Given that you are taking the time to read this food post on this meat blog, I’m going to assume that you enjoy eating delicious meals with great company. We all have friends and family members with whom it is an absolute pleasure to share great meals and last night I had the special opportunity to do just that.

My friend Raffi and I bond greatly over very important things like food and football. Last night, he, his co-worker, and I went to a pizza restaurant in Chicago called Bricks. Bricks is located on a stretch on Lincoln Ave. with few other businesses and, as opposed to having a window-front, simply has an arched red awning over a staircase that leads down to the restaurant. Raffi and I are firm believers that you can judge a restaurant by its cover and even though the outside of Bricks is inconspicuous, it calls out at you and makes you think and/or say, “DAMN, this place is going to be GREAT!”

Inside, Bricks is a dimly lit catacomb with two rooms: the front, smaller room boasts a bar with a few tables while the back room is about 2-3 times the size and a bit more open. There is a general, but not overwhelming New Orleans theme to the restaurant and bar with paintings on the walls and light jazz music playing in the background. Its ambiance makes it a great place for a 3rd+ date or night out with a significant other but is probably too intimate for a 1st or 2nd.

The menu features a series of specialty pizzas as well as an option to build your own. With none of the specialties fulfilling my unvegan palate, I opted to go with a 10″ pepperoni and fennel sausage pizza. My two friends ordered un-unvegan specialty pizzas (they had meat but also gross, pizza-ruining vegetables) and took advantage of the half-off bottle of wine Tuesday special, splitting a bottle. I went with water instead of my usual Diet Coke (because I know you care deeply, I didn’t want to risk not being able to fall asleep, which had happened to me the night before from drinking a glass of Diet Coke too close to bedtime).

My friends’ pizzas arrived before mine. I let them stare longingly at their plates for about 1.5 seconds before demanding that they start before mine came because the only punishment more cruel and unusual than waiting for pizza to arrive after you order is having it right in front of you, but being paralyzed in waiting for that of your friend’s. From there, my pizza took what was probably five minutes (clearly they cared much more about delivering quality unvegan pizza instead of some quick veggies), but felt like hours to come as I stared despondently at their plates wishing I was eating pizza instead of waiting for it.

When my pizza finally did arrive, it took all my willpower to snap a picture of it for this post before digging in voraciously. I fulfilled my responsibility, though, and then tore into the pizza like I was Joey Chestnut. I usually eat my food pretty fast but am in a whole other stratosphere when it comes to pizza. When pizza is good (and pizza is always at least good but can come in varying degrees of good through transcendent), I don’t even mind burning the roof of my mouth. For the next two days, the blistery sensation that comes from this is less painful than it is a pleasant reminder of how great my pizza was.

Although my friends had a head start, I had fully caught up with them by the end of the second slice and lapped them as I finished my third. The pizza was very, very good. The ingredients were fresh and of high quality, its thin crust was of perfect texture, and it was cooked well-done which is a style that I prefer because of increased crunchiness. The sausage and pepperoni were especially succulent and I approved of the sauce : cheese : crust : toppings ratio which I won’t describe in numbers but will say that I know perfection in this realm when I eat it.

After I had finished four of the six slices, I had a decision to make. I absolutely love leftover pizza for breakfast and I was generally content. I was not, however, so full that I could not finish. Eating one slice and saving one would not be an option because one slice for breakfast would leave me unsatisfied and wanting more. I opted to channel my inner Louis CK (“The meal doesn’t stop when I’m full, the meal stops when I hate myself!”), I powered through the final two slices, leaving an empty plate that signaled domination for all (the waitress and my two friends) to see.

My friends ultimately finished their pizzas and I helped them out a little bit with the bottle of wine at the end. I do not have a fully developed opinion of whether Bricks is the best thin crust pizza in Chicago or is second best to Piece in Wicker Park, but the two are in a very close competition for the title. I imagine that at some point I will know for sure which is better (because my opinion is of course fact when it comes to pizza). We all left Bricks very satisfied with our mild food comas and will assuredly return one day.

-Another post from @RGSpiegel, often found wandering the vast expanse of his own blog.

When striving to live the high life, there is nothing better than a good, honest unvegan meal at a tasty price. In Chicago, and I imagine in all other major metropolitan areas, knowledge of the specials around town allows us to fulfill our unvegan needs without crippling the budget, especially on weeknights.

On Wednesdays, Rocks, a bar with very good burgers and locations in Lincoln Park and Lakeview, has a special of $5.00 burgers and $5.00 24 oz. beers. The latter is a distinction in which I differ a little bit from some other unvegans. When I am eating, my first choice for accompanying beverage is cola and my second choice is water. As I tend to eat really fast, I really don’t like consuming alcohol with my food.

Glancing at the burger menu, I was treated to a bevy of unvegan options. Eventually, I settled on the 2X4 burger which consists of two 4oz burger patties stuffed with pepperjack cheese and bacon. This was not all; the unvegan delight also is topped with jalapeno mayo, bacon bits, lettuce, tomatoes, and onions. I of course would not let the lettuce, tomatoes, and onions compromise such a wonderful unvegan creation and made sure to order my burger without those unwanted garnishes.

Further, seeing that the “Rocks Burger” came with a pretzel bun–and I have in the past argued for the superiority of pretzel buns over the norm–I asked the waiter if I could make the substitution and my request was happily obliged. The burger also came with a choice of side and I chose curly fries. I cannot recall a time in my life where I have ever been dissatisfied with my decision to order curly fries.

About a half hour later, the burger came and it looked DELIGHTFUL except for one glaring flaw. Pickles. These were not listed anywhere on the menu and came as an unwelcome surprise. If I ordered my burger without dastardly lettuce, tomatoes, and onions, why in the world would I want pickles? Thankfully, they were off to the side and did not infect any of my flavor with dreaded pickle juice. Crisis averted.

Overall, the burger was spectacular. The cacophony of ingredients complemented each other perfectly; bacon in between the patties and bacon bits on top were an especially welcome combination of unvegan bliss. The burger was spicy enough to be flavorful but not so spicy that it compromised the integrity of the meal. The ground beef was fresh and succulent and the pretzel bun was a cherry on top. Once again, curly fries failed to let me down.

If I was in the neighborhood on a normal night and in the mood for a burger (read: a normal night), Rocks would always be a viable option. The burgers are uniquely tasty enough to warrant their $10-11 price tags. With their Wednesday specials factored in, Rocks is a no-brainer and even a destination location. Just make sure to order without the pickles.

@RGSpiegel blogs at http://keepthefiresburning.wordpress.com

For my second meal in the Windy City, we went to a tapas place called Cafe Ba Ba Reeba. It’s a part of the Lettuce Entertain You group, which despite having a suspect name, runs some pretty swanky restaurants. Although this was a tapas place, it also had a special brunch menu that started at 11 when the place actually opened up. Arriving at opening time, we took our seats in the back, since the outdoor area couldn’t seat such a big group, then took a look at the menu.

In the menu I saw some beautiful-looking unvegan dishes, and since they were small plates, I felt comfortable about ordering a few things. The first thing that stood out to me was their Poached Egg, Bacon, Mac and Cheese ($5.95), which just looked like a cacophony of awesome food. On top of that (not literally), I ordered their Bacon-Wrapped Dates ($5.95) and a Goat Cheese Croquette ($1.50). The first to arrive was the mac and cheese, which was actually much bigger than I had expected. For $5.95, this would have filled me up alone.

Once I mixed all the prettiness together, I dug in and found that it was as good as it looked. The runniness from the egg added some nice flavoring to the cheese and the bacon was cooked to a delicious crisp. I didn’t think that a bacon mac and cheese could really be improved, but a the poached egg added a great touch to it.

After a bit of a wait, my bacon-wrapped dates arrived, looking just as delicious as my previous dish. This was definitely a dish for sharing, for a couple reasons. The first was because there were so many dates. The second was because somehow they managed to bring forth a vastly sweet richness from with the dates. Although the bacon was perfectly salty and crispy, it was not enough to tone down the sweetness of these dates. A lot of places stuff their dates with some sort of cheese before wrapping them in bacon, and now I know why. The cheese is there to provide some balance, and without that, this particular tapa was a bit too intense for me.

Lastly came my croquette. It was one simple, golf ball-sized ball of cheese and looked tasty. And tasty it was. Crispy, gooey, cheesy and more cheesy, this was the perfect pintxo to close out my brunch. In just a few bites, it was gone and I was one stuffed and happy unvegan.

I was pretty impressed by Cafe Ba Ba Reeba. They had quite a selection of unique tapas, all for a modest price (oh how I miss Midwestern prices). My only regret is that I didn’t have the stomach capacity to try even more, but I’m sure they would have been prepared deliciously. Hey, if the only problem with your meal is that your dates are too rich, you’ve done a pretty damn good job.

After a couple of days in Michigan, it was off to Chicago for a wedding, but I wasn’t going to let the wedding get in the way of my feeding. My sister, a Chicagoan for the past few years, recommended we head to La Creperie, so to La Creperie we went. Having been to La Creperie a few times in the past, I was pretty excited to grab some lunch there. The place has a great outdoor courtyard that is perfect for those Chicago summers. If only they could last for more than 3 months.

We took a stroll through the place and grabbed some seats at the courtyard. Then we took a look at the menu. La Creperie has a nice selection of savory and sweet crepes, but I was having a tough time deciding which direction to go in. It turned out I had plenty of time to think, because after taking our seats, the waitress seemed to disappear. During this time, my girlfriend came to the rescue and offered to split some sweet and savory with me. We decided to go with the Poulet au Curry crepe for the savory end, which is fancy French-speak for chicken breast, with curry cream and mango chutney. As for the sweetness, we went with a tried and true favorite, Nutella and banana.

There was another long break between ordering and getting our food, but when it came, it looked pretty delicious. I started into the savory first and found myself in the middle of a delicious clash of cultures. I hadn’t imagined France and India could work so well together, but the nicely seasoned curry and paper-thin crepe were a match made in…Chicago. Bet you thought I was gonna say heaven there.

And the desserty crepe made for a great follow-up to the curry chicken. Once again, the crepe was nice and thin, but the innards were quite different. In general I’m not much of a chocolate man and have a hard time understanding the infatuation some people have with it, but when it gets combined with hazelnut and becomes Nutella, it simply becomes awesome. And of course the best medium to eat the Nutella is a crepe. While these two alone go great together, it’s nice to throw it some fruit as well, like bananas. Combined, they make for one powerful crepe, and La Creperie did a great job of executing this.

Then, after eating, it was time to wait again. After chatting with a busboy and another waitress, we finally got our own to come back and take our money. It’s a shame the service was so bad, because the food was quite good. Fortunately for La Creperie, I had been there a few times before and felt like this was an isolated incident, but it was still bad enough to keep me from feeling fully content with experience.

I was craving shwarma. It was late and it was freezing, so my options were limited to food within walking distance. Once again, I found myself in Lincoln Park, Chicago, and needed to find food fast. As luck would have it, I was directed to Cousin’s, a Turkish restaurant.

Cousin’s has the general ambiance of a typical Turkish or Middle-Eastern restaurant, with pictures of Turkey, arts, urns and hookahs on the wall. As a bonus, it also has some floor seating, which I can only assume is the traditional way to eat in Turkey.

I arrived too late for floor seating, but settled down at a nice enough table. To my dismay, the menu lacked shwarma, but it tried to make up for it by offering a variety of meaty delights. The Chicken Doner looked particularly good, so I ordered it, making sure to ask the waiter if there were any vegetables mixed in with the meat. Fortunately, he told me the only vegetables were on the side.

While waiting, I noticed that Cousin’s had won an award for “Best Non-Vegetarian Restaurant for Vegetarians.” This worried me greatly. If their non-meat food was so good, could they possibly have good meat food?

As I pondered the possible dangers of where I was eating, my chicken doner came. It looked pretty, but how would it taste? I took a forkful of meat and rice, chewed it up and swallowed. Yum. It was good. Really good. It was perfectly seasoned and charbroiled. The tasty chicken juiced even dripped down to the bed of rice pilaf and enhanced it. I even began to forget about the lack of shwarma and the strange award the restaurant had won. I felt bad for the vegetables that remained untouched on the plate in the wake of my meat-eating frenzy, but they had made a worthy sacrifice for a real meal.

If you’re ever hankering for a good veggie-free Middle-Eastern meal in Chicago, Cousin’s is a great bet. If you happen to have vegetarian friends (not sure why you would), they can enjoy it just as much as a good, wholesome meat-eater.

On Saturday morning, I headed to Duffy’s Tavern and Grille in Lincoln Park, Chicago. Duffy’s is the big Michigan bar in Chicago, so on a Saturday football morning, it was loaded with recent graduates. My friends and I were unable to find a place to sit, but we were more than happy when we found a table top to stand next to, eat/drink on, and lean against. Since Duffy’s is more of a bar than a restaurant, I didn’t order anything to eat until taking down at least three beers (I always lose count at three).

With the beers in me, I scoured the menu for something greasy. Only a few items down from the top, I found a shining beacon of grease, sliders! I made sure to order them without the dreaded onions and for cheese I chose cheddar (try saying that ten times fast). As I waited for my food, I continued drinking and watching football. Eventually, my sliders arrived, but not as I had hoped. My eyes instantly shot to the glowing green flourescence of the pickle on my plate. A pickle is a seemingly harmless garnish, but for those who don’t like pickles, there are few things worse. First off, very few restaurants mention when a pickle will be accompanying food, so I can’t easily ask for it without the pickle. Secondly, the pickle, although easily removed from the plate, leaves a path of pickle juice. Sometimes the pickle juice remains in one place, but all-too-often, the juice splashes about the plate until it find a nice piece of bread, bun or other assorted absorbent product to soak into. Such was the case with the sliders. Although I was able to relegate the pickle to the outer rim of the plate, it was too late to save the buns.

Despite the pickle juice, I was hungry and bit into my slider. Inside the bun, I found a pretty decent cheeseburger, but it wasn’t the greasy slider I was expecting. Where I grew up, burgers were called sliders because they had the nasty little habit of sliding right through you. I have since found that many restaurants pass off mini-hamburgers as sliders. Mini-hamburgers are great, but please call them what they are. Despite my issues, I had to be realistic. I wasn’t at some fine dining establishment, but a bar that happened to have food. I finished up my food in no time and was content with the knowledge that the “sliders” had quenched my drunken hunger.

[mappress]