It’s March in Chicago. Clocks already turned ahead one hour. Days getting longer. Yesterday, Sunday, a friend and I went to Taylor Street for brunch. The sun was out. We filled ourselves on bruschette, polenta and beets. And tremendously delicious Sparrow Coffee. Afterwards we went to the lake to go for a walk. We sat on a bench to soak up some sun. Then we headed to Kopi Cafe in Andersonville for some more coffee. As we walked down Clark Street we were reminded of a place on Balmoral that we both loved - I think everyone who experienced it loved it - called the Dellwood Pickle. The Dellwood Pickle was a true neighborhood restaurant. A weekly spot. A spot of refuge and rejuvenation. A spot with shepherds pies and brown cows. Hearts broke when the Dellwood Pickle was no more.
We also reminisced about Great Lake Pizza, a place I had only been to maybe once or twice but was one of my initial best dining experiences in Chicago. I was working for a company downtown and we had a 3 day weekend. Friday night I picked up a bottle of wine from the nearby wine shop, In Fine Spirits. I went to the restaurant and waited in line. I placed my order and sat down at a communal table. I loved the concept of the communal table. Seated next to me were two lovely girls from the Netherlands. And across from us, a lovely couple. We all got to talking. I shared my wine. My salad was the first to arrive and so I shared it, too. As the rest of our food came to the table we all invited one another to take part. For several hours we sat there eating, drinking, talking and we had an absolute blast. The owner came over to us and she remarked that ‘this’ was what she had wanted when she opened her restaurant even though in the meantime it had become a bit of a clusterfuck because of rave reviews throughout the nation declaring it one of the best pizza joints in the country. I learned that across the table from me was Michael McAvena, who invited us all, the next day, to join him at the Publican for what turned out to be a remarkable brunch. He treated us with such gracious hospitality that we were lifted out of our individual realities. The girls from the Netherlands and I also went on to take pictures at North Avenue beach… of the sunset or stars or sunrise, it gets a little blurry, actually, I’m not sure exactly if that was the night of the pizza or the day of the Publican, either way it was one of those weekends that made me feel like I had had an actual vacation (a few years before the stay-cation became a thing, thank you economic collapse); like I had left Chicago; like I had ventured into the wild unknown.
