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| - My memories of Chicago are probably like everyone else's...mooning an umpire at a White Sox game. Like most people I have interfered with a potential playoff home run baseball, rode the back of Bill Cartwright, never ate at anything Michael Jordan owned, threw up deep dish pizza in a drunken haze, and snagging some cheap chick from Tinley Park in the bathroom of Exedus II. (We all know they are the easiest chicks in the Metro area...gotta love the naïve suburbs.) You know, the usual things any one does in Chicago.
All of those good memories came flooding back to me when I passed the Chicago Brewing Company. A wave of emotions hit me...I almost hit my hearse into a bus full of nuns...almost reliving another Chicago memory I have tried to hard to forget. The smell of burning Habit is really oft putting and not one you forget easily...but I digress...
I sauntered into the bar a few months ago ready to smash any of those Chicago loving goons for just looking at me wrong, and what I found was a really nice place to eat, a great bar and some good food.
First, the downstairs dining room. Sometimes your old pal Rex has a hard time getting up and down stairs. That damn keyboard cleaner really throws off your balance when you huff two cans. So, I decided to eat where it was most convenient. The one legged hooker with dysentery appreciated it...all that shaking from the hoping up the stairs can produce some horrible results. She got a chicken sandwich with hot sauce and I got a cobb salad, a corn cob screwed up my partial plate. Remember kids...always brush at least once a week, I wish my 6 foster mothers told me that instead of what a loser I was. Anyway...the cob salad is gigantic. It is a great salad. Chicken, bacon, avocado, egg, you name it. All fresh, all well seasoned and all very good. Jasmine, if that was her real name, told me the sandwich was very hot, I wouldn't touch anything she touched but next time I tried it and I thought it was excellent. Big piece of chicken fried and covered with hot sauce. There could have been more sauce because the bun was a little dry. I ate several times down there and all the food was good, the waitress service was great and I never had a time where I wanted to start slicing up the booth with my steak knife. A good sign. The food was always good, but nothing they did was ever great other than the salad...wondering about the pizza...keep reading...
The bar upstairs is where things get fun. There are a few tv's, some high top tables and chairs and a great little lounge area. Good times on the weekend if you like the yuppie crowd. Rex doesn't. Perfect for discussing what is easily the best part of this place...the beer. Ah, the beer. They brew their own beer and it is good. Despite burning my tongue on a tailpipe...don't ask...I could taste all the hoppy goodness. They have a pale ale and go always up to a nice dark beer. Fruit beers, the blueberry one I tried, was good but not great, other than that they were damn good brews.
Rex will end this on a bad note, just like his 4 marriages, 8 colleges, 19 stops in state run facilities and the one time he met Kyle Petty. The deep dish pizza sucks! Not just by deep dish pizza standards...but by pizza standards. The crust is buttery, but after that it falls apart. It is not filled enough with toppings and cheese. It is a chinsy deep dish pizza. Most medium deep dishes are about 8lbs, sometimes more. This is like 4. They need to add more to it and make it a more substantial pie. I was disgusted. I threw mine over the balcony and screamed down from the bar "Al Capone should have killed all you sewer rats." Strangely they got upset by this. I am not sure I am allowed back. I am not sure I care.
Rex Marvin leads. You follow.
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