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| - Let's get right to it. The smell of GRILLED ONIONS hits you before you even touch the front door. That is the definition of a Chicago dog/burger joint. That IS Maxwell Street. That IS Chicago.
The Food - I ordered the fire dog, a cheese slider, and fried zucchini.
The firedog didn't let me down in the authenticity department. Good meat, the correct and required condiments (neon relish, celery salt, sport peppers, tomato, mustard, onion. and seedy seed bun), cooked just right, and it smelled up the office when I opened it.
The slider was the ex-factor. I saw 'slider' and immediately thought White Castles. But I didn't want to compare it to that, so I slapped my head to get the thought outta there. Its a little burger with mustard, onions, and cheese. What makes it special is the way the meat's taste melds with the onions, mustard and especially the bun. Mine had a little too much mustard...and the bun wasn't a player on the field at all. In fact, the sub-par bunnage took away from the slider. BUT, I said I wouldn't compare it to Whitey One Bite's (White Castle's), so for what it is...ITS GOOOOOOD! You will find yourself wishing you bought 2 or 82 more of them.
The zucchini was just filler for the car ride back to the job. They were greasy and crunchy enough to get me excited at first...but their charm wore off after about 5 of them. They are little chips of zucchini fried nice and crispy. The taste of the batter just didn't do it for me, and the flavor of the zucchini wasn't quite on point. Doh, I REALLY hate saying anything negative about this place, because of....
The Atmosphere:
You know what kind of place you're in when you open the door. A joint. Pure joint.
Chicago newspaper clips, posters, political campaigns, pennants, whatever you can take from Chicago and stick on a wall. This is the first time I've walked into a Chicago joint and was actually MOVED. The place made me a little misty.
I miss Chicago.
This joint made me remember some of my happier times as a kid, when life didn't suck.
Its the kind of place you go and sit down with your team or with your buddies or with your kids or with your ma or with your worse enemy. The SMELL OF GRILLED ONIONS makes everything just fine with the world. Its the kind of place you go after you've just had some kind of fun, or even some kind of heartache. Its just the kind of place you can go whenever, for whatever reason. You feel like you belong here; like the world's bitter and evil hands can't reach you here. You feel...safe. Sorry to go off on that tangent, but its just something about the actual establishment itself...
Who cares about what the floors look like, or what's in the corners? Its a joint. Its got joint floors and joint corners and joint tables and chairs. Ain't nothing crawling. Nuff' said.
The Service:
After my nostalgic head-trip back to Chi-Town, I had to let the guy at the counter know they had done right by me. Not much conversation due to the uncanny line that seemingly popped up out of nowhere behind me. He told me that when I call in an order, "Aw, you ain't gotta wait in line, just come on up." That was almost the equivalent of him saying "I love ya', man!" Without the awkwardness. Oh, when I said I was picking up for 'Mike'...they all went "Mike's here! Got Mike here! Get Mike's order!!! Let's go!" Maybe its a routine, but it makes a guy feel like a million friggin bucks in a recession. Let's just say I walked out of there feeling 10 times better than I did before I walked in. And lastly, an elderly lady came in, and they all knew her name. The guy immediately asked if she wanted something to drink. I don't know...that just sat right with me.
The Value:
On. The. Money. I kid you not, you got 5 bucks, you can eat...and good. Get a couple sliders and fries for under 5 bucks. Or one of the dogs and fries. You're looking at a little more for an Italian Beef (which I intend to trek back there for), or something like that. Money is an issue for most people, but you won't hurt yourself having lunch here twice a week.
The Bottom Line:
Despite the lack-luster experience with my zucchini and bun, I must say this: Go here. Go here often. Smile when you get to the counter. Tell them they have a nice place, even though they already know it. Eat sliders. Eat dogs. Eat Frito Pie (and tell me how it was....while you stand a few feet away from me with that corn chip breath). Sit down here. Bring friends. Bring people you don't know that much. Bring people you don't like that much. Just see how things turn out. Your stomach and mouth will be happy. Your heart will be happier, but perhaps out of a few years. Write about it. Talk about it. Grab a few menus and stick 'em on the board at work.
This place is all right.
This place is all right.
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