Valentine by default

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There they were.

Under the sink.

A whole box of them minding their own business. But I wasn’t.

I had gone out with her and mutual friends the night before, not planning to have a slumber party. There was only one issue, that night before was February 13th. We had two beers at her place before going to the bar and having a few more. One thing led to another and before the clock struck one she was passed out on her couch as her dog scowled at me.

Not having much experience with comatose women, I wasn’t sure what to do. Was she faking it? Did she legitimately pass out from 4 beers in a night? Was her dog interested in taking things to the next level?

So, I did what anyone would. I texted a few friends asking for advice. The think tank was split between my options.

I could have left and gone about my blissfully lonely life. That would have meant leaving her in an unlocked apartment in the city.

Or, I could have stayed the night. I hadn’t packed my jammies or sleepover essentials like contact solution. This is the plight of the myopic. Plus, I’m notoriously bad at sleeping in other people’s homes.

Should I stay or should I go?

With her slumped in the middle of the couch, there wasn’t enough room for us both to pass out there. That left only one other place to sleep. Her bed. I can’t say I’ve slept in many women’s beds, but when I did, they weren’t in them.

I put a blanket over her and turned off the tv before retiring to her bedroom. The drinks started their assault on my digestive system. I may not like sleeping at people’s places, but my bowels sure fancy foreign toilets. At this point, I was sitting on her toilet questioning my life choices. I reached for toilet paper and discovered there were four squares left, one of which was coated in glue. This is when I reached over to the sink vanity in search of another roll. Had I left, I wouldn’t have seen what was under the sink.

On the outside of the large pink box was a picture and the text “First Response Pregnancy Test.” Realizing I couldn’t wipe my ass with those, I found a roll of TP.

My paranoid mind started to wander. Why would you need the economy box? The next 10 minutes were excruciating. What had I gotten myself into? How did I end up here?

Then, I looked down at the stick and saw that I was not pregnant.

With the ebullience of a man finding out he’s not the father on Maury, I got into her bed with her dog and fell asleep.

I woke up early the next morning and ran to the grocery. Selfishly, I was hungry and she didn’t have food. I grabbed a pack of bagels and two roses. One for her and one for her unborn. Returning to her apartment, she had woken up and changed into pajamas. I gave her the flowers, we had a bagel and I wished her a happy Valentine’s Day before I went on my way.

La Famiglia – 437 Rush Re-Opening

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Within 10 minutes of entering Phil Stefani’s 437 Rush’s re-opening party last night, I had a glass of vino and more food than I get at my grandma’s house. (I hope my grandma doesn’t read this.) The waiters came in unrelenting waves with trays of everything from bruschetta to tuna tartar. I had quickly amassed more plates than a circus performer, replete with my very own mini trident.

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For the Stefani family, food is their life. This restaurant goes beyond being a mom-and-pop upscale steakhouse to being part of their empire, which includes CastawaysChango LocoRiva Crab House and Tuscany (4 locations throughout Chicagoland).

Gina and Anthony Stefani grew up with a restaurateur for a father and learned the family business from an early age.

“My dad had me working the pasta stand at 11,” Anthony recalled.

“And I was washing dishes at 15,” Gina added.

Phil, the patriarch, makes it back to Italy five times a year to sample the authentic flavors of the motherland. Their family vacations might sound a bit different than yours and mine.

“Whenever we took trips, it was always focused on the food,” Gina said. Instead of waiting in line for the teacups at Disney, they sampled sauces and breads in Italy.

“But the food in Italy is amazing. You’ll never have anything better.” Gina continued.

The brother/sister duo were entrusted with updating 437 Rush from the old-school Italian steakhouse vibe.

“Anthony is more of a foodie than I am,” admitted Gina. “He knows all the trends for new ingredients.”

Gina stepped away from her gig in PR and event planning with XA to lead the project management of the redesign.

“This has been my baby for the past two months and tomorrow will be its birthday. I told people we should’ve had a film crew in here,” Gina said of the remodel resembling those featured on HGTV. It came down to the final hours of pulling the plastic off light fixtures the day before the party.

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The white tablecloths have been removed. With new floors, Edison lights (a requirement for any new bar), Chicago-themed art, dinnerware and flatware, the only thing that hasn’t changed is the focus on the diner. Their new menu retains classic staples like gnocchi, branzino and the montecarlo, a dish that was a non-negotiable for staying on the menu.

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“We wanted to still serve the dishes our regulars come here for, but also offer some smaller plates and new cocktails,” Gina said. The aim is to attract the lunch and happy hour crowds looking for a place to unwind.

Like the Stefanis, executive chef Christian Fantoni also comes from a family involved in food. His father was the cook for an Italian prince in northern Italy. Gina and Anthony worked with the chef to adapt the menu to include more small, shareable plates. Some of the apps offered last night included wild boar pate, melazane (a pesto with eggplant) and risotto with buffalo mozzarella.
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The redesign also includes a salumeria bar with sliced, melt-in-your-mouth prosciutto, mortadella and salamino nostrano. I fought the urge to request half a pound sliced thin to trump anyone else’s lunch at the office.

The next wave of waiters brought glasses of warm lobster bisque. He informed us that their process takes 12 hours to make their batch.

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If that weren’t enough to satiate your appetite, martini glasses of limoncello and cosmos were the next round to wash down the food. Then came the barrage of cakes: vanilla, strawberry, chocolate and banana.

After the din of the 150+ guests started to wind down, I found the Stefani family gathered, like most families, near the kitchen to enjoy what matters most: good food and la famiglia.

 

West Loop’s New Sausage Fest: TÊTE Charcuterie

VEGETARIANS BEWARE!

Chicago’s West Loop is overrun with meat. It is a sausage fest. They have meats you’ve never heard of like pig cheek and chicken hearts.

My experience with the French technique was limited to a reference by Schmidt in New Girl and sampling sliced offerings at my company’s holiday party. I got an invitation from Chicago Food Bloggers to check out TÊTE Charcuterie (1114 W Randolph St.) before they opened to the public on 7 April (as the French would write it). There are few things I love more than free food. My previous perception of charcuterie was that it is glorified lunch meat. Further research showed that the technique was originally a utilitarian method to preserving meats prior to refrigeration. It focuses on prepared meat products, like bacon, ham, sausage, terrinesgalantinespâtés, and confit. Plus mots que je ne connais pas.

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Charcuterie reminds me that I’m at the top of the food chain.

We were greeted and invited to head to the bar. The welcome/tasting would begin shortly. Looking around the warm digs, I spotted the wooden beams that seem to be a focal point of every new bar/restaurant and the old-school light bulbs with the visible filament. Seated at the bar, the bartender offered a drink menu. You can always pick out the fellow food bloggers because they have their phone or camera glued to one of their hands. I always find it comforting seeing that I’m not the only one who photographs my food.
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The chefs prepared a few dishes and let us shoot gratuitous close-ups before the dish went to its buyer.
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About 30 minutes after arriving the managing partner got up to welcome everyone and give a brief overview of the three-year journey to make this restaurant a reality. The idea was born out of travels in France for two of the chefs. He thanked everyone for their support and announced that some food would be coming out shortly and the bar was open. Those three words are arguably some of the best in any language. Thankfully, we were standing to the side and avoided the stampede to the bar manned by two bartenders. Their drink list had six custom cocktails.
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I started with the Two-Tree Days and my date opted for Baden-Baden. The bartenders were swamped with a deluge of drink orders. Once I got mine, I sipped the bourbon-based libation and nodded in approval. I sipped the Baden-Baden and puckered at its tartness. Watching the bartenders try to churn out the drink orders in the foreground was a contrasting juxtaposition of the chef in the background intensely focused on slicing a terrine.
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After the drinks were flowing, waiters came out with some samples of the meats. It was too loud to hear what each offering was. All of them were tasty; many being new combinations of meats and nuts. With each visit from our waiter, we tried placing his accent. He sound like he was from Europe, but which country? After the second visit, we asked for hints after he declined being from Russia or any of the Baltic countries. Turns out Carlos was from Mexico.
Toward the end of the night we made some new friends and shared dating stories. The highlight being one of the girls meeting a man at Benchmark in Old Town for a second date only to discover him fondling another woman. At 8PM. There was no mention of a third date.

We closed the night out by sobering up at City Winery after the festivities died down at Tete.