cocacolakisses: I’ve been living away from the nest for almost a year now, on my own in Chicago. Long Saturday nights without my mother to judge me when I come in at 3:30AM, or not at all, calls for a hearty meal and a big pot of coffee when I finally roll out of bed and wipe the drunk out of my eyes. I have no regrets or remorse for the way I have spent my evenings with my good friends Jack and Jose. Nor do I have enough shame to avoid a diner filled with children, mothers and people that society deems appropriate while in my clothes and makeup from the night before when that diner offers a steaming hot plate of eggs benedict. It is in my personal belief that restaurants should have two sections: a sound proof section for children at brunch before noon, and a section for those who have not had their coffee before noon. It would really make my life a whole lot easier, and that really is the ultimate goal isn’t it? To make Casey’s life easier? Anyway. I don’t think a week has gone by since moving here that I have not ventured out to some kind of brunch/breakfast spot. When I worked for Travelhost I wrote a piece on “Best Breakfast Places” of Chicago. I didn’t live in Chicago at the time so, fuck, how was I to research? Trust me, I’ve done the research this time. Orange (Lakeview, 3231 N. Clark St) Hands down, my favorite place to dine on a Sunday morning/early afternoon. Although I much prefer the Belmont/Lakeview location as opposed to Near West, I always get stuck with the same bearded scatterbrained waiter that forgets my damn frushi. But, ohh, the frushi. When it arrives at my table after the long awaited anticipation, my frustration with the absentminded server somehow vanishes and I am at peace with the world. A little “Ommmm” is buzzing through my head as I stuff frushi rolls through my lips. The coconut milk infused sushi rice is served with the fruit of the week to look like little California Maki Maki rolls over some sort of raspberry/strawberry/melon/delicious reduction sauce. The presentation itself is almost not worth digging in because it’s a little masterpiece, but who am I kidding? Hand me the chopsticks. A fan favorite meal at Orange has always been the Chai Tea French Toast, which is a chai tea-infused french toast STUFFED with ricotta cheese (um, hi everybody. my name’s casey, and -chokes back tears- i’m addicted to cheese. …hi casey) served in a bowl of chai tea latte reduction, topped with -shivers- honey and caramelized apples. I scarfed half of this down this morning (the other half is in the fridge waiting to be eaten for dinner) before the frushi came and I set it aside. Although delicious, I cannot get over the Caprese Benedict. This. Is. Delicious. English muffins topped with amazing oven-roasted tomatoes, thick buffalo mozzarella that oozes when you cut into it (dying over here), a perfectly poached egg and pesto hollandaise sauce. My mouth is watering, is yours? Also recommended: Orange-Rosemary French Toast. Yum. Can you tell I eat here a lot? Kitsch’n On Roscoe (Roscoe Village, 2005 W. Roscoe St.) While on an adventure for brunch one extremely hungover Sunday morning, the boy and I were on a mission to finally eat at Kitsch’n. The Kitsch’n nearest me is, of course, impossible to park by. So in turn we spent a half an hour driving around to find the Kitsch’n on Roscoe. Definitely worth it. What I love most about this place is the decoration! It is just so cute, and perfectly kitsch-y. Like stepping into a 1970’s sitcom or something. I kept looking around for Florence Henderson or David Cassidy. Even though it has that cheesiness, there’s still an added FUNK. Like Jimi Hendrix might stop in and order a short stack and a PBR. Children ate cereal out of vintage lunch boxes and we sat in the outdoor heated area in a retro tiki beer-garden. They first got my thumbs up when I ordered a full pot of coffee to stop my head from spinning and my steaming mug of hangover juice read Intelligentsia on the front. I know, I’m such a snob! But I don’t care, I will give anyone + points for my drug of choice. Back to food. Since only offered on Saturday and Sunday, I had no choice but to try the Bayou Crab Cake Benedict. I’m such a sucker for eggs benedict. The hollandaise was a spicy bayou served with habanero cornbread hash. Albeit, it was way too much food for me to finish, as the very nice waitress warned, but still delicious. The crab cake did over power the egg, but it was such a moist and non-fishy crab cake that I couldn’t hate on them for it. The hollandaise had such a nice fire to it, as well. Boy had the Borracho Breakfast Burrito with eggs, cheddar, pepper-jack, beans, salsa and veggies. It was delicious before I knocked it out of his hand and onto the ground on the way out. Oops. Overall, the food was awesome but I’d go back for the environment before the food. The Breakfast Club (West Loop, 1381 W. Hubbard St.) I am recommending this place because it is such a hidden little gem that no one would ever think to stop in for. It was originally converted into a restaurant from a small cottage and is, hands down, the cutest little place I’ve ever seen. Everything, and I mean everything, is pink. And I’m not a pink girl, I think I might own one piece of clothing that is salmon colored and that’s about as close to pink as I get for fear of being too girly, but this place was just too cute. If you shut your eyes real tight, walked inside and opened up, it was as if you had entered Pleasantville where they discover a color for the first time. Place settings, walls, paintings, tables, pink, pink, pink! On my 21st birthday, my friends took me here by my choice and as we stepped under the bright pink awning we knew we were not in Kansas anymore. I ordered the french toast, as they are one of the hundreds of Chicago diners I have entered that boasts, “best french toast in the city!” Alas, not so much. But still delicious. We had ordered pigs in a blanket, stuffed french toast, belgium waffles and some other kind of eggs between the six of us. Overall, we were all very pleased with our palates after the meal was through. And I wanted to pinch the waiter’s cheeks. Eleven City Diner (South Loop, 1112 South Wabash) You really can’t hate a Jewish Delicatessen with an in-house soda jerk that serves breakfast all day. A couple of my girlfriends dragged me hear on a morning a year or so ago when getting out of bed was the last thing on my mind. The promise of fresh Challa bread and a free side of guilt (no, really, that’s on the menu) was enough to pull me off of the couch and into a car to Eleven City. I will never regret that decision, because it was just so so good. The first time there I had the Coco’s Eggs with feta, spinach, tomato and scallion which was delectable. Next time, I switched to the Eleven City French Toast. I am tellin’ ya, no one does French Toast like the Jews at Eleven City. And that is totally P.C. Fresh baked Challah bread, strawberries, bananas, toasted coconut…oh, my. The toasted coconut just rounded off the entire meal. The owner leaves a note on every table insisting on you finishing your plate, so who was I to argue? There’s also a sweet old woman walking through the place with a jar of suckers for the children and little rose colored flower-shaped glasses talking to each table asking how they are. It’s just so personable and sincere. I love any place where I can sit down and have a chat with the person next to me. I think we’ve lost the ability to make friends with strangers in this generation and Eleven City holds on to that, even if just a little. I still have much more research to be done. I don’t know if I want to add Tempo or Ann Sather’s to this list. I mean, I like Ann Sather’s but it’s definitely not a “best I ever ate” meal, like Food Network claims it is. Tempo is just, eh, but very cute. I don’t know, I’ll get back to this. I have enough homework to be done! Leave me alone tumblr! It’s not like anyone reads this anyway! Farewell, chickpeas.

cocacolakisses:

I’ve been living away from the nest for almost a year now, on my own in Chicago. Long Saturday nights without my mother to judge me when I come in at 3:30AM, or not at all, calls for a hearty meal and a big pot of coffee when I finally roll out of bed and wipe the drunk out of my eyes. I have no regrets or remorse for the way I have spent my evenings with my good friends Jack and Jose. Nor do I have enough shame to avoid a diner filled with children, mothers and people that society deems appropriate while in my clothes and makeup from the night before when that diner offers a steaming hot plate of eggs benedict. It is in my personal belief that restaurants should have two sections: a sound proof section for children at brunch before noon, and a section for those who have not had their coffee before noon. It would really make my life a whole lot easier, and that really is the ultimate goal isn’t it? To make Casey’s life easier? Anyway. I don’t think a week has gone by since moving here that I have not ventured out to some kind of brunch/breakfast spot. When I worked for Travelhost I wrote a piece on “Best Breakfast Places” of Chicago. I didn’t live in Chicago at the time so, fuck, how was I to research? Trust me, I’ve done the research this time.

  1. Orange (Lakeview, 3231 N. Clark St) Hands down, my favorite place to dine on a Sunday morning/early afternoon. Although I much prefer the Belmont/Lakeview location as opposed to Near West, I always get stuck with the same bearded scatterbrained waiter that forgets my damn frushi. But, ohh, the frushi. When it arrives at my table after the long awaited anticipation, my frustration with the absentminded server somehow vanishes and I am at peace with the world. A little “Ommmm” is buzzing through my head as I stuff frushi rolls through my lips. The coconut milk infused sushi rice is served with the fruit of the week to look like little California Maki Maki rolls over some sort of raspberry/strawberry/melon/delicious reduction sauce. The presentation itself is almost not worth digging in because it’s a little masterpiece, but who am I kidding? Hand me the chopsticks. A fan favorite meal at Orange has always been the Chai Tea French Toast, which is a chai tea-infused french toast STUFFED with ricotta cheese (um, hi everybody. my name’s casey, and -chokes back tears- i’m addicted to cheese. …hi casey) served in a bowl of chai tea latte reduction, topped with -shivers- honey and caramelized apples. I scarfed half of this down this morning (the other half is in the fridge waiting to be eaten for dinner) before the frushi came and I set it aside. Although delicious, I cannot get over the Caprese Benedict. This. Is. Delicious. English muffins topped with amazing oven-roasted tomatoes, thick buffalo mozzarella that oozes when you cut into it (dying over here), a perfectly poached egg and pesto hollandaise sauce. My mouth is watering, is yours? Also recommended: Orange-Rosemary French Toast. Yum. Can you tell I eat here a lot?
  2. Kitsch’n On Roscoe (Roscoe Village, 2005 W. Roscoe St.) While on an adventure for brunch one extremely hungover Sunday morning, the boy and I were on a mission to finally eat at Kitsch’n. The Kitsch’n nearest me is, of course, impossible to park by. So in turn we spent a half an hour driving around to find the Kitsch’n on Roscoe. Definitely worth it. What I love most about this place is the decoration! It is just so cute, and perfectly kitsch-y. Like stepping into a 1970’s sitcom or something. I kept looking around for Florence Henderson or David Cassidy. Even though it has that cheesiness, there’s still an added FUNK. Like Jimi Hendrix might stop in and order a short stack and a PBR. Children ate cereal out of vintage lunch boxes and we sat in the outdoor heated area in a retro tiki beer-garden. They first got my thumbs up when I ordered a full pot of coffee to stop my head from spinning and my steaming mug of hangover juice read Intelligentsia on the front. I know, I’m such a snob! But I don’t care, I will give anyone + points for my drug of choice. Back to food. Since only offered on Saturday and Sunday, I had no choice but to try the Bayou Crab Cake Benedict. I’m such a sucker for eggs benedict. The hollandaise was a spicy bayou served with habanero cornbread hash. Albeit, it was way too much food for me to finish, as the very nice waitress warned, but still delicious. The crab cake did over power the egg, but it was such a moist and non-fishy crab cake that I couldn’t hate on them for it. The hollandaise had such a nice fire to it, as well. Boy had the Borracho Breakfast Burrito with eggs, cheddar, pepper-jack, beans, salsa and veggies. It was delicious before I knocked it out of his hand and onto the ground on the way out. Oops. Overall, the food was awesome but I’d go back for the environment before the food.
  3. The Breakfast Club (West Loop, 1381 W. Hubbard St.) I am recommending this place because it is such a hidden little gem that no one would ever think to stop in for. It was originally converted into a restaurant from a small cottage and is, hands down, the cutest little place I’ve ever seen. Everything, and I mean everything, is pink. And I’m not a pink girl, I think I might own one piece of clothing that is salmon colored and that’s about as close to pink as I get for fear of being too girly, but this place was just too cute. If you shut your eyes real tight, walked inside and opened up, it was as if you had entered Pleasantville where they discover a color for the first time. Place settings, walls, paintings, tables, pink, pink, pink! On my 21st birthday, my friends took me here by my choice and as we stepped under the bright pink awning we knew we were not in Kansas anymore. I ordered the french toast, as they are one of the hundreds of Chicago diners I have entered that boasts, “best french toast in the city!” Alas, not so much. But still delicious. We had ordered pigs in a blanket, stuffed french toast, belgium waffles and some other kind of eggs between the six of us. Overall, we were all very pleased with our palates after the meal was through. And I wanted to pinch the waiter’s cheeks.
  4. Eleven City Diner (South Loop, 1112 South Wabash) You really can’t hate a Jewish Delicatessen with an in-house soda jerk that serves breakfast all day. A couple of my girlfriends dragged me hear on a morning a year or so ago when getting out of bed was the last thing on my mind. The promise of fresh Challa bread and a free side of guilt (no, really, that’s on the menu) was enough to pull me off of the couch and into a car to Eleven City. I will never regret that decision, because it was just so so good. The first time there I had the Coco’s Eggs with feta, spinach, tomato and scallion which was delectable. Next time, I switched to the Eleven City French Toast. I am tellin’ ya, no one does French Toast like the Jews at Eleven City. And that is totally P.C. Fresh baked Challah bread, strawberries, bananas, toasted coconut…oh, my. The toasted coconut just rounded off the entire meal. The owner leaves a note on every table insisting on you finishing your plate, so who was I to argue? There’s also a sweet old woman walking through the place with a jar of suckers for the children and little rose colored flower-shaped glasses talking to each table asking how they are. It’s just so personable and sincere. I love any place where I can sit down and have a chat with the person next to me. I think we’ve lost the ability to make friends with strangers in this generation and Eleven City holds on to that, even if just a little.

I still have much more research to be done. I don’t know if I want to add Tempo or Ann Sather’s to this list. I mean, I like Ann Sather’s but it’s definitely not a “best I ever ate” meal, like Food Network claims it is. Tempo is just, eh, but very cute. I don’t know, I’ll get back to this. I have enough homework to be done! Leave me alone tumblr! It’s not like anyone reads this anyway! Farewell, chickpeas.

Photo tagged as: reblog - Reblog from cocacolakisses