Yusho

Mrs. Hackknife and I found ourselves with a plethora of work and family-related events this past Saturday. One party (a first Communion/birthday combo) had to be passed on, while another (3-year old birthday party) was skipped due to Hackknifette's late-hour cold, leaving us with an early afternoon bowling retirement party downtown and a work karaoke gala far out in the suburbs later that evening (rest assured that there was no singing on my part). In between, however, was something rarely occurring these days: a few hours alone in the city to dine sans progeny at the location of our choosing (within reason, of course - Alinea probably wouldn't have been able to host us, for example). Mrs. Hackknife has been jonesing lately for yakitori (a type of Japanese bar food whose exact nature is debatable, as we'll see in a minute) and, as it turns out, Chicago now happens to offer a handful of these places (it's something of a trend at the moment). I'd been reading a bunch of positive buzz about Yusho (2853 N. Kedzie) lately, a newer restaurant in Avondale by head chef Matthias Merges (Charlie Trotter's right-hand man for many years finally making a go of it on his own) claiming to serve yakitori-inspired dishes and was excited to find out that they could seat us at 5pm, giving us enough time to still make it to our evening event relatively early. So, after (badly) bowling a few frames and throwing back a couple of cold ones at the retirement bash, we detoured off the Kennedy on our way to the 'burbs to get us some Yusho.

When we arrived, the missus and I were in fact the very first table to be seated, watching an army of casually-dressed staff (which we appreciated, given that we were both in jeans) prepare for the dinner service. The overall vibe was more saloon than club, with upbeat Japanese pop/punk songs on the sound system and lots of brown wood in lieu of black lacquer in the decor. When our waitress came by to get drink orders, we opted to go non-alcoholic by trying a couple of the house's recommended dry drinks - I quite enjoyed my homemade pineapple soda and Mrs. Hackknife sipped on a more-complex-than-you-could-imagine artisanal tonic (subtly infused with ginger and mystery botanicals) before eventually also yielding to the pineapple soda's allure. As can happen when one visits a small plates eatery these days (see Vera), everything on the menu looks worth exploring (damn you, one-chambered stomach), but sanity forced us to narrow our selections down to a brief 6 or 7 of the most heralded offerings that I'd gathered from various press sources.

We started with crunchy sheets of chicken skin (see photo above), coated with whole grain mustard, garlic, and togarashi (a Japanese blend of hot pepper spices), which were delicious, if not quite as mind-blowing as I first envisioned. Thoughts ran wild in my head about how this dish might have been prepared - I'm guessing that the skins had to be pressed flat for some period of time and heated (fried? dehydrated?) to get the crispy, yet not greasy, texture. In any case, for obvious health reasons, I'm sure it won't be making a regular appearance in the Commissary anytime soon. Next up was one of the evening's off-menu specials, a giant Hama Hama oyster (fished out of Hood Canal near Puget Sound in Washington State and known for its large size/cucumber flavor) topped with shallots, ginger, and lardo that Mrs. Hackknife and I fought over for the last bits.

The oyster was followed up with another special, the kimchi-topped pork belly seen above. This was in my opinion the best dish of the night and I found myself uttering an unprintable expletive upon consumption, with the sweet kimchi serving as the perfect foil to the rich pork, which had an amazing crispy exterior, yet soft and creamy interior. Slightly less-expletive worthy, but a still tasty plate of takoyaki (a Japanese dumpling popular in and around Osaka) luxuriously stuffed with salmon roe and topped with bonito flakes, scallions, and chiles arrived next. There were no leftovers.

The steamed short rib buns (see above) we received after the takoyaki were the source of some controversy. Topped with peanuts, pickles, jalapenos, and cilantro, I thought they were delicious, while Mrs. Hackknife wasn't quite as enthralled, both for the bun texture (chewier than she'd like) and the fact that this was technically a Korean dish (to say nothing of the kimchi we had earlier). In fact, she argued that several of the dishes we ate didn't conform to the definition of "yakitori" as she interprets it (based on her 3-month residency in Tokyo), which is strictly limited to meat, fish, or vegetables grilled and served on a skewer. I have a feeling that this debate will probably continue back at the Commissary until such time as I can identify a place in town that prepares their yakitori in such a manner (if you know of one, please feel free to share).

Our final savory course was the twice-fried chicken pieces shown above, glazed with kanzuri (a yuzu-based chile paste) and lime, and finished with some matcha (green tea powder), served with spicy dipping mayo. Although the plate looked good, it actually fell pretty flat, the evening's biggest disappointment. I found the chicken to be somewhat dry/chewy and we probably could have done with only 2 pieces instead of 4. This was clearly an unfortunate misstep.

Of course, we were able to rally to consider some interesting dessert options. My bowl of kalamansi (a very tart Japanese citrus fruit) custard with peanut cake and peanut brittle (see photo above) was off-the-charts fantastic, one of my favorite desserts this year (pretty high praise considered it contained no chocolate). Mrs. Hackknife ordered the homemade mochi, perfectly chewy and slightly blackened (think campfire marshmallow, but more toothsome), served with a couple of dark chocolate smears, also very good (although I still liked mine better).

By all accounts, we had a very good (at times outstanding) meal at Yusho with some very unique dishes that we're not likely to find elsewhere around here. Yet why did we leave feeling a little disappointed? Clearly, Mrs. Hackknife (although she enjoyed most of the food) was bummed about not getting the yakitori that she craved (and continues to crave). Speaking for myself, I think that the hype was just too great and I (maybe unfairly) was expecting a little more, especially given the unimpressive fried chicken, which was supposed to be a standout. Regardless, I'd be happy to return for the pork belly, peanut cake dessert, and any number of other plates that we didn't get to try the first time around...

Thanks Jordan Raw Vegan Cafe

As much as I hate to admit it (and I'm going to likely incur the wrath of my wife's family and fellow residents if they read this), the south suburbs of Chicago are a....well,how can I put this delicately?....cultural wasteland of sorts. Although one can probably argue that suburbs by definition pale in comparison to the lifestyle offerings of the city to which they're attached, my 6+ years of living on this side of town have largely convinced me that the deficiency is a bit more pronounced here. This is not necessarily an indictment, mind you (of course, there are plenty of practical reasons why this is the best place to be in the metro area), just me trying to convey the sense of how vanilla our immediate surroundings can seem at times. It is with this tableau in mind that made my recent discovery of a VEGAN (not just that, but all raw food, no less) restaurant only a 20 minute drive from the Commissary all the more shocking (to the best of my knowledge, vegetarians and health food nuts are a rare breed in these parts). Apparently, someone at the Tribune also found this surprising enough to write a detailed article on April 22 about the place, known as Thanks Jordan Raw Vegan Cafe in downtown Lockport (you can link to the article here if you're interested). I can only recall ever eating at a health food restaurant once before (in Dallas, at the behest of a vegetarian co-worker futilely attempting to persuade his 20-something colleagues to abandon those poison Doritos) and I don't normally seek out this type of cuisine, but since I am here to benefit you, dear reader, I made it my business to go check it out and return with a full report.

The cafe itself is situated smack in the middle of Lockport's old business district, only a short distance away from Tallgrass (an excellent fine dining establishment) and the old Illinois & Michigan Canal that is the backbone of the town's history (ironically, it's also next door to a pizza and barbecue take-out joint). Inside, as you might expect, the decor is very calming and bohemian, with a few tables, a small bar with some seating, a tiny open kitchen, and artwork from local artisans lining the walls. When I arrived, one of the owners graciously came over to greet me, going so far as to sit down at my table and explain both the cafe's mission (it's a non-profit raising money to support local animal shelters and orphans with HIV) and food philosophy (raw/uncooked fruits and vegetables, grains, nuts, and beans, no meat, no dairy, only natural sweeteners). Almost if by cue, the restaurant's best customer, 87-year old Bob (a U.S. Navy veteran) sauntered in, showing up for his nightly meal (Bob is held up on the cafe's website as living proof of a vegetarian diet's benefits). Although I can't say for sure that all veggies all the time is the sole reason for his apparent longevity, I have to say that he did look pretty darn good for 87.

Anyway, after browsing the menu, I selected a Strawberry Bomb smoothie to start (almond milk, strawberries, banana, and agave), followed by the house special "lasagna" for my entree. If you're afraid that eating vegan means small portions, fear no more - my plate of lasagna was pretty substantial (see photo above), served with both a garden salad and a fruit salad. In place of the usual pasta sheets, the lasagna contained strips of zucchini, in between which were layers of Italian cashew cheese, pesto cheese, and basil ribbons, all topped with a fresh tomato marinara sauce. While my smoothie was nothing special, the lasagna plate and the salads were quite tasty (in fact, had I not known that I was eating all raw ingredients, I probably wouldn't have figured it out) and very filling. I didn't need to get dessert, but I did anyway, not being able to resist the house brownie, made with pecans, cacao, dates, and agave sweetener. Again, the portion size was large and I was only able to finish half the brownie (the other half came home in a doggy bag for the progeny - Hackknifette nibbled a bit, spitting it out and Hackknife Jr. declined completely to participate). I have to say that I wasn't enthralled with the brownie, which was a little leaden and a bit heavy on the date flavor (sort of a chocolate fig newton, without the cookie part). All told, though, I mostly liked what I ate (no small feat considering my omnivore, industrial food-tainted palate) and am eager for my return visit. Now if we could only get one of those Senegalese-Peruvian fusion joints to open up in Mokena....

Beef & Blue Cheese Pie

Back in October of last year, Saveur published an article featuring traditional British roast dinners, in which a recipe for steak and Stilton pies caught my attention. Both Mrs. Hackknife and I are fans of beef and blue cheese (she perhaps more so than I), so the thought of having those items together inside of a pie crust had a lot of appeal. The recipe, however, calls for dividing the filling into individual 6" pies and you'd be surprised how difficult it is to find small pie tins out there (even the vaunted Williams & Sonoma came up empty). Due to the lack of proper equipment, I shelved the recipe until such time as I could develop a work-around procedure. Then three months later in Grand Cayman, we watched English chef April Bloomfield make her own version of steak and Stilton pie in a single, large oval dish (you may recall I was suffering some overindulgence problems at the time, but the one bite I was able to swallow down was delicious), spurring me to revisit the dish back at the Commissary.

With a $10 2-quart oval dish procured from Target, I thus bravely forged ahead into the gorse and heather. As always, I made a few modifications from the listed recipe. As you might suspect, mushrooms were out (I'm the creator of this pie, so I get to decide. Sue me.), plus the 1 Tbsp. of butter that would have been needed to brown them in a skillet. Since no fromagerie exists within a 20-mile radius (and I couldn't summon the energy to drive up to Trader Joe's in Orland Park), I settled for the basic crumbled blue cheese found at my local ethnic grocery in lieu of Stilton. Digging through the garage refrigerator, I was able to find a large-format bottle of Zywiec Porter (a somewhat-skunky Polish brew that had been aging in there for a while) to stand in for stout. Lastly, in what may be a first, I actually went above and beyond the instructions to make homemade crust (using Crisco, not suet like Mme. Bloomfield) instead of using packaged puff pastry. All told, the dish takes a little while to prepare (about 2.5 hr), but isn't particularly hard, even if you make the crust (there were a few instances where I came up short on dough coverage in the baking dish; however, I managed to patch it up in the places needed without incident).

You can see the finished product in the photo above. Flavorwise, the missus and I both agreed that it was a touch on the bland side (probably the fault of the cheap blue cheese), but nothing that a little salt couldn't spruce up. The crust turned out wonderfully, browned and crispy and rich, clearly the best part of the melange. The leftovers kept great and improved after a couple of days aging. Maybe next time, I'll try using more of Chef Bloomfield's recipe (which includes beef short rib meat instead of chuck, garlic, red wine, and, of course, the suet in the dough) and possibly go to greater pains to get real Stilton, even if it requires a trip to England for the real thing....

Baconfest 2012

The time has arrived for my writeup on everyone's favorite local food gathering devoted to a single, glorious ingredient - yes, Baconfest has again swept through Chicago like a pork-scented squall line raining smoky, fatty goodness all over its life-shortened (yet exuberant) enthusiasts. I was privileged to be attending my second Baconfest (not a foregone conclusion, by the way, as tickets sold out in a mere 15 minutes upon release) and was accompanied this year by Mrs. Hackknife's cousin Bob, who was more than happy to take her place while she enjoyed a Wisconsin spa weekend with the girls. Just like last time, the UIC Forum played host to the event; however, unlike before, the fest was expanded into two separate 3-hour sessions so as to maximize ticket sales without letting too many attendees spoil the vibe. Unfortunately, two sessions meant two sets of exhibitors, so I had to choose in advance which session I felt had the best bacon goodies to offer (of course, there was nothing preventing us from going to BOTH, other than an additional $75 ticket and the potential of a long-term hospital stay). After much deliberation and analysis, I decided that while the evening session had greater star power (Top Chef alumnae such as Stephanie Izard, Sarah Grueneberg, and Heather Terhune), the restaurants featured in the afternoon were a bit better. The table was set: we would be engorging ourselves on pork products and beer from 12:30 to 3:30 (and as I told Bob, it lasts 3 hours, but it doesn't need to).

The big day arrived gray and drizzly as we stood in line outside the forum with about 500 of our closest bacon-loving friends, many of whom sported clever t-shirts much like last year. When the doors opened, Bob and I headed to the first table on my list, Lillie's Q (a fine barbecue joint on North Avenue in Bucktown), featuring what they dubbed "Bacon on Bourbon Street" - a bacon custard-filled bacon beignet with a Cafe du Monde coffee and chicory bacon syrup (sort of like a crazed, feverish New Orleans food dream). Although it was a bit small, this was my idea of a fine breakfast and a great way to start the proceedings. Next to Lillie's was Pleasant House Bakery, Chicago's answer to a British pie shop, whose lads were serving decent-sized portions of a bacon and pork pie with a bacon fat crust - delicious, if not a bit heavy.

I should mention at this point my strategy to help avoid the overindulgence I suffered at last year's fest. Instead of getting samples of everything in sight (certain suicide, although I suppose one could argue that just being here was already that), I advised Bob to skip any table offering burger sliders or pizza, not because they wouldn't be good, but to cut down on the overall consumption mass, freeing up valuable digestive tract space to focus on the best of the best. This, in conjunction with drinking lots of water, is what I believe allowed me to actually feel halfway normal later that evening instead of assuming the fetal position in an Atkins-induced haze. Anyway, the strategy served us well when taking on such unholy creations as the bacon grenades (sausage wrapped in bacon and deep-fried, a Simpsons episode come to life) offered by Paddy Long's and the amazing bacon fat biscuit with crispy bacon, pea gravy, and piccalilli prepared by Southern cuisine wizard Paul Fehribach at Big Jones (a place I absolutely cannot wait to visit). Some creations were a bit out there, such as the bacon rice crispies from Hearty (the addition of peanut butter Captain Crunch-infused milk did little to improve the dish) or the pork belly taco on a chocolate tortilla from Mexique (not one of my favorites). Some of the plates were upscale, such as the Signature Room's bacon-wrapped rabbit loin with asparagus/morel ragu (very good), Pure Kitchen's Arabica coffee-cured bacon with black olive puree, scotch/coffee crunch, and peppermint (not so much), and Inovasi's quick-cured pork belly with Anson Mills farro verde, Argyle St. spice, peanuts, and wild ramp salsa (delicious). And some, such as the thick-cut bacon coated with brown sugar and honey from Uncle Bub's BBQ, were just classic and let the ingredient of honor stand out without gimmick.

My favorite bites of the day both had a Japanese flair to them. The top dish IMHO belonged to Chizakaya, a Japanese bar food joint in Lincoln Park, whose chef (Harold Jurado) was passing out what he called "baconmiyaki". This was described as a Japanese-style stuffed pizza (more like a little pancake) with Nueske's bacon, Napa cabbage, pickled ginger, scallion, shrimp, nori (seaweed), and bonito flakes (which make everything better), a combination of several tastes and textures that combined into an incredible, cross-cultural whole (I pray this is on the menu when we visit his restaurant). Second best was the panko-coated bacon with baby arugula salad served with a bacon reduction and house tonkatsu sauce prepared by Union Sushi and BBQ. Special mention goes out to highly-anticipated restaurant Moderno, whose doors won't even open until April 30 (indeed, the head chef told me that this was their first official event), yet here they were passing out homemade bacon cannoli with shaved Reggiano and crushed pea powder (delicious, but far too large) to the masses.

Other than the aforementioned water, we were pleased to be able to wash down all this bacon with great beer, specifically newcomer Greenbush Brewing Co. from nearby Sawyer, Michigan (beer-connoisseur Bob had been talking up their beers while we had been waiting in line outside). They came to Chicago with 4 beers on tap, 3 of which I was able to try: the Divine Rabbits (a Berlinerweis served with a shot of Jo Snow woodruff syrup), a Doomslayer (maple brown), and a Rage (Imperial Black IPA), all of which were hearty and terrific (I suspect we may have a new brewery to add to our list of upcoming tours). Artisanal rye whiskey maker Templeton Rye from Iowa was also passing out its wares, but sadly, I had to pass since I was the driver (another day, my friends). Regardless, both Bob and I were greatly impressed with all aspects of the event, from the food to the service (all of the volunteers did a great job). I'm already looking ahead to Baconfest 2013, chewing on celery in anticipation....

Noodles by Takashi/Ramova Grill

I'm in the process of training to become a volunteer Chicago greeter. I won't bore everyone right now with the comprehensive details of what this means exactly, but suffice it to say that in addition to giving me the opportunity to preach the gospel of how great a city Chicago is to out-of-town visitors, I will also hopefully be able to expand my foodie scouting reach into neighborhoods that I might not have otherwise explored. As part of my greeter training, I've been shadowing seasoned volunteers as they wander through the Loop sharing their knowledge of the local landmarks to small groups of tourists. Often, these tours are occurring around the noontime hour, leaving me with a rumbly stomach and wild thoughts of places to scamper to for lunch when my session has ended. It just so happens that the Chicago Cultural Center (where the tours originate) is only a block or so away from Macy's State Street location, which has a not-your-run-of-the-mill food court on the 7th floor featuring (among more standard offerings) Frontera Fresco (Rick Bayless), M Burger (Marcus Samuelsson), and Noodles by Takashi.

This past Friday, I decided to made my way up to the Macy's food court hungry for lunch following one of my training trips. But which stand to choose? Frontera resembled all of Chef Bayless's other properties in town; that is, a long line of diners waiting to indulge. M Burger (the only one of the three biggies that I'd previously tried) was also crowded and I wasn't really in a burger mood. This left Noodles by Takashi, a ramen noodle stand operated by local chef Takashi Yagihasi, whose other two restaurants in Chicago (Takashi in Wicker Park and Slurping Turtle in River North) are well-regarded. At this point, a bowl of sloppy noodles sounded pretty good to me, so I sauntered over to check it out. There weren't a lot of ramen options (about 4); however, I liked what I saw in the description of the miso ramen and decided to order one up. Miso ramen is more of a northern Japanese dish, invented in Sapporo in the 1950s when a customer at a famous noodle house (Aji no Sanpei) asked for noodles to be added to his miso/pork soup (all of this information is provided courtesy of Lucky Peach's inaugural issue last fall, which had about 60 pages of ramen coverage). Takashi's bowl of miso ramen contained the traditional ingredients of roast pork, slices of pink/white fish cake, scallions, bamboo shoots, bean sprouts, ginger, garlic, butter, and corn (an ingredient closely associated with Hokkaido, the northernmost of the Japanese islands, since that's the only place in the country that has enough farmland to grow it), along with an ample fistful of thin, wavy noodles. All of this arrived on my tray in a gigantic bowl and was only about $10. Using a soup spoon for the tasty broth and chopsticks for everything else, I managed to polish off most of the contents and was really delighted with the way the various flavors mingled. My only regret is that they didn't include more pork pieces or fish cake (there were two of each - that's all), both of which were very tasty.

Obviously, a large bowl of ramen would suffice for a proper meal most of the time, but (as sometimes happens) I had other ideas on this day. Trying to make the most of my waning freedom before returning home to the progeny, I made a slight detour southwest of the downtown area towards Bridgeport to visit Ramova Grill (3510 S. Halsted, just down the street from its namesake historic theater, now shuttered). For those of you out-of-towners, Bridgeport is a working-class, traditionally Irish neighborhood that became the city's political stronghold in the early 20th Century with the election of Mayor Edward Kelly in 1933 and continuing for 78 years through 2011 when Richard M. Daley stepped down. Ramova Grill opened just before this period (in 1929), making it one of the oldest diners in the city, gaining a reputation over the years for serving Chicago's best chili (granted, this is a dish that we're not particularly well-known for). Just a few weeks ago, word got out that the owners were planning to permanently close shop and, given that I happened to be passing by on the day before the purported demise, I opted to stop in to grab me one of the last bowls of this famous chili.

I tried to time my arrival so that I showed up after the first pitch of the White Sox's home opener, taking place a mere 8 blocks away at U.S. Cellular Field. Unlike Wrigleyville, Bridgeport is a lot more, well, subdued, even on the first gameday of the new season - the tiny diner was only about half full and there wasn't a Sox fan in sight. What I did see conjured images of the 1930s, from the 11th Ward calendar on the wall to the old-school iceboxes in the back to the ancient, chipped slate boards listing daily specials. The sole cooking surface in the place appeared to be a small metal griddle up at the front of the restaurant right next to the picture windows, which probably explained the relatively-short list of food offerings (breakfast, burgers, chili, and liver/onions) that I'm guessing hasn't changed much over the years. As far as charm, I would have expected that a diner with such a storied history would have framed pictures, etc. showing the good old days, but there was no such nostalgia on display, only a business-like vibe and a dull grime much in keeping with the character of the neighborhood. And the chili? I ordered a small bowl, topped with a pack of oyster crackers (held the cheese and noodles - $3.25). I'd say it was good, equal parts ground beef, onions, beans, tomatoes, and grease (perhaps the Chicago Irish version of ramen), but probably not life-changing enough to warrant special attention. Still, as I took in the whole tableau before departing for the last time, I felt a twinge of sadness for a time and a culture retreating away, knowing that diners like this are becoming increasingly scarce. It's too late for Ramova Grill, but if you've got a favorite greasy spoon in your town, make sure you stop in as often as you can...

Xni-Pec de Yucatan

Both Hackknife Jr. and Hackknifette are on Spring Break from their respective educational institutions this week, so with Mrs. Hackknife also taking some time off to enjoy the kids, we loaded up the family truckster and headed to Brookfield Zoo yesterday. The zoo itself wasn't very crowded and the weather was really pleasant - as a result, we managed to fit in a full day of activities before they closed up shop at 5. Rather than immediately head home for dinner, I suggested we visit a local restaurant in downtown Brookfield that has gotten a reputation for good regional Mexican cuisine (something we don't see a lot of around here outside of the Rick Bayless empire) called Xni-Pec de Yucatan, which bills itself as the only Yucatecan (or Mayan) restaurant in the Midwest. Much like the zoo, we pretty much had the place to ourselves and settled in at a 4-top with some excellent chips and salsa to start (one salsa was mild and featured chopped tomatoes, with the second coming in a tiny bowl and described by our server as "very, very hot" - I tried a little of it and I can tell you that he wasn't just whistling Dixie). After much crunching and drinking of water, a complementary appetizer of two sopecitas (small round tortillas topped with beans, lettuce, and queso) arrived at the table courtesy of an online check-in (thanks, Yelp). The missus and I washed these down with some house margaritas served in tin mugs, potent concoctions flavored with blood orange, giving them a little bit of a bitter overtone (or I suppose it could have just been the tequila).

Simmering happily with tin cup in hand and trying to ignore the progeny agitating in their chairs, our server spent a minute explaining the differences between Mayan cuisine and the catch-all "Mexican" food that's ubiquitous in these parts. In Yucatan, the food is not spiced with hot chile peppers; rather, something called achiote paste or "recado rojo" is the staple used for flavoring most dishes; this paste contains ground achiote seeds (also referred to as annatto), cumin, cloves, Mexican oregano, salt, pepper, garlic, cinnamon, and allspice. This paste featured prominently in Mrs. Hackknife's entree, shredded pork marinated in achiote, topped with pickled Yucatan red onions (the very same kind that I made in the Commissary a few months back) and served with rice/black beans. I opted for the roast chicken smothered in mole rojo sauce (listed on the menu as containing 4 chiles, sesame seeds, almonds, cocoa, and herbs), also served with rice and a slice of grilled plantain (see photo above - after mulling over for a while if the picture was too unappetizing to include, I decided to show it anyway).

Both entrees were delicious and very filling, although not so much so that we could skip dessert (plus, the progeny felt they were due some recognition for the probable-house record 5 visits to the restroom while we were there). Mom and I enjoyed a bowl of rice pudding with pineapple, coconut, and rompope (a sort of Mexican eggnog) while the kids mostly turned noses up at a tasty bunuelo (a fried tortilla soaked in golden piloncillo molasses), which we then helped them eat. All told, we (at least the parents, that is) liked the food at Xni-Pec enough that we're already looking forward to stopping by again after our next zoo visit...

IKEA Meatballs

I have a confession to make - I've always wondered if those ballyhooed meatballs in the restaurant at the behemoth IKEA furniture stores around here are any good. I know my in-laws have sampled them and enjoyed them, but they remained a fixture on my foodie to-do list for quite some time (even though IKEA has been in Chicagoland for more than 10 years, I can count the number of times I've been there on the fingers of one hand - I'm not much of a shopper, and frankly, all those goofy Swedish names they use for the merchandise frighten me). Anyway, with Mrs. Hackknife and the progeny away on a daylong outlet mall excursion not so long ago, I decided to satisfy my meatball curiosity and drove up to the nearest IKEA (in Romeoville, about 30 minutes away) for lunch. The restaurant is a fairly nice and tranquil place (at least it is at 12:30 on a Monday afternoon) on the second level with large windows overlooking the parking lot. Everything is served cafeteria-style; that is, you walk along the food line with your tray and grab items (or order entrees with a cook) at each station. I was expecting menu offerings that slanted more towards Swedish cuisine; sadly, most everything was standard American fare (chicken wrap, anyone?) except for the meatballs, which were served 15 to a plate with gravy, mashed potatoes, and a dollop of lingonberry sauce on the side (see photo above).

Once I sat down to nosh, my initial impressions were that the meatballs and gravy were not all that different from the Lean Cuisine frozen meatball and egg noodle dinners I used to occasionally nuke for lunch at the office (in other words, not as tasty as I'd hoped). As I got further into the plate, I discovered that mixing the meatballs/gravy with the potatoes and the lingonberries improved the experience somewhat. Still, unless I had future plans to buy an Emmie Parla (cushion cover) or a Mammut (children's dresser), I wouldn't be making any more half-hour trips to IKEA just for the meatballs. There is a small market on the way out of the building selling imported Scandinavian food products, some of which got my attention (for example, jars of herring in sour cream and tubes of fish roe paste); alas, I had no way to keep such delicacies refrigerated while I was out running errands, so I had to pass until next time...