independent and collective badasses to enjoy and feel pumped up.

I believe this song is on a commercial or two now, and to that I say, well done, advertisers, well done. It draws you in with horns, horns! Then adds a distinctive guitar riff, which I’m always a sucker for, and then some equally brilliant drum licks. Pile on the psychotically exquisite lyrics sung with vigor by the band’s lead singer, the purveyor of swag himself, Swaby. Swaggy name right there.

I’ve provided the video below. It’s a fun, humorous, half animated, half live-action, Little Red Riding Hoodesque short story with the perfect musical accompaniment. Three and half minutes of heaven. Get your swag on!

Listen. Listen again. Dance. Don’t be uptight. Let the song bring the fun out of you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sVzvRsl4rEM

How you like me now?! You’re welcome.

O.M.G.-D.M.K.

DMK I’m observing many acronyms in my restaurant choices, not sure why. It’s purely a coincidence and this particular establishment has no full name. I’m guessing DMK is the owner’s initials or the initials of each owner, I don’t know. I also don’t care, and neither do you. DMK specializes in burgers, so vegetarians and meat-phobics beware. Nestled in between Lakeview and Lincoln Park on the 3000 block of north Sheffield, near the Wellington Brown Line stop, DMK is the perfect combination of each neighborhood, both swanky and casual, vintage and modern, lively and understated. It’s situated in a brick and mortar building with large red letters out front donning its name, boldly drawing in customers with a craving. As with many of my favorite restaurants, the brick is also exposed on the interior, the layout is narrow with tall ceilings, a mixture of four and two-top black tables, dim lit modern light fixtures and loud music. Not so loud you have to shout, but let’s just say those who refuse to wear hearing aids won’t have issues enjoying the music. Not that they’re dining in, they’re most likely asleep by the time we’re eating.

We were having one of those Tuesday night cravings for unhealthy food. The kind that would soak up remaining alcohol from the previous night, if you had any. In our case, it was soaking up alcohol and whatever else from Saturday night, so this food had some serious work to do. We braved wicked wind and rain to walk about .7 miles in order to reach our chosen burger joint. Upon entering, I was impressed and horrified by the decor and clientele, mainly because I was grossly underdressed, just gross. I had a burger joint in mind and what I found was a more of a combination of bistro and bar. I love this, I just wasn’t expecting it. We arrived around 8 and the place was hoppin, but luckily we were seated in a cozy two-top right away. It’s very Chicago or New York, where you either have to squeeze in between two tables to sit, as the seats against the wall are boothed, or you physically pull out the table to ensure there’s no drink spillage or coats dipped in food situations. I chose the squeeze option, as I like a challenge.

Great beer selection, we each had a Fat Tire for $3! That’s damn good, especially here. You can’t just have water with a burger, especially not at posh place like this. The wait staff we’re all above average adorable (I also enjoy alliteration), ours resembling Michael Cera’s ex-girlfriend from Nick and Nora’s infinite playlist. Another walked like she was auditioning for America’s Next Top Model. I’m nothing if not referencey.

Let me just relieve the beef haters and strict vegetarians right now...there’s a veggie burger, turkey burger, and salmon burger options, all very popular and highly rated. We did not opt for these options for the aforementioned reasons. And because we’re occasionally meat-eating, selfish assholes. I ordered the patty melt. It was like a heavenly version of Steak ‘n’ Shake’s frisco melt. Grass fed beef, smoked bacon (not sure what that was fed), burnt onions (holy hell in a hand basket, those were SO good!), Leroy’s Remoulade (I’m not sure I want to venture a guess there, but it was good, thousandislandy.), smoked swiss (duh!), on griddled rye bread (yowzah). So if you got through all that and still understood then well done to you. Fancy words and ingredients mean nothing. Did it taste good? Hell yes it did! Could I have eaten another one as I hoovered it in about 90 seconds? Yes, shamefully, I could have.

My partner in tasty murder that evening was Derek, the husband to my wife, and he had the #4, a burger also accompanied by bacon and cheese, but also including a fried farm egg and green chile sauce giving it a really fun kick. His was good too. Now, you can’t have burgers without fries, unless you’re some freedom hating nazi, and we’re freedom lovers proudly wearing our patriotism on our sleeves. DMK has a great selection of fries, including a basic fry, sweet potato and then some fun options you’d expect from a place of this calibre. We opted for the parmesan fries with truffle cream. They were better than they read, crunchy enough, fresh, dusted in actual parmesan shavings and the truffle cream we slathered over them like sloths was the perfect compliment. It should be mentioned here that they have home-made mac ‘n’ cheese that I had trouble resisting and I plan to order it next time. Like their burgers, it’s also highly rated and recommended.

Besides the varied selection of beers to wash down your burger, if you want to be a real American, you also order a shake. As we did. One for each of us. It was one of those nights for sure. And it was 38 degrees outside, we could not be deterred. Like everything else, it was very satisfying.

Each burger is $8, unless otherwise specified and a small order of fries, enough to feed two, is $4. With a big appetite, you’ll make it out of there spending about $25-30, not bad for a burger with a side of swank. I’ll give DMK the highest compliment I can and say, I’ll definitely be back.

D.M.K.

Eat. Drink. Eat. Eat. Gulp. Enjoy.

Not afraid to admit it...

7 Reasons you should be watching the Ellen show, as in Ellen Degeneres’s talk show. 1: It’s funny. Yeah, I said it. Groundbreaking information, I know! The decades long comedian is, in fact, funny. Like with most funny people and talk-show hosts, Ellen is at her best off the cuff, conversing with audience members or guests. She lets others shine, show-cases her funny staff, applauds her talented guests, and gives many members of the audience her spot-light on a daily basis.

2: It’s good for humanity. Without ever pushing an agenda down your throat, Ellen and her staff give thousands consistently to charity, promote good-will and kindness, and provide valuable information on how we can make a difference, with or without our wallets. She creates games, events, laughs and entertainment as an avenue for change. You can dunk Eva Longoria in filthy water and with one pitch (or ten depending on your skill level, I was an all-star as a child, so, yeah.) you’ve given $10,000 to Breast Cancer Research. She created her own healthy, natural pet-food company called Halo, gives her time, money and energy to causes like the Gentle Barn, campaigns peacefully for legislation like Prop 2 (providing factory farm animals with larger pens, cleaner, kinder conditions), and has gradually become a vegan and lightly given the world tips on approaching a kinder diet ourselves. She shares with humor her personal changes on acquiring an eco-friendly home and lifestyle, gives down on their luck, solid people new cars, money toward their needed repairs, medical bills or school loans, sends someone who needs a boost on a vacation, and provides us all with the greatest medicine and antidote to the state of the world right now, laughter.

3: Talent. Talent. Talent. There’s something for everyone here. I hate country music, loathe it, I’d rather hear babies crying to the sounds of kittens screaming while scratching their nails down sand-paper as the parents scrape sharpened forks on dinner plates. So it’s clear I do not enjoy country music? Ok, good. But, she has country favorites like Rascal Flats and Taylor Swift (those are the only 2 I know, otherwise I simply fast-forward, but there’s more), rappers like Lil Wayne, R&B stars like Bruno Mars, balladeers like Adele, rockers like Kings of Leon and so on. She has musical, theatrical, comedic, dance, culinary, and inventive artists of all ages, sizes, colors and backgrounds on her show and truly shares in the enthusiasm of their gifts and wants to share those gifts. Even better is Ellen and her staff scour the internet and other sources I’m sure to find undiscovered talent, in various genres, and give them a once in a lifetime chance to showcase their tightly honed skills in front of millions. So she’s generous in many ways and the ultimate supporter of the arts. She recognizes our greatest artists cannot be defined and probably haven’t been discovered yet. So regardless if you’re not into a particular artist or genre (like my allergy to honky tonk), you will no doubt be in the next segment or next episode. Just keep watching. And swimming.

4: Tolerance. She, just by being herself, is raising awareness and acceptance amongst many generations in America. She’s affecting generations, in particular the future of our country, and world, our youth. Children love her, they don’t care that she’s gay, that she’s not on camera with long hair, dresses, heels, and overall stereotypical girly behavior. They like her for who she is, because she is a beautiful person, inside and out. She promotes not only self-acceptance, but non-judgment and tolerance of others as well. Not since the most powerful woman in the world (and probably God if God exists) was an African-American woman by the name of Oprah did someone revolutionize television in such a remarkable way. She leads by example and is the greatest advocate for progress and love simply because she exudes that truth.

5: Dance, dance til you’re dead! I’m a huge fan, lover, admirer, enthusiast of dance, in all forms, modern, classic, ordinary and strange. I just fricken love it! And not club dancing either, I’ll dance with my girlfriends but paying money to go into a large warehouse-like building, with seizure inducing strobe lights, awful house music and the throngs of males thinking they can match their crotches with my precious back-end, simply because we’re both in the same place at the same time just puts me off. But dancing to a classic song like Boogy Shoes with Ellen and the audience brings a smile to my face I don’t even think my husband’s seen. Whether you’re “good” or “bad” is irrelevant, the message is to stop taking yourself so seriously, move your big beautiful butt and enjoy the ride. It simultaneously promotes health and bliss because dancing increases your heart rate and burns calories while also bringing you into the ever joyful present moment. She of course has dancers from various stages, young and old, famous or not, and let’s them perform and extract the enthusiasm right out of you.

6: The antithesis of gossip. Ellen, as previously mentioned, is a comedian. She’s observational and will make jokes and commentary on the current state of the world; however, this never includes gossip or rumors, beating up on someone who’s down, or giving anyone who doesn’t deserve it (ie: Charlie Sheen, Lindsay Lohan) a platform or attention. She’s able to be funny and topical without needlessly stooping to the TMZ and entertainment show levels. So you can see and hear about your favorite artists, get updates on the state of the world and Hollywood, but never engage in negative high school-like rhetoric. I’m an admittedly somewhat cynical person at times, and I enjoy really crass and harsh comedians (Ricky Gervais, Daniel Tosh, Natasha Leggero), but they’re mostly ironic and cleverly pointing out atrocities and train wrecks we’re all talking about with our friends. That has it’s place. Entertainment news and tabloids are largely pointless, spreading lies and deliberately being negative without even a whiff of actual humor. With Ellen, it’s purely up-lifting and kind. She walks the walk.

7: It’s collaborative. The new documentary I Am, a fascinating exploration by Director Tom Shadyac of Ace Ventura and Bruce Almight fame, dares to claim humans are, in fact, naturally collaborative and not competitive, as we more often embody. He also shows how human beings, scientifically, biologically, emotionally, what have you, are all connected. These facts are somewhat contradictory to how we think, feel and behave in this technologically advanced, competition based society. Ellen, in my opinion, not only embodies these claims but provides evidence of this truth. Her show’s success and effect on the world shows what human beings collaborating for a common purpose can achieve. Watching the audience dance and laugh with joy, and observing their connection with complete strangers, makes those of us at home on our couches feel that same connection and bliss. By giving the audience information and inspiration on how to get more out of their own lives and how to make someone else’s life a little better, she’s gently promoting both collaboration and connection. Ultimately the show makes me forget about the humans who irritate and frustrate me, and leaves me thinking of those in my life who make me laugh, smile, and feel encouraged, feel connected.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6GCOKA7PvCM

As she says, Laugh. Dance. Ellen. Enjoy.

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.

Look and listen, but mostly listen...

I love food, very much, bona-fide living to eat kind of person and not the other way around. But in order not to turn into a person that needs a crane to be exported out of their house I find ways to balance my life between mastication. Some of these things involve being sedentary but not most. Hear me out. Actually, listen. Below are 3 semi-rant suggestions on various forms of entertainment. I enjoy movies, TV, music and comedy immensely. As described below I often do not seek such things out as they somehow find me, perfect for a lazy masticator. I only plan to blog 2-3 times a week so I've included these "entertainment of the week" segments in one long blog. You can enjoy said things while walking, biking, training, busing, driving, as I often do. Except the film, give yourself a lazy Sunday and focus yourself for 90 minutes damn it! Read this at your leisure. Thanks, masticate, enjoy. Song of the week:

This is something I’m choosing to write about because I get into moods, or obsessions, I don’t know really but I’ll be into one particular song for years, more like days or weeks, but I’ll just listen and listen and dissect and analyze. I love music, but I don’t pursue it. My brother pursues it, finds it, good music lurking in the undergrowth. It just happens to me, someone wonderful will bring something by me and I’ll go, hey! I like that, that’s now mine and was my idea, you screw off, thanks for nothing.

Years ago, my man child lover friend also known as my husband (such a boring, antiquated word), Derek, puts on this song by a band that will soon become MY favorite band, the band I’VE been listening to for years before anyone else and before the radio stations and MTV finally got wind of it. It was a song called The Lengths, by the incredible two-man band, The Black Keys. Feels good to just say that, ahhh, or write it, type it. Shut up. I’ve since fallen in love with every single one of their records, every single song on every single album, no exaggeration. I push them onto my loved ones like I have some secret, juicy gossip they’ve just got to hear and I’ve just got to tell before anyone divulges it before me.

This particular song I have been obsessed with for years, not just days or weeks like the others. It’s a departure for them, a rare slow, somber, heart-wrenching semi-ballad sandwiched between the wicked riffs and drums and 3 minute wonders some of you may be familiar with. The song wreaks of longing, of resentment, torture, emotional demise, a light-hearted vengeance, or more likely, heavy-hearted revenge filled hatred disguised in this incredible melody and soul-crushing lyrics. Here’s just a few from the beginning:

'Tell me where you’re goin What is going wrong Felt you leavin Before you’d even gone

Hold me now, or never, ever, hold me again No more talk, can take me from this pain I’m in'

I’m chill-ridden and emoting just from typing that. Top it with the unbelievably beautiful music and you’ll never be the same.

So, as my first song of the week entry into this blog, I choose this. This, because I quite literally put my iPod on repeat and listened to it no less than 100 times on an international flight back to the states. This, because it makes me both love and hate my husband at the same time and I don’t know why! But I love it. Just listening to the first few seconds of the mind-bending guitar riff will send anyone with a soul into a meltdown. It crushes you, renders you completely shattered, broken and then renewed. I love these guys for many reasons and am very grateful and proud for their recent success. I will stand by them when people ultimately get sick of them because radio stations overplay their awesomeness. You’ll never hear this song overplayed, because it’s too obscure, before their break into the mainstream scene. And for that, you’ll never get sick of it or forget it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8tBPidveM4

Listen. Learn. Transform. You’re welcome.

Podcast of the week:

Like everything else except meetings and parties, I’m late to the trend. My Mom tried to convince me for a good two years to wear wedges. I refused, not sure why, just wasn’t into it. Then one day, out of nowhere, I wore a pair, most likely belonging to my mother, and I was hooked. My Mom just looked at me in disbelief like “really?seriously?” That clearly has nothing to do with this, it merely serves as an example that I’m late to things most people already are enjoying and pursuing, like podcasts. I am now quite obsessed with podcasts. It all started about 18 months ago when I got wind of the Ricky Gervais podcast. Ricky and his awesome co-writer, co-comic genius Stephen Merchant, pioneered the podcasting movement and have a record-breaking 300 million downloads as of late. I plan to delve into particular episodes, conversations or simply the mind of Karl Pilkington in general at some point, but for today I’m just going to pay them their respect with an honorable mention and then move on to the chosen podcast of the week. Drum roll please..... oh, no one’s reading this? Except my mom? Right.

Doug Loves Movies. DLM is hosted by none other than funny man Doug Benson. He calls himself the professional humoredian, which I quite like because I love wordplay! Almost as much as cadbury mini-eggs. I munch on them now as I explore my lexicon and cleverly devise some diction for your entertainment. DLM came across my lap like almost everything worth experiencing does, through someone else telling me about it. Again I don’t pursue things, like music, it just happens upon me and I soak it up and invariably pretend it was my own idea. So, MY favorite podcast as of recent stars the lovable Doug Benson, best known to me while watching VH1’s Best Week Ever, and always mistaken for I Love the 80’s, 70’s, 90’s, and all the sequels I followed incessantly during my college years. I’m still desperately waiting for those to release on DVD. My god that’d be a dream come true. But I digress.

Doug brings on a few guests, usually comedian friends of his, often who’ve worked together on some recent project, most likely another podcast as it’s an incestuous trend there in Hollywood. He’s had such guests as the cast of NBC’s Parks and Recreation, podcast favorites like Jimmy Pardo, Scott Aukerman, and Chris Hardwick. He’s even landed big names like Kevin Smith, Sarah Silverman, and John Lithgow. Needless to say they’re all entertaining, laughter is abound in this 60 minutes of amusement.

He spends the first half discussing movies he’s seen recently with his guests, often leading to non-related tangents, which induce the most laughs, and then always bringing it back on message to play the AhMazing Leonard Maltin game. Doug created this fun and easy game with the helpful tool of the Mr. Leonard Maltin (famed film critic and regular on Reelz Channel, see if you can find it) App. I won’t go into detail on how the game is played because that would be tedious and time-consuming; all I’ll say is it’s hilarious to listen to and ultimately informative at the end. It may be useless knowledge but it’s knowledge nonetheless. And that is knowledge I’m ripe with, serves me so well in this cruel world. Each guest plays for an audience member, most of which are fans and bring in creative (or not) name tags that each celebrity can choose from, and the winner then hoists a cavalcade of peculiar prizes at said audience member. Doug rounds out the 60 minutes in heaven by calling someone a shit head. The names being chosen by the audience member whose representative did not win the Leonard Maltin game. It’s random, but funny, really seals everything together.

Mainly I enjoy the podcast for very simple reasons. I love to laugh, first and foremost, and this hour is filled with it. I also love movies, so when they do occasionally talk about movies I can pretend I’m part of the discussion and 90% of the time I agree with Doug, except on Inception, that movie blew my mind! And most importantly, Doug genuinely seems like a nice guy. That might sound lame, but there are so many douchey, asshole, semi-funny people out there that are making boat loads of money and being rewarded for their assholiness. I’m fairly selective on who I invest time and energy in, and especially money, and although the podcast is free, DLM is well worth it. You can also buy DLM comedy albums on iTunes for 2 bucks or purchase other podcasts and albums with which Doug is a participant. This was about podcasts, and like a DLM episode, about half of this was relevant material.

I hope you came away with some useless knowledge.

www.douglovesmovies.com

Laugh. Eat. Laugh and eat. Enjoy.

Movie of the week:

Seems like Old Times

What? Is that a real film? Is it one of those on-demand, straight to DVD movies with Val Kilmer and 50 cent? No, it’s not, but more on that later, as I love Val Kilmer and do not relish being made fun of for still loving him despite his Chaz Bono like appearance these days and multiple straight to DVD films with the aforementioned rapper/actor. Already digressing, apologies.

Seems like Old Times is a smile inducing, 1978 comedy starring Chevy Chase, Goldie Hawn, and Charles Grodin, written by the incomparable Neil Simon. Hot off his year-long stint on the freshman season of Saturday Night Live, Chevy was cute as ever with that cavernous chin dimple and impeccable delivery. He plays Goldie Hawn’s ex-husband, Nick, a journalist living in a deserted area in the mountains of California. Goldie’s character, Glenda, is a defense attorney now married to Charles Grodin’s character, Ira, Assistant District Attorney, soon to be named District Attorney if all goes to plan.

Glenda is famous for defending the defenseless, then employing the unemployable herself in order to keep her clients in check. Her soft spot lead to her employing a driver, caterers and maids despite not necessarily affording it. She also has 6 dogs, 2 cats, and 5 goldfish, a fact charmingly thrown in her face by Aurora, her sassy hispanic house-keeper, burdened with the task of caring for all species of the house.

The fun really starts to happen when Nick is abducted, forced to rob a bank, then thrown out of a car for dead in Glenda and Ira’s very district. The chemistry between Chevy and Goldie is palpable, and the orchestra of lies floating between the three main characters as Chevy’s character Nick becomes a fugitive in need of defense would entertain the animals taking up their house, let alone the humans fortunate enough to watch this by choice. Charles and Goldie’s characters are at odds because while attempting to keep work and home separate, they’re consistently reminded they are on opposite sides of the courtroom as a defender and prosecutor, and then the added stress of an ex-husband making his way back into their lives and the potential ramifications, both to Ira’s career and to their relationship in general.

Not to be forgotten or discounted are the infectious performances by the supporting cast, including the previously mentioned Aurora, the driver and at times butler/servant Chester, the Native American brothers Glenda defends, the judge, the governor of California and Ira’s co-worker, the two idiots who devised the plan to abduct Nick and start this whole charade, and of course the animals. The sarcasm and banter within the cast makes this movie beyond watchable, the end bringing them all together in a very satisfying way.

I have my mom to thank for introducing this film to me at a young age, along with other classics from that era like Caddyshack, Arthur, The Goodbye Girl and Fletch. Seems like old Times, in particular, is so gentle and sweet. There is no filth or vulgarity, and that’s not something that bothers me, but this allows for enjoyment from all ages and let’s it rely on the clever writing and genius delivery by the very talented cast. I highly recommend cozying up with the family, or even by yourself, one lazy Sunday afternoon and spending 90 minutes you won’t regret watching Seems like old Times.

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0081480/

Watch. Eat popcorn. And bunch-a-crunch. Cherry Coke. 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.

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